7.27.2008
Two by Two Snippet
a fido commercial played out in front of me one evening in castro. i was waiting to see an apartment when a pale bulldog went lumbering by, almost grimacing at the hill he was encountering. then his stalwart owner with a blonde, shaved head slowly followed. a few moments passed and suddenly another brawnier, dark bulldog passed me from behind. i almost wasn’t surprised, but definitely delighted, when i looked over my shoulder to see the caboose - a stockier guy with a dark, shaved head.
Pause Snippet
hurry hurry. checking addresses, maps, and watch. uncertain. rather lost. i paused. i thought to look up. up to the green palms stretching to the crisp, blue tablecloth of sky.
7.22.2008
Multiple Identities
Just now I was online, buying Radiohead tickets for their show in Golden Gate Park and I got in a rather frazzling ecommerce loop because Ticketmaster recognized my email address. They knew I had an existing Canadian profile, which was not cosy with my new American address. I quickly aborted and went to the other online ticket seller. Also, on the weekend, when I attempted to download a free app to my iPhone, iTunes recognized my account as Canadian. My nationality immediately disqualified me from getting the free app. Why? Go figure.
I find it very interesting that American and Canadian ecommerce systems seem to talk or at least be on an acquaintance level with one another, yet credit unions (even by the same name) with oodles more money don’t even acknowledge each other. You see, my new plight is to get an American credit card. (That alone deserves its own post but I’ll instead try to paraphrase all of my wrath here.) I guess in this circumstance money doesn’t talk. Systems do. And ecommerce ones are shiny and new and ready to communicate, whereas credit systems are dinosaurs that grunt.
So that leaves me in the eyes of the American bank or credit institution in about the same credit-card-desirability category as--my guess--a high-school student with a job at MacDonald’s. Truly incredible.
Shernaz, who also just relocated here, and I are on a credit-card quest. We trade stories and tactics daily. Nothing has worked yet. That may not be so frustrating if there was some consistency to the whole system, but I have yet to find any.
Some highlights:
Wells Fargo was great at getting me set up with a chequing (I refuse to spell it the American way.) account, even at first when I didn’t have a Social Security Number. I still think Wells has exceptional service. However, they will not issue a regular credit card to a non-American resident. At least that was what I was told when my credit application returned to my banker. Instead, if I want a $2000 limit on my card, I have to give them $2000 for safekeeping. No surprise, every bank is willing to give me that type of card – a secure card.
Also at Wells Fargo, they put my Canadian Social Identity Number on the card application. My Social Security Number is only a week old and has seen no action. The banker was willing to acknowledge my excellent Canadian credit rating. However, I think the underwriter didn’t care to look. Why else did I get denied? I also was told at Wells that I if use my debit/cheque card, I will build some credit.
The woman at Bank of America (BOA) said I won’t build credit with a debit/cheque card. She wouldn’t put my SIN on the application because she said the underwriters won’t look at it. Instead, she basically explained that it’s a crap shoot. Some people on work visas get a non-secure card with a lower limit, like $500, some don’t. I actually came to like her snooty, no-nonsense attitude. She had my chequing account, my debit card, and my credit application done in about 10 minutes. In two days, I should know my luck.
The ole cellphone deposit was another crap shoot. A couple of friends who were new to the States last year had to put a $500 deposit down at AT&T in order to get phones. When I went to get my iPhone the guy told me the same amount, but then for some reason he couldn’t explain, when he put me in the system, it only asked for a $150 deposit. My lucky day.
Before today’s stop at BOA, I went to HSBC, which is touted as an international bank. Well, they’re only international if you’ve actually banked with them in Canada. I hadn’t so they couldn’t offer me any more help than BOA.
I figure that if my BOA application doesn’t work, I’ll just rely on my debit/cheque cards and my Canadian credit card for a few months. After that period of time, I hear that you usually get offered a card with a $300 (LOL) limit. I had a better limit when I was in university! I guess I need to get ready for the slow-and-steady approach to building American credit.
I find it very interesting that American and Canadian ecommerce systems seem to talk or at least be on an acquaintance level with one another, yet credit unions (even by the same name) with oodles more money don’t even acknowledge each other. You see, my new plight is to get an American credit card. (That alone deserves its own post but I’ll instead try to paraphrase all of my wrath here.) I guess in this circumstance money doesn’t talk. Systems do. And ecommerce ones are shiny and new and ready to communicate, whereas credit systems are dinosaurs that grunt.
So that leaves me in the eyes of the American bank or credit institution in about the same credit-card-desirability category as--my guess--a high-school student with a job at MacDonald’s. Truly incredible.
Shernaz, who also just relocated here, and I are on a credit-card quest. We trade stories and tactics daily. Nothing has worked yet. That may not be so frustrating if there was some consistency to the whole system, but I have yet to find any.
Some highlights:
Wells Fargo was great at getting me set up with a chequing (I refuse to spell it the American way.) account, even at first when I didn’t have a Social Security Number. I still think Wells has exceptional service. However, they will not issue a regular credit card to a non-American resident. At least that was what I was told when my credit application returned to my banker. Instead, if I want a $2000 limit on my card, I have to give them $2000 for safekeeping. No surprise, every bank is willing to give me that type of card – a secure card.
Also at Wells Fargo, they put my Canadian Social Identity Number on the card application. My Social Security Number is only a week old and has seen no action. The banker was willing to acknowledge my excellent Canadian credit rating. However, I think the underwriter didn’t care to look. Why else did I get denied? I also was told at Wells that I if use my debit/cheque card, I will build some credit.
The woman at Bank of America (BOA) said I won’t build credit with a debit/cheque card. She wouldn’t put my SIN on the application because she said the underwriters won’t look at it. Instead, she basically explained that it’s a crap shoot. Some people on work visas get a non-secure card with a lower limit, like $500, some don’t. I actually came to like her snooty, no-nonsense attitude. She had my chequing account, my debit card, and my credit application done in about 10 minutes. In two days, I should know my luck.
The ole cellphone deposit was another crap shoot. A couple of friends who were new to the States last year had to put a $500 deposit down at AT&T in order to get phones. When I went to get my iPhone the guy told me the same amount, but then for some reason he couldn’t explain, when he put me in the system, it only asked for a $150 deposit. My lucky day.
Before today’s stop at BOA, I went to HSBC, which is touted as an international bank. Well, they’re only international if you’ve actually banked with them in Canada. I hadn’t so they couldn’t offer me any more help than BOA.
I figure that if my BOA application doesn’t work, I’ll just rely on my debit/cheque cards and my Canadian credit card for a few months. After that period of time, I hear that you usually get offered a card with a $300 (LOL) limit. I had a better limit when I was in university! I guess I need to get ready for the slow-and-steady approach to building American credit.
7.13.2008
The First Two West-Coast Weeks
In some ways I can’t believe it’s been only two weeks since I relocated to San Fran. It feels like longer because of all of the running around I’ve had to do it. And that’s meant I’ve been bad at returning emails. No time! So here are a few updates.
Work
The office is the antithesis of the Toronto one. Somehow we got an open area amongst a sea of cubicles. And though, thankfully, there are many windows, florescent lights still hum above. Ugh. I feel like we’re kids in detention hall. I miss the Toronto space – the warehouse full of pictures and toys and people, all to the soundtrack of Mike’s or Cas’s DJing.
Apartment Hunting
Sigh. I’m not sure I can adequately describe how frustrating it is. It's so insane here and it's getting quite competitive because of the bad housing market. One night I looked at a shoebox place with six other people! I’ve looked at eight places for $2400+ a month and only one of them, in my mind, was perfect. (My application is in and now I wait and wait.) All places have quirks. For example, if they have laundry—in the building!, not the unit—then something else really lacks, like closet space…or character.
I’ve been going with an employment letter and a Canadian credit report in hand because I don’t have a Social Security Number (SSN). More on that. Now I see apartment searching as a cat-and-mouse game. It’s not like Toronto where you usually know on the spot or sometimes a day later if you have the place. So I feel like I should be still looking, even with an application in. It’s like the lottery. But I’ve decided to take a break until I hear about the great spot. I’m really tired.
Good news. I've finally settled on a neighbourhood: Pacific Heights. It's yuppie and kind of like Toronto’s Yorkville, but it's the place with the hills and fire escapes and sometimes views of the ocean. I can walk to its edge if I want. I want quintessential San Fran if I'm going to be here.
Money, Money, Money
I couldn’t even start looking for an apartment during my first week because of my banking woes. Banks here are at least five years behind Canadian ones. Everything depends on cheques. Email transfers?! Light-years ahead of the American systems.
Of course my bank forgot to tell me a very key thing when I called to say I was moving; I should have signed a form in order to initiate transfers via telephone or fax. They wouldn't wire money from my Canadian account. I pointed out there was a 4.5-hour flight between me and the original form. Then I had to deal with forms and more forms and running around and faxing ((Who faxes anything anymore?!)) and Fed Exing.
It took a week of craziness before I got money wired into my brand-spanking-new American account so I could write a cheque for an apartment. I can't get paid yet because I don't have a Social Security Number. That takes 20 business days after entering the country!!! Immigration doesn’t even enter legal aliens (Yes, that's me! Makes me smirk when I have to check it off.) for 10 business days. Huh?!
Oh yeah, the office I went to, to apply for my SSN was…I’ll say, entertaining. The guy behind me was boasting to his friend how he just got out of jail the day before. There were cracked-out trannies. I had dutifully left my mother’s name off of the form since the written instructions had said only to list it, if I was under 18. However, the attendant informed me that I was in “…the United States of America and in the United States of America I need to confirm my mother’s name!” I didn’t know whether to sing the national anthem with her or run back across the border, away from the attitude.
Fun
Yes, I’ll stop whining and admit that I have been having some. I’m lucky to know great people here. I’ve been to BBQs and out for dinner and to yoga class and to the MOMA.
A Reminder
I remind myself that the beginning often has shitty times. I recall that from living in Australia long ago. However, this time I have more running around to do. The good thing is that I'm so busy apartment-hunting and stressing-out that I haven't really had time to be homesick. Small blessings! And when I pause and actually look at the city rather than plow through it, I'm so taken with how pretty and diverse it is. I expect (I hope.) things will even out.
Work
The office is the antithesis of the Toronto one. Somehow we got an open area amongst a sea of cubicles. And though, thankfully, there are many windows, florescent lights still hum above. Ugh. I feel like we’re kids in detention hall. I miss the Toronto space – the warehouse full of pictures and toys and people, all to the soundtrack of Mike’s or Cas’s DJing.
Apartment Hunting
Sigh. I’m not sure I can adequately describe how frustrating it is. It's so insane here and it's getting quite competitive because of the bad housing market. One night I looked at a shoebox place with six other people! I’ve looked at eight places for $2400+ a month and only one of them, in my mind, was perfect. (My application is in and now I wait and wait.) All places have quirks. For example, if they have laundry—in the building!, not the unit—then something else really lacks, like closet space…or character.
I’ve been going with an employment letter and a Canadian credit report in hand because I don’t have a Social Security Number (SSN). More on that. Now I see apartment searching as a cat-and-mouse game. It’s not like Toronto where you usually know on the spot or sometimes a day later if you have the place. So I feel like I should be still looking, even with an application in. It’s like the lottery. But I’ve decided to take a break until I hear about the great spot. I’m really tired.
Good news. I've finally settled on a neighbourhood: Pacific Heights. It's yuppie and kind of like Toronto’s Yorkville, but it's the place with the hills and fire escapes and sometimes views of the ocean. I can walk to its edge if I want. I want quintessential San Fran if I'm going to be here.
Money, Money, Money
I couldn’t even start looking for an apartment during my first week because of my banking woes. Banks here are at least five years behind Canadian ones. Everything depends on cheques. Email transfers?! Light-years ahead of the American systems.
Of course my bank forgot to tell me a very key thing when I called to say I was moving; I should have signed a form in order to initiate transfers via telephone or fax. They wouldn't wire money from my Canadian account. I pointed out there was a 4.5-hour flight between me and the original form. Then I had to deal with forms and more forms and running around and faxing ((Who faxes anything anymore?!)) and Fed Exing.
It took a week of craziness before I got money wired into my brand-spanking-new American account so I could write a cheque for an apartment. I can't get paid yet because I don't have a Social Security Number. That takes 20 business days after entering the country!!! Immigration doesn’t even enter legal aliens (Yes, that's me! Makes me smirk when I have to check it off.) for 10 business days. Huh?!
Oh yeah, the office I went to, to apply for my SSN was…I’ll say, entertaining. The guy behind me was boasting to his friend how he just got out of jail the day before. There were cracked-out trannies. I had dutifully left my mother’s name off of the form since the written instructions had said only to list it, if I was under 18. However, the attendant informed me that I was in “…the United States of America and in the United States of America I need to confirm my mother’s name!” I didn’t know whether to sing the national anthem with her or run back across the border, away from the attitude.
Fun
Yes, I’ll stop whining and admit that I have been having some. I’m lucky to know great people here. I’ve been to BBQs and out for dinner and to yoga class and to the MOMA.
A Reminder
I remind myself that the beginning often has shitty times. I recall that from living in Australia long ago. However, this time I have more running around to do. The good thing is that I'm so busy apartment-hunting and stressing-out that I haven't really had time to be homesick. Small blessings! And when I pause and actually look at the city rather than plow through it, I'm so taken with how pretty and diverse it is. I expect (I hope.) things will even out.
7.01.2008
Intuition Snippet
near-and-dears missed. continental-move regret. i was pretty low when i checked my email tonight. one from wonderfully intuitive vanessa asked how i was doing. then another said she had called my t.o. cell to check on me, only to find it already disconnected. (she's NOT a phone person.) somethings can't be broken or uprooted. and though i'm still alone, physically. really, i'm not.
Morning
Unspoken, shared understanding is rare, especially between strangers. But I was lucky to have it the other morning. I stepped onto the subway with both sunglasses and iPod on. Yes, I wanted to be left alone. After a few seconds, I recognized a guy whom I used to work with. We know each other but not very well; we’ve had many small talks. He also had an iPod on and was reading a newspaper. We saw each other at the same time and shared a big smile and a wave. C’est tout. Perfect. I didn’t want my quiet morning time trespassed upon, nor did he.
That reminded me of another morning quite a few years ago when I saw a good work friend on the streetcar. There even was an empty seat beside him. And though I liked him immensely, I couldn’t help but feel disappointed because I really wanted to keep reading my amazing book. Plus I was still waking up. He looked tired too and he was plugged into his music. So I sat down beside him and made a suggestion: you keep listening to your music and I’ll keep reading. He gave me a big grin. We shared comfortable silence, getting ready for the day’s onslaught. No surprise that when we had to spend weeks at a client’s in another city, we met before the rest of the team to get our Starbucks together…very quietly.
That reminded me of another morning quite a few years ago when I saw a good work friend on the streetcar. There even was an empty seat beside him. And though I liked him immensely, I couldn’t help but feel disappointed because I really wanted to keep reading my amazing book. Plus I was still waking up. He looked tired too and he was plugged into his music. So I sat down beside him and made a suggestion: you keep listening to your music and I’ll keep reading. He gave me a big grin. We shared comfortable silence, getting ready for the day’s onslaught. No surprise that when we had to spend weeks at a client’s in another city, we met before the rest of the team to get our Starbucks together…very quietly.
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