Post by wheelspinner on Mar 25, 2009 17:49:47 GMT -5
Another installment ...
October, 2001 - November, 2001
In my quest to Get A Visa, there has been a Major Development. I have been verbally advised by my agent that he has been verbally advised by his USA counterpart that she has been verbally advised by the INS that I have Got A Visa. I was advised more than a week ago that they are being couriered to me via Express mail. I wait in Breathless Anticipation for them to arrive.
The three week express Visa process that commenced in late August is now approaching completion. I was not aware that the three weeks were being measured in Geological Time. Now that that is cleared up, everything is running like sundial-work.
I have received a phone call from New York advising me that I may save Lots of Money and Get A Credit Rating if I lease a car. The car, unfortunately, must be American but you can't have everything. I pointed out that Jaguar are owned by an American company, but the lessor felt that this wasn't quite what he meant.
My son and I have therefore researched the American Car Market. The American Car Market is divided into three parts (like Gaul):
Researching market segment 2, we felt that we needed to decide between compacts, sedans and SUVs. We eliminated compacts, as we want nothing to do with cars named after women's cosmetics. As IT dweebs we agreed that an SUV must be superior to a sedan because it is an acronym. We are still working out what it is an acronym for.
We decided that the GM Yukon XL 2500 SUV seemed a likely prospect. This is mainly because it has more letters and numbers after its name than the Lincoln Navigator, and is hence superior. It also seems to come with an engine, which will be a blessing in car-mad California.
We have also considered, as a backup vehicle, acquiring a Chevrolet PT Cruiser. This car is also superior due to its longer name and also because it reminds one of McHale's Navy. My son points out that it also Looks Cool, and has sufficient room in the rear seat for him to store his legs and shoulders. We have seen these vehicles on Australian roads and are aware that they also spread good cheer amongst mankind - whenever an Australian sees one they burst out laughing.
Anyone who knows anything at all about the American Car Market is very welcome to explain it to us, and to forewarn us of Impending Doom. We are minded to acquire a 2001 or 2002 model SUV, but it must be Made In America by a subsidiary of GM, Chrysler or (shudder) Ford.
A big day arrived last Saturday when the Auction flag was unfurled at chez Greg. It was a perfect day for an auction, sparkling sunshine and a top of around 26 degrees. It was also Derby day, so of course anyone with money to spend looked out of the window, thought "What a beautiful day" and headed for the racetrack.
You must understand that it is vital in an auction for the owner of the house to have nothing to do with it. We were banished from about noon onwards to make sure we didn't have any Chance Encounters with people who might wish to buy the place from us.
It is auctioneers' wisdom that the property should be made more homely by baking something prior to the auction. To this end I cooked up some of my special Orange Polenta Biscuits. I'm certain that the odour of burnt soggy biscuits, blended with the aroma of unmade coffee, must have added considerably to the value of our house.
We left the biscuits out, both to spread the aroma and to bribe our bidders, but it didn't work. Not one was eaten when we got back. (I still have several dozen left - does anyone want one?).
We returned at 14:25 in time for a 14:30 auction to the sight of Strangers crawling all over our house. It makes one feel uneasy, knowing that at any moment one of them may try to open that door a little too far or step on that plank in the decking or even get a real look at what is under my youngest son's bed. Fortunately no such Calamities occurred.
Promptly at 14:30 Santa rang his bell. Or at least that's what it sounded like. I cannot say how the auction went as we were barred from hearing it, in order not to breach Security. After about ten minutes, the house was Passed In at about $5k under our reserve. Our Auctioneer advised us that this was very good in the current market.
Then commenced the negotiation game known as "The Prisoners' Dilemma". This was invented by auctioneers, passed onto the KGB and thence to police forces everywhere, where it is used very effectively to elicit needless confessions from co-suspects.
The technique is simple. Under no circumstances should the real parties to the negotiation meet, or even pass in the corridor. Only the middleman is in a position to know what the parties are being told. Our torturer came in and told us that he had told them that we had told him that our reserve was $20k higher than what we had actually told him. For all we know he was down their in our garage telling them "Look these guys have to sell, they're moving to the USA, you can probably get this house if you cough another $100 or so." As the torturer moves back and forth the lies begin to correlate and we ended up with an agreed sum, lo and behold, of our actual reserve price.
Once that was Agreed To the torturer proceeded to draft the confessions (sorry contracts) and had the purchasers sign them. They were then banished and only then were we allowed to sign.
So at the end of all that, I had sold my home of seven years to a couple of people I have barely even seen, for the bare minimum price I was willing to accept. Congratulations all round!
It struck me then that I still haven't officially Got A Visa. Since I know longer own my home, and don't have a new one as yet, I may well be considered homeless. OTOH, we never have to clean this house again, which will be a relief after 6 weeks of cleaning the F4ing place every night in case someone should want to look at it.
On the following day, I repaired unto Caulfield Racecourse to celebrate the nuptials of my eldest nephew. (He's the sporting type). My nephew looked very fetching in a black suit with white shirt, black cravat and a grey pearl cravat pin. Donna wore a dress.
At the nuptials, I was besieged by Concerned Relatives asking to know if I had Got A Visa yet. I advised them that I had not, and that I did not know when I would get one. I was repeatedly congratulated for being able to attain my bare minimum price for my house in a boom real estate market. Attention then rapidly turned to the fate of its contents. My relatives are forming a somewhat disorderly queue to take on agistment of some of the more significant items. Considerable concern has been expressed for the well-being and security of my widescreen Loewe television, DVD player and 5.1 digital surround sound system. Some interest has also been expressed in the fate of my whitegoods. Sadly the Pentium 133 on which I type this missive seems to have been excluded from the familial concern, being Under Powered and not being able to run Windows XP or Cool Games. (It was so embarrassed at this that it went into a major sulk and refused to run MSN for several hours).
I have today received a telephone call from my USA agent verbally advising me that she has physical possession of my visa documents. Quite what use they are to her I'm not sure, but there is every chance they may be sent to me sometime.
I am now engaged in an engrossing game of Chicken with my employer. If I receive my visa, I will need to resign almost immediately. However my bonus is due to be advised this week and paid into my account the following week. Can Greg secure his just reward and prevent the evil Catberts in Payroll from clawing it back, while still maximising his chances of transferring to California some time within the next 90 days to avoid homelessness? Stay tuned.
October, 2001 - November, 2001
In my quest to Get A Visa, there has been a Major Development. I have been verbally advised by my agent that he has been verbally advised by his USA counterpart that she has been verbally advised by the INS that I have Got A Visa. I was advised more than a week ago that they are being couriered to me via Express mail. I wait in Breathless Anticipation for them to arrive.
The three week express Visa process that commenced in late August is now approaching completion. I was not aware that the three weeks were being measured in Geological Time. Now that that is cleared up, everything is running like sundial-work.
I have received a phone call from New York advising me that I may save Lots of Money and Get A Credit Rating if I lease a car. The car, unfortunately, must be American but you can't have everything. I pointed out that Jaguar are owned by an American company, but the lessor felt that this wasn't quite what he meant.
My son and I have therefore researched the American Car Market. The American Car Market is divided into three parts (like Gaul):
- cars my son will never permit me to own
- cars that I have never heard of
- cars that I cannot afford.
Researching market segment 2, we felt that we needed to decide between compacts, sedans and SUVs. We eliminated compacts, as we want nothing to do with cars named after women's cosmetics. As IT dweebs we agreed that an SUV must be superior to a sedan because it is an acronym. We are still working out what it is an acronym for.
We decided that the GM Yukon XL 2500 SUV seemed a likely prospect. This is mainly because it has more letters and numbers after its name than the Lincoln Navigator, and is hence superior. It also seems to come with an engine, which will be a blessing in car-mad California.
We have also considered, as a backup vehicle, acquiring a Chevrolet PT Cruiser. This car is also superior due to its longer name and also because it reminds one of McHale's Navy. My son points out that it also Looks Cool, and has sufficient room in the rear seat for him to store his legs and shoulders. We have seen these vehicles on Australian roads and are aware that they also spread good cheer amongst mankind - whenever an Australian sees one they burst out laughing.
Anyone who knows anything at all about the American Car Market is very welcome to explain it to us, and to forewarn us of Impending Doom. We are minded to acquire a 2001 or 2002 model SUV, but it must be Made In America by a subsidiary of GM, Chrysler or (shudder) Ford.
A big day arrived last Saturday when the Auction flag was unfurled at chez Greg. It was a perfect day for an auction, sparkling sunshine and a top of around 26 degrees. It was also Derby day, so of course anyone with money to spend looked out of the window, thought "What a beautiful day" and headed for the racetrack.
You must understand that it is vital in an auction for the owner of the house to have nothing to do with it. We were banished from about noon onwards to make sure we didn't have any Chance Encounters with people who might wish to buy the place from us.
It is auctioneers' wisdom that the property should be made more homely by baking something prior to the auction. To this end I cooked up some of my special Orange Polenta Biscuits. I'm certain that the odour of burnt soggy biscuits, blended with the aroma of unmade coffee, must have added considerably to the value of our house.
We left the biscuits out, both to spread the aroma and to bribe our bidders, but it didn't work. Not one was eaten when we got back. (I still have several dozen left - does anyone want one?).
We returned at 14:25 in time for a 14:30 auction to the sight of Strangers crawling all over our house. It makes one feel uneasy, knowing that at any moment one of them may try to open that door a little too far or step on that plank in the decking or even get a real look at what is under my youngest son's bed. Fortunately no such Calamities occurred.
Promptly at 14:30 Santa rang his bell. Or at least that's what it sounded like. I cannot say how the auction went as we were barred from hearing it, in order not to breach Security. After about ten minutes, the house was Passed In at about $5k under our reserve. Our Auctioneer advised us that this was very good in the current market.
Then commenced the negotiation game known as "The Prisoners' Dilemma". This was invented by auctioneers, passed onto the KGB and thence to police forces everywhere, where it is used very effectively to elicit needless confessions from co-suspects.
The technique is simple. Under no circumstances should the real parties to the negotiation meet, or even pass in the corridor. Only the middleman is in a position to know what the parties are being told. Our torturer came in and told us that he had told them that we had told him that our reserve was $20k higher than what we had actually told him. For all we know he was down their in our garage telling them "Look these guys have to sell, they're moving to the USA, you can probably get this house if you cough another $100 or so." As the torturer moves back and forth the lies begin to correlate and we ended up with an agreed sum, lo and behold, of our actual reserve price.
Once that was Agreed To the torturer proceeded to draft the confessions (sorry contracts) and had the purchasers sign them. They were then banished and only then were we allowed to sign.
So at the end of all that, I had sold my home of seven years to a couple of people I have barely even seen, for the bare minimum price I was willing to accept. Congratulations all round!
It struck me then that I still haven't officially Got A Visa. Since I know longer own my home, and don't have a new one as yet, I may well be considered homeless. OTOH, we never have to clean this house again, which will be a relief after 6 weeks of cleaning the F4ing place every night in case someone should want to look at it.
On the following day, I repaired unto Caulfield Racecourse to celebrate the nuptials of my eldest nephew. (He's the sporting type). My nephew looked very fetching in a black suit with white shirt, black cravat and a grey pearl cravat pin. Donna wore a dress.
At the nuptials, I was besieged by Concerned Relatives asking to know if I had Got A Visa yet. I advised them that I had not, and that I did not know when I would get one. I was repeatedly congratulated for being able to attain my bare minimum price for my house in a boom real estate market. Attention then rapidly turned to the fate of its contents. My relatives are forming a somewhat disorderly queue to take on agistment of some of the more significant items. Considerable concern has been expressed for the well-being and security of my widescreen Loewe television, DVD player and 5.1 digital surround sound system. Some interest has also been expressed in the fate of my whitegoods. Sadly the Pentium 133 on which I type this missive seems to have been excluded from the familial concern, being Under Powered and not being able to run Windows XP or Cool Games. (It was so embarrassed at this that it went into a major sulk and refused to run MSN for several hours).
I have today received a telephone call from my USA agent verbally advising me that she has physical possession of my visa documents. Quite what use they are to her I'm not sure, but there is every chance they may be sent to me sometime.
I am now engaged in an engrossing game of Chicken with my employer. If I receive my visa, I will need to resign almost immediately. However my bonus is due to be advised this week and paid into my account the following week. Can Greg secure his just reward and prevent the evil Catberts in Payroll from clawing it back, while still maximising his chances of transferring to California some time within the next 90 days to avoid homelessness? Stay tuned.
