All over but the...

... celebrating!  :D   As of today I have booked our tickets out of France and back to Canada to visit with everyone over the summer!

I took this in the Paris metro months ago, but saved it for this very post!

To say I am happy to leave France is 100% accurate.   While I have learned many things here, it has been largely an exercise in frustration (sometimes on a daily basis, sometimes on a moment-to-moment basis).  Anyone who has been reading this blog probably noticed that it became mostly posts about things gone wrong, things frustrating and depressing, and not about the many wonders in Paris (of which there are many).   When you live in one of the worlds most celebrated and iconic cities, and all you care to write home about is how fucking frustrating everything is, that's probably a good sign that you aren't fitting in and need to re-evaluate the situation.

I tried my damnedest to ignore all the stereotypes and horror stories people told me about life here in France before I came.  I wanted to come with a clean slate and as little preconceptions about the French, and their way of life as possible, in hopes of doing better.   I wanted to prove wrong all the stereotypes and overcome the many obstacles that thwarted those who came before me.

I am writing to you today to tell you that I have failed.

Failure isn't something I deal well with.  In part because I am stubborn, and in part because I do my damnedest to avoid it in all cases, so I don't have a lot of experience dealing with it.  Most of the time I succeed, I fix problems and make things happen.   Occasionally though I fail, and it always hits me hard (those who've known me a long time will likely point out those failures for me, mostly relating to my uselessness with relationships over the years, and one catastrophic personal meltdown that stands out among other minor freak-outs).

In this case though,  I don't have that same sense of "Man, what what I thinking?!" or "Crap, I really fucked it up, I should have done X instead of Y" or "SHIT SHIT SHIT!  This HAS to work!!  For the love of all that's holy, how do I make it work!!!".   I don't have that insane need to fix this and make it work: Some things are best left broken.  

Maybe this is a sign of maturity, maybe this is a sign of age.   Maybe there is no difference between the two.

Perhaps though, this simply stems from the fact that I don't feel that I screwed up or that I was in the wrong and could have done better,  and that leaving IS fixing it.   From someone who has a "lockjaw" single-minded tenacity for making things work, at times to the point of insanity (again, ask some of my former romantic interests ;) ), this is quite a statement to be making.  Walking away is the one thing I am practically incapable of doing.   I have long since realized about myself that I have no "flight" mechanism, for better or worse.

Yet here we are, happily abandoning Paris.   I don't have a single regret, and I am happy to move on.   Too many problems, too few solutions.   The road ahead certainly no less fraught with potential pitfalls, but already things are working better after a few short weeks than they did in two long years.

I look forward to our new life in Sweden.  I look forward to people not being complete dicks about speaking English with me.   I look forward to being able to solve most of my problems all on my own instead of depending on others to help me with the most essential issues.  I look forward to a fantastic new job.   

I look forward to a great many things, but most of all I look forward to a new adventure!

The 'Hail Mary'

Today has been one hell of a day.  Full of incredible highs and lows, and a bucket of adrenaline to top it off.

As you're likely aware, I've been keenly interested in landing myself a job at a studio in Sweden.  So much so I uncharacteristically lost sight of the horizon.  By that I mean I was dead-set on it, and so determined that I failed to take into account the fact I might not actually be offered the job.

In my mind I was convinced I had the job.  I had a series of strong interviews, I had the chance to visit the studio in person and got on very well with everyone there.  I wandered the streets of Gothenburg with my wife and was sold on life in Sweden.

I never braced myself for the possibility of rejection.  Failure was never a possibility in my mind.

This morning, just that arrived in my email box.  The recruiter I had been speaking with sent me a polite rejection, and attempted to explain why I was not selected for the position at this late stage in the process.

At first, I was simply crushed.   I didn't even read the letter in it's entirety, as like any good rejection letter, the intent of the message is made very clear right on the top line.  I just sat at my desk and let the full force of the blow sink in.

After a short while, having collected myself, I replied to the recruiter in an rather unconventional way.  I rejected this decision.

Don't get me wrong, I didn't freak out and lose my mind.  I  had given myself enough time to calm down and return to a rational state.   In true dedication I simply explained that I did not agree with their conclusions, pointed out why they did not make sense to me and reasserted my suitability in a concise manner, and  reinforced my enthusiasm for the position, summarizing that "I am ready to, willing and very interested to work with your studio.  I know without a doubt that I am the right person for this job, and that Sweden is the right place for me."

I fired this email back to the recruiter, and put it out of my mind.  Though, before I sent it, I had the good sense to CC the studio head on the email in hopes of sidestepping the standard rejection from the recruiter, who had his orders to turn me away.

In all honesty I really did not expect to ever hear back from them again.   This isn't the sort of thing you do when you receive a rejection notice.  This definitely flies in the face of the "job hunt etiquette" for my industry.   Normally, IF you respond at all to a rejection letter, you are simply supposed to graciously accept their decision and move on, as they likely have many other candidates speak with and positions to fill.

I went to work and started doing the depressing work of assessing the situation.  Mentally collecting in my head any other job possibilities I was interested in as I (which came out to zero).  Doing the math on exactly how little money we could spend each month and still survive, and how long that meant our money would last (which wasn't too long, relatively speaking).

Later in the day, while climbing the stairs to get a coke from the break room, the thought that they might respond crept into my head, and I had to harshly chastise myself for such wishful thinking and get serious about the situation.

I returned to my desk, coke in hand and found an email from the recruiter.  I was shocked, but again told myself to expect nothing good as I moved to open it.

Inside, a single line of text from the recruiter said "Thank you for your mail. It is well written and caused a good and healthy discussion over here. I would like to talk to you asap on the phone. Can you call me?"  along with his personal number.

Now, I'm not stupid.  There is no need to have a further call if the goal is to simply re-iterate their lack of interest.  They may be polite and considerate at that studio,  but that's going well beyond any sense of professional courtesy.

I do not have a phone at my desk, and my Paris cell phone no longer works, so I raced over to my office manager and asked her to find me a meeting room with a phone... NOW!

Sprinting up two flights of stairs to an open meeting room on the top floor I punched in the number the recruiter gave me into the phone, and tried to steady my breathing and my nerves while listening to the line ring.

He went on to explain to me that their decision to reject me was the hardest 'No' they have ever had to give at the studio.  On paper I had plenty of skills they wanted, everyone I had spoken with at the studio liked me and my personality was a strong match with the other staff. There was a lot of positives on my side.   Yet there was a doubt that my skills, those specific to the genre I would be working in, would not be sufficient, despite my wide range of skills in other areas of design.

I listened intently, waiting desperately for a "... but" as his explanation unfurled before me, and to my good fortune one came.   The recruiter then told me that my email response to them sparked a strong conversation among the powers that be, and that at the end of the day they had a guy that was a great fit and was really passionate about his desire to join the team, so why shouldn't they hire me?

The studio head made the call, said "do it, hire him. If there is a skills/experience gap, we can address that with additional staff".   The recruiter made me the offer, accepting my proposed salary, and we set a date to start in early august.

I was beyond elated,  I was ecstatic!  Those who know me know I am not prone to outbursts or generally freaking out, but right there, alone in that meeting room I silently (there was a teleconference in the next room) jumped around and fist-pumped the air for a few minutes.

After taking a moment to compose myself I proceeded back to my desk and settled in to attempt to finish a large assignment I was working on before I was done permanently the following day.   Yet, before I could even get settled, my bosses asked to see me, and we stepped into a nearby office.

They proceeded to chew me out for an email I had sent out that morning in an effort to close out all my business with the company: a personal appraisal of my time on my last project.  They assaulted me by saying it was a terrible thing to do, I was wrong to do it, and demanded to know why I had sent it out.  They continued by telling me that this sort of thing will make it very hard to ever work for their company again.

They sat there with smug looks on their faces as they dangled my "career with their company" over my head in attempt to get me to jump and plead, apologize profusely and tell them how sorry I was.   They assumed, wrongly, that I had any interest in ever working for them again. 

At this point, I am still jacked up on adrenaline from the phone call only moments before, and it takes every ounce of restraint I have not to do something I will regret, not to vent 2 years worth of frustration, rage and the bullshit I endured in this job on them, right then and there.

I told them, as graciously as politely as possible, that I did not agree with their position, and that while it was not my goal or intention to cause problems, I frankly did not care.  I had reported what I had seen, both good and bad, and I have no problem standing behind it.

The meeting wrapped up shortly after this with them looked genuinely frustrated and I walked out smiling.  I returned to my desk, packed up the last few things I had not yet taken home, marked down my last day tomorrow as a holiday, shook a few hands and wished a select few well and then walked out.

It was total badass stuff, and it was immensely satisfying.

I start in Sweden in early August, VISA deities willing.  :)

Swedish Exchange

Keycard to our room at the Clarion Post Hotel.  Turns out we had a great stay!

As many are now aware, I had the pleasure of spending the last weekend in Sweden.  It was as much a pleasure as it was a business trip, despite it being one hundred percent business oriented. 

Both Aja and I spent the weekend, and a couple weekdays in Gothenburg, exploring the city and seeing what life is like in the Swedish city on the sea.  As it turns out, life in Sweden is pretty damned good.   I am of the opinion that Sweden be renamed to Sweetden.

We spent our time largely in the company of a wonderful new friend, and native Swede, who went out of her way to wander around with us, answer a million questions and generally be an awesome person to hang out with.

Among the highlights of the trip;

• Brunch at a cozy little place.  I tried pickled herring and was surprised to find it to my liking.
• A home cooked meal and boardgames (again, by our fantastic new friend).
• A wonderfully clean, calm and enjoyable city on the ocean that felt very much like Vancouver in a way.
• Tons of people who, unlike the French, aren't vigorously angry to speak English (quite the opposite in almost every case actually).

Aside from our more touristic pursuits, I also spent a day with a perspective employer, as they were footing the bill to have us there in the first place.  The interviews were roundly positive and I feel that my odds of landing the job are good.

I was told to expect a decision this week, but as with many things in life, plans have changed.  I am to have yet another interview with the studio head (making this one the 4th I have had with him alone).  The earliest this new interview can be scheduled is for Monday, so more waiting is the order of the day.

While this delay wasn't the answer I was hoping for, it is still a positive sign.   If things during the onsite interviews been received poorly, HR would have simply notified me that I had not been chosen for the role.  Booking another meeting with the studio head is expensive time, so it means that there is still interest from the top down.

Additionally, I also an interview onsite with another studio in Germany on Wednesday.   I was hoping to have an offer from Sweden before now, and simply decline to attend the interviews in Germany, but that is not going to be an option.   It would be both wonderful and slightly bitter to get a job offer from Sweden in Monday, then have to fly to Germany the next day and attend a day full of interviews, as my flights are non-refundable.

Still, as problems go, that is one I would gladly welcome.

Employment Panic

Over the past few weeks I have been in sort of an employment panic, as I have decided not to renew my contract here in Paris.   This isn't something I took lightly, but as many of the previous posts I have made here served to highlight, living here hasn't been the dream we had hoped it would be.

Granted, the city of Paris has been very interesting to explore and we have had some great moments here.  Yet in the end the city is not for us.  Paris is the sort of city I would recommend that anyone visit for a couple of weeks, or perhaps even a long summer break, but never live in.   Once you break free of the touristy traps it is mainly just a big city, with all the big city blues that come along with it.  Add to that the language barrier and it's just not fun.

I love living in big cities, but my ability to freely explore is constantly hampered by language, taking away much of the bonuses that living in a big city offers.   When you take into account all of our VISA/Government problems we seem perennially plague with, it is clear that this position, this way of life is untenable.

So, we are leaving.

The tricky part is that we don't know where, or even when, as at this very moment I do not have another job lined up.  This is where the "panic" part of the title comes into play.

Living here has been incredibly expensive, and the job paid much less than I had hoped, much less than I was accustomed to being paid in Canada (even when you take into account the stronger Euro currency).   We haven't been able to save a hell of a lot, so once my last paycheque rolls in, we will be on a very short clock.

My company has been attempting to find me a new position internally, but like with all things French, the progress is shockingly slow.  It's nice to have the heavy hitters in the company express a desire to keep me, and want to have my talents somewhere that will work for everyone,  but it isn't looking positive that I will be offered a position in the company in time.

Since we have a ticking clock in the form of a bank account to concern ourselves with, I have applied to nearly any Design related opportunity out there, and I am in a position where I must take the first decent offer that comes along, even if it isn't terribly exciting.   Not an appealing prospect, but that is the realities we face. 

That said, I have withheld writing this post up until now as I would have had to end there.  That would be a pretty depressing end to a post.  Now while that would be keeping with the running theme of many of my posts about France,  I am not without my good news.

At around the same time we were deciding to leave Paris, another company approached me about joining there ranks in Sweden.   It was a very unique and exciting opportunity they were proposing and I could only marvel at the serendipity of their headhunter's timing.

Since that day I have been focusing a large amount of my thoughts and efforts on this position, to positive effect.  I have had a succession of really great interviews with yesterday marking the third in that series.  It also marked a turning point, as after that interview concluded, the offer came to have me visit the studio in person.  I was also very happy to learn that they quite happy to have Aja accompany me on this trip so that she can see the city for herself.

Today is a Tuesday, and they are arranging to fly us over on Saturday and stay until the following Tuesday.  This will give us plenty of time to see the city on our own and for me to meet with the studio in person, hopefully to finalize the deal.

Given that I have roughly 3 weeks left until unemployment,  this is all really looking to work out perfectly.   I was getting fairly concerned about what may come if I was unable to lineup a new spot, and what would become of us, illegal and broke in France.

I guess this weekend we will have a few Swedish meatballs and see if this new job/country, really is the answer to so many of our woes.  

The Spanish Diversion

Having returned from NC to Paris, we decided to take advantage of a few saved up vacation days and catch a cheap flight somewhere. As it so happens a friend of mine is living in the village of Monda and so we went to visit.

Here are the things I learned on this trip:

1) The rain in Spain falls in the hills and plains alike. It does not discriminate.

Sadly, we had only packed for much warmer weather, assuming like most tourists, that Spain is hot even in the spring. This meant we spent a good deal of time avoiding the cold, rainy weather by taking refuge inside our friends villa.

Then again, when this is the view from the living room, it's still a pretty nice way to spend a few days:




2) Burger King tastes just the same, even in Spain.

I haven't had burger king for a couple years, but my hotel near the airport on the last night has limited culinary choices. Seems everything else nearby is closed for Semana Santa. Which leads me to...


3) Semana Santa is cool (and totally not racist)!

Not having really followed the who "religion" thing while I've been alive, I've missed out on a lot of the cooler nuances. I got the bulk of it: crucifixion, parting a sea, an ark chock-a-block with animals, a whole lot of killing... you know, lots of good stories. However, somewhere along the way I missed this headgear:

Where I'm from, that choice in hat means something entirely different, so I was surprised to see it at first. Yes, I know that it was lifted from the religious intent and not the other way around, but still my gut reaction to see a hat like that is to expect some shit to go down momentarily.


4) I still sunburn stupid easy.

:(

Apathy or Incompetence?

So as you may be aware, I live in Paris, but I'm not a French citizen. This means that I need to have a work VISA to be here and collect a paycheque.

From the beginning it has been a debacle getting our VISA's arranged, and this is largely due to either a shocking lack of aptitude or interest on the part of the HR team at my company.

At first it took 8 months to get our initial VISA's, a process that was only supposed to take 2 months. On top of the delay it was discovered that no paperwork was submitted by my company on behalf of my wife, and we were left to scramble on our own to get her a VISA.

Nearly two years after accepting this job the debacle continues, unabated by the ravages of time. I am in the process of renewing my VISA for the first time. the renewal process started in October (even though I'd ask to start it in august, given the delay of the first application). In the mean time I was sent on mission to North Carolina, where I would spend the next 7 months.

I would have to fly back to France in December under the guise of completing the renewal process, only to discover that my HR contact didn't know what was going on, and the meeting we'd been flown across an ocean for was merely to pick up the application for the renewal process.

Months pass and my mission in North Carolina ends. We return to Paris on Monday morning, 7 am, severely jet lagged. I am expected to attend an appointment Tuesday morning, 10am. I am told by my HR contact that this meeting is "in the same place we went last time", referring to the last trip over in December that my HR contact actually attended with me. Here are the wonderful details of that specific disaster.

It is also revealed to me that I will need to go out and purchase, on my own, a "Timbre Fiscal" or a tax stamp as I am told. This can be purchased from any Tabac (cigarette shop), and if you speak French it is probably very easy to do so.

This is the thought of my HR contact, as she doesn't bother to purchase this for me to ensure there is no problems. Instead, it is left up to the guy who speak effectively no french to buy this stamp. Without it I cannot renew my VISA, but it isn't seen as a problem to leave it up to me.

I am unable to buy a stamp.

I return home after failing to find a stamp or renew my VISA. Before even making it back to Paris I expressed my disappointment that my HR contact was not going to attend this meeting, and made it clear that if there was any problems I would likely not be able to solve them myself.

This has no effect on anyone, and I inevitably fail at the task. As it turns out I wasn't even at the right building. When returning to the office the next day to talk about what happened, my HR contact was shocked to learn that I went to the same place I went last time with her, despite her telling me the day before that is exactly what I was supposed to do.

Now, as a result, I have been sent home from work for legal reasons. It is felt as a risk to have me in the office working now that my VISA status is unclear. All of this could have been easily avoided if my HR contact had done one thing: her fucking job. I expect this will be somehow framed up on me as my incompetence, but should that come to pass I have no problem being a real prick about making it clear what has happened to bring things to this state of affairs.

So now I am home, Wednesday morning. I have been back in Paris little more than 48 hours and I want to shoot myself. As much as I love living here, this city is the right sort of adventure for me, the VISA process and my company's HR department makes it an entirely vulgar affair.

I have only been back a few days and I want to leave.

French (Re)Connection

This week marks my final week living abroad, abroad. This is to say that I have been living in the US for the past 7 months, but will now return back to Paris.

I have deeply enjoyed my time here in North Carolina, it's been refreshing and easy to live here. Obviously the lack of a language barrier goes a long way, but the people I have been working with have been a top shelf sort of professional.

Returning to Paris will be a mixed blessing. We return to renew our VISA's, but this renewal process comes three months after our initial VISAs have expired. This means that returning home could be troublesome.

We will be arriving at the French border control with clearly expired French VISA's in our passports, and very little in the way of compelling paperwork to justify our entering the country. Anyone reading this that is already familiar with border control agencies, regardless of nationality, are likely already cringing at this state of affairs as these agencies aren't known for their easy-going approach to their work.

Now granted I hold a Canadian passport, which tends to get me a lot of wiggle room throughout Europe as we are largely considered on the face of things the lovable tourists. I quite often get waved through checks in a number of different countries with little more than a glance at the ID page.

However, should a diligent control officer be manning the post, one who looks at all the details, My wife and I will likely be invited into a quiet little room in the back of the airport to answer lots and lots of questions. Questions that I rely on my companies HR/Legal team to back me up on.

With luck this won't happen. With luck we won't be rejected entry at the border and life in France will pick up right were we left off last summer. And if you know me well, you know that I am a lucky sort of person.

Yet I can't help but be mildly disturbed at what is pretty much a blind run at the border, all thanks to the lack luster support I have been given for all my VISA dealings from my company.

In the end though, it will be great to be back in Paris, at least for a while. I will get more physical activity again, more walking and a wonderful Parisian spring to enjoy.

In my last 7 months in the southern US I have gained a staggering 30 pounds (soundly negating the steady weight loss I was experiencing in Paris).

I look forward to walking to and from work each day, and eating a whole lot less fast food. As much as I have enjoyed my ability to call up and order a pizza and coke again, it's clear I have abused this ability. ;)