Showing posts with label application process. Show all posts
Showing posts with label application process. Show all posts

Visa

When I first thought about writing this post, this was how it was going to begin:

"Applying for my visa was so quick and easy, I thought, for sure, I must have done something wrong."

Little did I know.

The application itself was incredibly simple.  The hardest question to answer was how long my address has been my address.  This issue was mainly due to the fact that I have never resided in this house until this July, but it has served as my permanent address (my parents' residence) for several years.  Getting a straight answer out of my mother was fun ("I don't know.  Between two and eight years, I'd guess."); luckily, my father had a much better sense of time ("Four years and eight months -- is that close enough?").

I signed up for my biometrics appointment in Atlanta, had to change it once, and went through the process without issue. I got together what I thought was the necessary paperwork -- the visa application, the stamped and scanned biometrics appointment sheet, the sponsor letter from Fulbright, the passport-sized photograph, the visa letter from Queen's.  I read through the requirements over and over.

When confirmation that my visa application is being processed comes via email, I learn that it was a requirement to send my passport along with the application.  I did not realize, at the time, that the visa is actually attached to a page of the passport.  I was thinking they just needed to prove that I have a valid passport, and I presented it for examination several times during the biometrics appointment.  My passport number and issuing and expiry dates were on the application in many places.

To say that I was freaking out would be an understatement. Thankfully, I had a new good friend who was willing to listen and convince me everything would be fine and someone who allowed me to use a Skype account to call Ms. Elizabeth Hizer, the coordinator for the US side of the Fulbright.  She gave me the name of a contact at the Chicago British Consulate, and my passport was sent off by registered overnight delivery.  It arrived safely the next morning, and my fears were abated.

This is the point where my second post on the visa application was going to end.  You have no doubt noticed, it does not.

My passport arrived in Chicago on Thursday, August 16.  On Friday, August 17, I received a voicemail on my phone informing me that my passport and transcript acknowledging the awarding of my BA degree were needed for further processing of my application, and these things were needed in four days.  I'm hoping that my passport had just not made it into the proper hands at that point because I have nothing else to offer them on that front.  As far as my transcript, I cannot fathom why they would need this piece of paperwork, nor am I aware how I would know they needed it, in order to have sent it in the first place.  

I rushed to the post office Saturday morning and sent off my transcript by registered overnight delivery.  Given the four day requirement, I wasn't going to risk it arriving in five.  I have now spent $35 more than anticipated on the mailing of my visa application.  Regardless, I immediately felt relieved.

The sense of relief lasted until tonight (Sunday night).  In the voicemail I received, I was informed that I would be getting an email, which would basically repeat what was said in the voicemail.  I received that email tonight, and it was mostly what was promised.  However, it also included a code to be written on the outside of the envelope when I sent the additional requirements.  There is a little warning after the code that warns my application may be denied if the code is not present.  Considering I did not receive the email in time, I don't know how I could be expected to give them everything they wanted in the time required.  Hopefully, what I've done is sufficient.

I'm not feeling overly confident at the moment.

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Belfast or Bust!

So, what is this about, eh?


In September, 2008, I began a US Fulbright Grant application to the United Kingdom.  The odds of getting a US-UK Fulbright are not good -- there were nearly 500 applicants last year for 12 grants --, but my mantra was, "You can't get it if you don't apply."  So I went for it.

I completed the application in late October.  I felt a great sense of relief in knowing that the initial process was over and out of my hands.  I was able to breathe until late January. 

I was supposed to hear on or soon after January 30 if I had made it through the first round.  I was told by a friend/informant on January 29 that I had indeed made it. However, just days before, my advisor for the application process emailed me, concerned that my undergraduate email address was returning messages to her.  I soon learned that my undergraduate university eliminated all alumni accounts, and I no longer could access it.  Frantically, I emailed the only contact I had at IIE (Institute of International Education) for help.  Nothing.  Over two weeks later, I finally got in touch with him, and he gave me another person's information and told me to write her.  Within 10 minutes, I had a reply, including the official word that I was, indeed, a semi-finalist.

Nine days later, as I was ignoring most of life to finish my thesis review draft, I received a phone call informing me that I had made the short list.  She organized a phone interview for five days later.  This is the point at which I truly began to freak out.

I tried preparing talking points for the interview.  I tried anticipating what I would be asked.  I tried practicing speaking slowly, which is a big issue for me, not just when I am nervous.  I checked that my phone had reception for over an hour before our scheduled time.  I even parked myself into my bedroom window where I have the most reliable reception, just in case the sky suddenly turned grey and most cell phone signals were thwarted.

The call came in four minutes late.  No big deal, right? Those were the longest four minutes of my life.  When the call did come, I could only hear my own voice.  The call was terminated.  It took six minutes for them to call back.  I honestly thought I was going to cry.  Technological problems were going to keep me from getting my grant?  In those six minutes, I actually thought that I would fly to London if the phone situation didn't get any better.

But, it did.  And the interview went well.  They didn't ask a single question I anticipated, and I really had to think on my feet.  What is one thing that is happening in the UK right now that excites you?  I am a historian as much as a literary critic -- do I even know anything that is going on now? Think ahead a few minutes.  What will be the one think you wish you had told us about you and your research that you will forget to share?  If future-me has forgotten, how will present-me already know?  Don't you understand the future-perfect tense?  All in all, I managed to portray some semblance of brilliance, as the call was ended with: "In about four minutes, I think you will be jumping up and down when you realize just how marvelously you have performed in this interview."  I'll take it.

The interviewers left me with a book recommendation and the comforting notion that they would be making a decision within a few days.  I should look out for notification of acceptance.

A month later, I'm more nervous than ever.  Each day that passes is one more that I am not a Fulbrighter.  Maybe they told the recipients and are waiting to tell alternates and those who aren't offered anything.  Even though I got such good feedback from my interview, maybe I was the first call and everyone else wowed them far more.  Maybe they have my email address wrong again?  Maybe they already offered me a grant and rescinded it because I didn't accept quickly enough?  Maybe an email went into my spam folder and deleted itself?

On April 14, I arrive back home after housesitting for and visiting with my parents.  I had a big stack of mail waiting in my box; I couldn't tell you what all was there, but it was. IT. A big envelope with the return address listed as Institute for International Education.  And it was good.

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