The First Cut

Getting rejected is never fun. Getting rejected in a foreign land even less so.

Maybe I was just feeling overly confident after getting my visa at the first attempt and being let into the US without a strip search - where I come from, such feats make it to the papers, right below "athlete almost makes it to first round of obscure unknown Olympic sport". Maybe it was that hogwash 'secret' book I'd just read which claims that if you really want something the universe hears you and makes sure you get it. Because that fateful day when I walked into HSBC to open an account, I expected to walk out with a credit card. With a giant spending limit. First of all, what the hell is a person supposed to do here with a credit card and second, any activities I had in mind (read shopping, eating and shopping) absolutely could not be carried out without one. So imagine my dismay when the nice man behind the desk politely told me that I'd been rejected. Reason: no credit history. Err...I just got here 3 days ago, how am I supposed to build up a credit history if you don't give me a credit card?

So after rejecting me and rendering 80% of my list-of-things-to-do-in-America undoable, I was cheerily told to "have a good one!" and escorted right out of the bank. Ironically, the door to the bank was right next to the bus stop and the universe could not have done a better job of putting me in my place.

That was the first one. What followed after was like a rejection sitcom. Every week I would find myself in a not-so-funny situation where someone would turn me down (and secretly giggle about it, I'm sure!)

Gap Shopping Card? Rejected. Reason - no credit history.

State Driving License Test? Not allowed to take. Reason - not enough credit cards or shopping cards, thus not enough points required to take it.

ZipCar Membership? Not eligible. Reason - absence of state driving license.

You see?? You see how crap feeds on itself and gives you more crap to deal with? And do you see how no American movie ever prepares you for rejections of this nature? I mean, the worst thing that ever happened to Carrie was when her shoes got stolen at a party. And at the end of the episode, she even got that lady to buy her a new pair. Sigh. This was not what I signed up for.

Once upon a time

I had a dream.

It had a swanky apartment with giant windows and warm mood lighting. It had exclusive little stores where everything was one of a kind and the owner knew my name. In my dream the food was always organic and the wine always unpronounceable. Egyptian rugs kissed my feet and cashmere throws kept me warm. Weekend getaways alternated between cosy mountain cottages and soothing riverside spas. 

It was a vivid dream and a happy one. A dream worth pursuing, worth dumping your home and your friends and family for, worth even shelling out large sums of money in the name of a higher education for. It was a dream that was guaranteed to become a reality in a year. My husband would be making money and I would be spending it. Yin and Yang, co-existing in perfect harmony. 

Well, things haven't quite turned out as I expected them to. Yes, I'm in America. Yes, my dear husband is well on his way to getting that dream MBA ticket that'll ensure us happiness for now and ever more. But there's a twist. See, we were fortunate enough to have landed here just as this country was going through a bit of a "slow-down". (Read the papers, they're full of details of what this means for everyone else.) What it means for me is that my dream has been a tad altered. It's everything I thought it would be, just in black and white.