Ruminations on Role Reassignment and Russian Visa Requests

Another 10 days closer to leaving.  It's starting to feel a little more real now.  Not a lot, but a little.

The staff meeting was definitely strange.  It all ended up being less dramatic than what I felt, of course, probably because for everyone else it's just the next order of business - although Karl did suddenly have more attention when he started talking about it!  For me it's more like the end of an era.  Karl announced it almost in one breath:  "As most of you will know by now the lovely Laura is leaving us, and the person who will be taking on her role is Hugh".  And then it was done.

So three or four days later, on Monday, Hugh was in the office with me, learning how to do the pay and the roster and how to find his way around the computer.  He's also been helping me to have individual meetings with all the staff, just to find out where they're all up to and to make sure they know how we feel about their work.  That's been a learning curve for everybody involved - me included.  Which is a good thing.  I've been supervising Hugh while helping him to run the meetings, and doing it without undermining him could be interesting if he happens to say something that I don't think is appropriate.  The staff need to see him as my equal right from now, so I don't want to correct him in front of them if I can avoid it.  I've also suddenly found myself working in the shops four or five days a week.  It's been a while since I worked in the shops, let alone had to be at work at 730am, so that was a bit of a shock to the system all round. 

When I received my insurance information on Saturday (thanks Dad!) I finally had everything I needed to apply for my Russian Tourist Visa.  They are tricky visas to obtain.  You have to show where you are going to be each day, where you're going to stay each night, and who's going to be hosting you while you're in the country, and you have to show that you have a confirmed medical insurance policy which is valid in Russia.  I paid the tour company to organise the pieces of paper I needed from inside Russia, because otherwise it would've meant chasing the Russian host tour company and hotels myself, which I was not keen on. 

Tuesday wound up being my day off, so having checked everything in the application pile umpteen times, I set off to the Russian Embassy.  I knew it was in Karori, and I had imagined some grandiose building with huge gates and scary looking guards, most likely with bullet- and stab-proof vests and machine guns, on a main street.  But when I Google mapped it, it was on a really suburban street.  I found my way there, and drove all the way up and all the way back down the road.  I saw a relatively grandiose building with big gates, so I naturally assumed that was it.  It was a retirement village.  I had by that stage parked and started walking, so I kept walking like that was what I planned all along.  I happened to see a totally non-descript place with a big white wall that had a small plaque on it, which turned out to be The Embassy of the Russian Confederation in New Zealand.  Not exactly what I was expecting.  The only security was a gate at street level that you had to be buzzed through.  I walked up the stairs and opened the door.  There was a swelteringly hot room with a window at the far end that looked through to the next room, a lot of signs in Russian on the walls, about six people sitting around, and one or two spare chairs.  Everybody in the room turned around and stared at me as I walked in.  I had no idea whether there was some kind of obscure queuing system going on, but one of the women behind the window immediately called me over.  Another woman was being served next to me at the window, and she was speaking rather loudly on her mobile in Russian.  The woman who was serving me was clearly Russian.  While she was looking over my application, the door opened and someone else came in.  They said something in Russian which everyone else in the room repeated (note to self:  Start Studying) and I finally worked out why everyone stared at me silently when I'd walked in.  I was the only person there who wasn't Russian.

The woman who was serving me spent a good few minutes reading over everything, comparing things on the various pieces of paper, and then reading things again while running her finger along underneath them.  Me being me, I was by that stage absolutely certain that I was going to be told I couldn't have a visa for some reason that they'd then refuse to tell me, and that I was going to have to rearrange all my flights and accommodation and tour dates.  But, total anticlimax, she just asked for payment, and said that everything looked fine and I should come back next Thursday to pick it up. 

So in the next 45 days, I only have to:  sell my car (which has now decided to grow a leak in the head gasket and render itself completely unsalvageable and unsaleable); sell my bed and stereo; decide what I'm going to keep and what I'm going to throw out, both at my flat and the pile of junk Dad's been storing for the past few years; pack a bag to travel with and maybe a box to have sent over to Canada when I get there; buy a flight from Athens to Vancouver and one out of Canada; organise accommodation in Hong Kong, Greece, and Vancouver; start learning Russian; and organise the written references I want.

Oh CRAP.

Staff Meeting and Postal Tag

In an hour or so, we're having a staff meeting. The main purpose of this meeting is to announce who's taking over my job when I finish in 6 weeks time.

It's another one of those situations that makes me really unsure of how I feel. Right now, I'm apprehensive and a little bit sad. It's not a moment I've been looking forward to. That's My Job, and it's been My Job for a long time now. I was there from almost the start of the company, I was the first and only Staff Manager (til now), and I even helped to figure out what exactly the job was going to encompass. I've written all the paperwork. I've hired most of the staff, and at the absolute minimum I played a role in training each of them. It's been a huge part of my life for nearly four years. So no, handing over the reigns is not going to be easy.

But it's time.

On a different note, I finally received my Criminal Record document from the Police. I do not understand how that took an entire month. The whole thing was two lines long, it only needed to say "this person has no criminal record in our system, love from the Police". Grr... Anyway. So I put the letter with everything else I'd already organised to send away for my Canadian working holiday visa, checked it all off against the list, took it all to the post office, and put it in the post with much relief and lightness of heart.

Two days ago I got the whole lot sent back. I hadn't signed one of the pages. It was signed and back in the post that afternoon. At this rate I'll be inviting the Thorndon post office staff to my leaving do!

Two Months To Go!

Tomorrow is bang on two months before I fly out...  I'm not entirely sure how I feel about that.  "Excited" is not the right word.  "Strange" might be a bit closer.  I keep having these moments of feeling completely taken aback about the places I'm going to go and the things I'm going to do.  Two days ago it was "I'm going to Romania".  Yesterday it was "Moscow...".  Today it's "OH MY GOD IT'S ONLY TWO MONTHS UNTIL I FLY OUT!".  Although I am much calmer about the whole thing now than I was a week or so ago.

Today I spent the whole day running round Achieving Things (after I woke up at 11am, that is).  I took my backpack in to have the places where the stitching has pulled resewed.  I went to the Sheepskin Warehouse in Evans Bay, where I used to work, and spent over $100 on merino-possum blend socks and gloves.  I went to the bank, organised the bank cheque for my Canadian working holiday visa, and sent that application away.  I washed my car and took it to Turners to see what they thought they could do with it (sell it for $500 at minimum $300 commission.  Conclusion:  Not Worth It).  I asked at TSB Bank about a Visa, because they have the best charges and rates, but it turns out you have to have a bank account with them for 6 months before they'll approve you for a credit card, so that went out the window too.  AND I tidied my room.  That only leaves me with a list that's most of the length of my arm to complete before I leave!