The last you want to be in a country that's been recently hit by terrorism of foreign origin is to be a foreigner without a legal status. I came really close to being an illegal alien in March 2002. According to Sapient's legal representation, my H-1B worker visa was void as of March 15 2002. A conversion of status from H-1B to tourist visa was out of the question. They told me the best bet was to go back to Turkey and try to obtain a tourist visa to come back to the United States. This was some poor piece of advice: Anyone in their right own mind at the time could tell you that going back to Turkey meant that I would not be able to come back for some amount of time.
After the ordeal that was 9/11, United States made the process of getting a tourist visa in a foreign country a complete nightmare. Don't get me wrong, it was not as if it was easy to get a tourist visa at a US embassy in the first place. Even people with F-1s and H1-Bs were being turned down. The most common reason being the immigration officer's belief that the person applying for the visa is intending to settle in the US and perhaps look for employment --heaven forbid, how could they intend to do such a horrible thing.
This country has completely forgotten how it got started in the first place --in more ways than one. The one I have been most exposed to is with respect to its policies about immigration. It seems that one can float to the US shore from Cuba and get instant asylum. This same person could to go to an ivy school and then get a graduate degree; perhaps even proceed to work in the tech industry for several years. This time, he would have to go through a 4-7 year application for resident alien process. The application process involved trying to prove his worth to the Department of Labor and the INS to get a green card.
When I explain this process to an American citizen not familiar with the subject, they’re usually shocked with disbelief. This is because most Americans think that the current immigration progress is similar to what they read in their history books. Well it isn’t; and it has not been the same since the !980s at which time INS made some fundamental changes to the green card application process that made it orders of magnitude difficult to complete.
The current system is geared towards beefing up the lower class that is usually willing to work under harsh working conditions and be paid comparatively nothing for their long hours at work. Therefore the legacy of the first generation Americans continues --we lose this first generation to health problems related to poor working and/or living conditions. The second generation eventually makes it but they too go through a lot.
I do not know why I thought I would be an exception to this rule. Well, I wasn't. The US that embraced my cash so fondly when I was attending college suddenly grew cold and distant after graduation. It seemed that the relationship had ended but I still carried on like a desperate husband, trying to keep everyone under the same roof.
What's worse is, my employer, Sapient, used the green card as a carrot to motivate me to move to New York City. The harsh truth of course came up once I had uprooted my whole life and moved to New York City. The person in charge of foreign workers there informed me that unlike the previous information given me, the green card process did not take 2 years, it took 7-10 years. I felt so betrayed as I held the phone in my sweaty palm. Her calm voice carried on telling me how difficult the process was –as if she was just telling me about the congested traffic on the West Side Highway. This was so disheartening for me but I still had to believe in the process, and the good will of the corporation towards its employees. Sapient's behavior near the layoff and afterwards proved my hope to be in vain.
After the layoff, everything Sapient legal team told me involved leaving the US, going back to Turkey and forgetting my life in the US. I was not willing to give up just like that. I had spent a good ten years in the US. I had a life, a career and a loved one here. It did not make sense to give up all that just yet.
The only help I got from the most unlikely source ever, the cleaning lady on our floor. She was an Indian national and she had obtained a green card. She recommended her attorneys and gave me their contact information. I called the attorneys the next day; Khine and Napolitano LLP.
Theresa Napolitano met with me that week and she was very helpful. She informed me that my status still could be changed to tourist B2 visa. We swiftly completed the application and sent it to the INS. We heard back from INS in a couple of weeks. My visa was approved for 6 months. I figured this was plenty of time to find another job in the New York City area.
So the job hunt began; I was excited. I felt that this would be a new beginning, and another chance to find my place in this big city. I kept saying to myself, "if I can make it here, I can make it anywhere". I sounded like a bad Broadway musical. But it was spring; how depressed could I allow myself to be when the trees in Union Square park were blooming, when the streets called out my name, when afternoons at the Virgin Mega store were followed by a walk uptown on Broadway to meet my cousin for dinner.
I had money from the severance, my parents were reluctant but still supportive --for a while I was on top of the world.
My job title changed from Flash Tech Lead / Internet Consultant to Aspiring Painter, Writer, Loser overnight. I was willing to let myself go though; it was as if I wanted to see if there was a bottom to the pit I had feared so much for so long. I was in the pit now, and slipping down slowly but I wanted to find out how deep this pit went and if I could hit the rock bottom after all --after all these years of almost impeccable record and good reputation.
Odd Todd's merit lies in his ability to turn his misery into art and also make some money from it. You should check out his new book, I really liked it. I am also tempted to buy his mugs and other merchandise.
Category :
This Wednesday I had to drop by our client's office located on 55 Broad st. After the meeting, I was trying to figure out the best way to get back to New Jersey, where my office is located. Wandering around on Wall Street, I found myself walking towards the WTC direction. It was as if my mind was tricking me to think that there were still ferries running between the Financial Center docks and Exchange Place.
As I approached the site, it got quieter. Don't get me wrong, there was plenty of activity on the streets but people were quieter. It seemed like fewer people talked, fewer people smiled, in fact fewer people ever looked up from the ground to catch someone else's eyes.
Several stores were still closed. Some restaurants were open serving meals for the volunteers and construction workers at the site.
Everywhere were tired construction workers, their faces covered with white dust and disbelief. Even after working at the site for more than a month, it seemed like they were not able to accept what had happened. Another thing that factors into the disbelief is the scale of the work ahead. These people are being asked to clear up a site where two 100-storey buildings stood in a frame of time shorter than it original took to build them.
The streets were all dug up from West to East and there were tens of pipes, cables running in the trenches. I guess they were bypassing all the lines that went through the site but the resulting the view was very chilling. It reminded me of a biological organism that had been injured, now in the aftermath there were many more blood vessels in the area, lots of scar tissue, security for making sure that the site of injury does not get infected.
Then without a warning I looked north and I caught more than a glimpse of the South Tower's remains. The remains stood at least 10-20 storeys high and it all did not look real. It was as if someone was projecting this image from somewhere in the sky. To the left was Batter Park City, a symbol of pleasures and rich living and to the left was the proud Wall Street buildings standing proud and tall and in the middle of all of this the WTC site was completely out of place.
The air was surprisingly clear, the wind must have been blowing northward, I was to the south of the site. I found myself walking as close as I could get and there were tens of people there, all silently staring. The feeling was very similar to what you feel when you enter an old cathedral. The grief had subtle but dense presence at the observation points which were the closest a
civilian could get to the site.
After a few minutes of staring into the emptiness that was called WTC, people would turn back with perhaps wet eyes and walk to wherever they were headed originally. I too stood there for a while and absorbed what I was seeing before me. Then something in me clicked and I too turned around and continued my walk.
I reached Battery Park City that was much quieter than I had ever seen it before. Those handsome apartment buildings I had so desperately wished to live in before had changed. They did not shine with that carefree glitter of wealth anymore. Several windows had no curtains in them that lead me to believe that some tenants had moved out. Strange as it is I could not help but wonder what the current rent is in these buildings? Even in the middle of all these mixed
feelings the New Yorker in my head was thinking of the possibility of moving to these previously overpriced apartments.
I finally figured out that I would not be able to catch a ferry from the World Financial Center side so I walked back to an NR station and took it uptown to 9th Street Path Station and then I was off to NJ for the rest of my uneventful day.
When I look at the WTC today, it does not create anger in me, it creates sadness, and a need to reflect on what was before all this happened, and what has changed since. I do not feel like lashing out at the rest of the world, I do not feel like taking over the Middle East, I do not feel like bombing anywhere. I feel like going into a Starbucks and watching people walk the streets of NY as if nothing happened. I longed to catch a couple exchange a prolonged kiss at the corner. Many people speak of their lives returning to normal; strange I never quite felt mine ever was normal and I do not think that it really will return to any previous point it was at before.
November 17 2001
As I approached the site, it got quieter. Don't get me wrong, there was plenty of activity on the streets but people were quieter. It seemed like fewer people talked, fewer people smiled, in fact fewer people ever looked up from the ground to catch someone else's eyes.
Several stores were still closed. Some restaurants were open serving meals for the volunteers and construction workers at the site.
Everywhere were tired construction workers, their faces covered with white dust and disbelief. Even after working at the site for more than a month, it seemed like they were not able to accept what had happened. Another thing that factors into the disbelief is the scale of the work ahead. These people are being asked to clear up a site where two 100-storey buildings stood in a frame of time shorter than it original took to build them.
The streets were all dug up from West to East and there were tens of pipes, cables running in the trenches. I guess they were bypassing all the lines that went through the site but the resulting the view was very chilling. It reminded me of a biological organism that had been injured, now in the aftermath there were many more blood vessels in the area, lots of scar tissue, security for making sure that the site of injury does not get infected.
Then without a warning I looked north and I caught more than a glimpse of the South Tower's remains. The remains stood at least 10-20 storeys high and it all did not look real. It was as if someone was projecting this image from somewhere in the sky. To the left was Batter Park City, a symbol of pleasures and rich living and to the left was the proud Wall Street buildings standing proud and tall and in the middle of all of this the WTC site was completely out of place.
The air was surprisingly clear, the wind must have been blowing northward, I was to the south of the site. I found myself walking as close as I could get and there were tens of people there, all silently staring. The feeling was very similar to what you feel when you enter an old cathedral. The grief had subtle but dense presence at the observation points which were the closest a
civilian could get to the site.
After a few minutes of staring into the emptiness that was called WTC, people would turn back with perhaps wet eyes and walk to wherever they were headed originally. I too stood there for a while and absorbed what I was seeing before me. Then something in me clicked and I too turned around and continued my walk.
I reached Battery Park City that was much quieter than I had ever seen it before. Those handsome apartment buildings I had so desperately wished to live in before had changed. They did not shine with that carefree glitter of wealth anymore. Several windows had no curtains in them that lead me to believe that some tenants had moved out. Strange as it is I could not help but wonder what the current rent is in these buildings? Even in the middle of all these mixed
feelings the New Yorker in my head was thinking of the possibility of moving to these previously overpriced apartments.
I finally figured out that I would not be able to catch a ferry from the World Financial Center side so I walked back to an NR station and took it uptown to 9th Street Path Station and then I was off to NJ for the rest of my uneventful day.
When I look at the WTC today, it does not create anger in me, it creates sadness, and a need to reflect on what was before all this happened, and what has changed since. I do not feel like lashing out at the rest of the world, I do not feel like taking over the Middle East, I do not feel like bombing anywhere. I feel like going into a Starbucks and watching people walk the streets of NY as if nothing happened. I longed to catch a couple exchange a prolonged kiss at the corner. Many people speak of their lives returning to normal; strange I never quite felt mine ever was normal and I do not think that it really will return to any previous point it was at before.
November 17 2001
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