Wednesday, September 10, 2014

Resigning Part 2: Day 3

I was tired of waiting for the old company to do anything, and the HR lady from the new company assured me that their "fixer" was working on it.  The "fixer" is a Saudi man with a lot of wasta or power & influence who helps out when there are problems with the government and the company.  Since the company is British, and technically no foreign companies can operate on their own in Saudi, my new company is being sponsored by him.  Of course, it is in his best interest to make sure everything goes smoothly for the business because if they do well, he gets a kickback.  If they go under, he looses money.  Anyway, I was assured that he was working on it, and that he had my contact details and would call me to speak with me about my situation.  That was on Sunday, and it was not Wednesday and I hadn't heard from him.

Even though the embassy had been less than useful before, I thought it would give it another try since now my contract with the old company was officially ended.  So, I made an appointment for 2pm with the embassy.  I also called and asked the HR manager of my new company to send me Suliaman (the fixer)'s number so that I could try to reach him.  I went to the office as usual,  made my morning rounds to all the pertinent offices to ask if any progress had been made and as usual, got the same conciliatory head shake and promise of "later".   I figured I would give it until 1pm, then go to my appointment at the embassy.  Mohammed kindly arranged a driver for me to the embassy so that I wouldn't have to take a taxi.  Meanwhile I finally got HR on the phone of my new company and asked her again to send me Sulaiman's contact info.  She told me he had a contact at the embassy, and I figured it wouldn't hurt to name drop while I was there, but I needed to know who his contact was.  She promised to text it to me.  I waited an hour, and when there was still no text, I sent her a quick reminder.  Finally, she sent me his number at about 12:30.

I gave him a call, and he answered on the first ring.  He recognized my name and I told him I was going to the embassy and could he please tell me the name of his contact because I had already been and they told me they couldn't help in labor disputes.  He told me the name of the man, but said, it isn't a labor dispute, it's an exit visa issue and I explained that when I went before they told me there was really nothing I could do but wait for them to process the iqama.  He told me that was a lie, there was no need for an iqama because if it was a visit or business visa they couldn't give me an iqama no matter what.  I told him I didn't have a visit or business visa, I had an iqama visa.  He said, are you sure? and I said yes I am sure and he said, well, that changes everything.  And I was surprised because I sent the HR lady a copy of the visa page from my passport on two separate occasions and both times she had sent it to Sulaiman, so I just assumed he had already seen it and knew what kind of visa it was.  He asked me to take a picture and send it to him so he could be sure.  Thankfully, I had my tablet, and also thankfully, the staff had taken pity on me by now and given me the password to their wifi which is guarded as sacredly as the recipe for Bush's baked beans so I was able to send it.

Within five minutes Sulaiman had called me back and told me to forget going to the embassy, and to bring my passport to his office and he would sort everything out.  I told him my passport was still at the labor office with the company representative and he told me not to worry that I could come any time.  So I cancelled my appointment with the embassy (which probably looks bad since it was only an hours notice instead of the 24 they ask for) but forgot about telling the transportation staff I wouldn't need to go to the embassy after all, and went downstairs to await the arrival of my passport.  Thankfully the guy returned five minutes before one o clock, which is when I was originally supposed to leave.  They gave me my passport and I as I was walking downstairs, Faisal grabbed me and said the driver was waiting for me to go to the embassy.  I did still need a ride, just not to the embassy, so I improvised.  I told him my appointment wasn't at the embassy after all but at another office at exit 7.  Riyadh is encircled by a giant ring road and everywhere you need to go is dictated by it's exit number on the ring road.  It's actually a pretty efficient system.  I expected them to just say, well, forget it, find a taxi, but instead they said no problem, and off I went to the great Sulaiman.

I had never met a man with wasta before so I was a little nervous.  He gave me directions over the phone and told me his office was at exit 7, go straight and it's above the Al Abdula bank.  I had never heard of Al Abdula bank and neither had the driver, but we did our best.  We drove on the exit 7 road for a long way, an uncomfortably long way, so I gave Sulaiman a call and handed the phone over to the driver to get directions, when literally, right in front of us, we saw the bank.  It was really kind of  funny, but it made me feel bad for having called him again.  He was a little frustrated because he said, I sent you the location by phone, and I had to explain that I didn't have internet on my phone, so I hadn't gotten it before I left.  The driver dropped me off and this time I was smart enough to ask him to wait.  I told him I would go up and if it was going to be more than 30 minutes I would call him and tell him to go.  So I took his number and went inside the bank.  I immediately felt strange.  There were only men inside, and a quick recon told me there were no stairs to the upper stories.  I hurriedly went out.  Most banks have a ladies branch and a male branch.  I clearly hadn't gone in the right entrance.  I went around to the back and there was a shady looking alleyway, but I didn't see a door at the end of it so I didn't go down it.  Then I went back around to the other side, but it was a strip mall and there were only other stores.  I really didn't want to bother Sulaiman again, but I also couldn't find the entrance so I really had no choice.  So I rang him again and he told me to go down the alley way and sure enough, at the very end, there was a door.  I went up and found door number 18.  It was large and imposing and I was sure no one would ever hear me knocking, but I knocked anyway.

After a moment I heard someone coming to the door and they ushered me into a sleek modern looking office and offered me a seat on the couch and fresh dates and coffee and water.  Sulaiman was at his desk, smoking and talking animatedly on the phone.  He looked like a regular guy, but with a definite confident air.  I could tell he was important, but I wondered how much of that was because I knew he was important.  When he was finished on the phone, he came over and sat in the arm chair opposite me.  I showed him my passport and the letter that said I was finished with the company and the application paper for my iqama that I had finally gotten Saeed to make a copy of for me.  He took it and looked it over and told me the application form said it was rejected for non-payment, not because of any name change in the company.  He asked for Saeed's number and I gave it to him.  He didn't answer.  I gave him Osama's number and he didn't answer.  Then I gave him Mohammed's number and Mohammed explained that everyone was in a meeting with the VP at the moment which is why no one was answering.  We talked some more and I tried to explain the situation including what the old company had said was the problem.  Finally, he called again, and while it was ringing he said, this time he will answer, and as if by magic, Saeed did pick up.  They had a long talk in Arabic, and I heard my name several times, and after about 10 minutes or so, he hung up.

"Jennifer," he said, "Here is what I will do.  They have some problem with you and the other four ladies who can't get iqamas.  I will fix this issue for them at the labor department and they agreed to transfer you to my sponsorship.  Hallas (Finished.)"  Just like that.  Solved.  Almost a month of stress and turmoil and everything was solved after one phone call?  I wasn't sure whether to laugh or to cry.  Not only that but all the other girls who couldn't get their iqama's would be helped too!  It was a perfect solution. I thanked him and he told me all he needed from me were 2 photos and he would take care of the rest.  I asked him if he needed me to stay in Riyadh or if I could go back to Khobar.  He told me to stay, because it was prayer now, so I wouldn't be able to bring him the pictures until tomorrow.  You have somewhere to stay? he asked.  I told him I was in my old companies housing and that they would let me stay there.  Good.  He said.  So tomorrow come back and I will go to the labor office myself, and everything will be solved.  Don't worry.  For the first time, I actually believed that that was true.  We shook hands and I told him I would see him tomorrow.

I went downstairs, and my driver was still there.  I asked him to take me back to the hotel, and I asked him if there were any photo places nearby and he pointed out the road they were on on the way back and told me that after he got off work at 4:30 he could take me.  I said that would be great and thanked him.  Promptly at 5, he called me and I went downstairs to meet him, he took me to the photo place, and waited while they took my picture and then photo-shopped the heck out of it.  I was fine with it the way it was originally, but apparently he felt the white background wasn't white enough, so he erased the background and did a little airbrushing while he was at it.  Honestly it will be the best ID photo I will ever have.  Then I asked him to take me to the bank so I could make sure I had been  paid, and sure enough, I had been paid.  I withdrew the maximum amount since the finance guy had told me all of the companies Al Raji bank cards were going to expire at the end of September.  I didn't want it to expire before I got all of my money out.  Then he took me back.  I asked him how much, and he told me nothing.  I tried to insist on paying him, because it was after work hours, but he just smiled and told me no thank you, that it was his pleasure, and so I thanked him and then went inside.  It had been a really really good day.

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