It’s a Sunday, and I’m sitting at my favourite weekday lunchtime café. I’m on my second coffee and my first sultana scone. But I’ve got loads of clotted cream and jam. Yet, it’s still not making feel any better. I think I need a cupcake to go with the scone.
Due to yesterday’s events, I’m still livid. I got a text from Pete around six o’clock saying that CoolTrous was cooking dinner if I wanted to meet him over there. I happily went along, and was pleased to find a big pot of veggie spagbol on the hob and garlic bread in the oven. We piled up our plates and I asked Pete about his first day at work.
His response: ‘Oh yeah. I don’t have job it turns out.’
I’m sure you’re as floored as I was. I stammered out a series of ‘What? Why? Where have you been all day?’
His response: ‘It was a job interview not a job, but since I don’t have a work permit they didn’t hire me.’
I was near to screaming, ‘No shit Sherlock’, but he cut me off with, ‘Yeah, it turns out that being from a Commonwealth country doesn’t entitle me to work in the UK.’
Once again, ‘No shit Sherlock!’ But instead I asked, ‘Where have you been all day?’
His response: ‘Here [at CoolTrous] hanging out.’
I didn’t know what to do. I couldn’t lose my shit in someone else’s flat, but I was so livid at his cavalier attitude. He even said, ‘I asked them if they’d hire me under the table, but they said “no”.’
No Shit Sherlock!
I did actually lose it at this point. I said that ‘Of course they weren’t going to hire a random illegal person they’d never met before.’
And he fired back at me that ‘It wasn’t a big deal. He’s sort something out.’
CoolTrous then piped up and said, ‘I’ve already got something lined up for Pete. I know a woman who needs someone to clean her house once a week, and walk her dog while she’s at work. Pete can do that for cash.’
I was exasperated, but urged to sit down and eat my spagbol, because ‘It would all work out.’
This morning I asked Pete when his flight back to Canada was. That perhaps if it was only a month or so away, I can float him until he gets back to Canada and gets a job to pay me back.
He got really arsey with me about this, and said that wasn’t the point. He thought that I’d be happy he was here. ‘In New Zealand we talked about how great it would be if we lived in the same country, and now we do. I thought you’d be happy.’
I tried to explain that I was happy he’s here, but I’m just stressed about the circumstances. I’m on a tight budget, with the flat and the debt that I owe from my travels, plus my student loan repayments are going to come out of my pay, I can’t support someone else. I tried to explain that I was ecstatic that he’s here in Britain, but I wish it was under better circumstances.
I asked again when his ticket back to Canada was scheduled? That once he went back home and got a job, then we sort out getting him like a proper UK work visa or something.
His response, ‘I don’t have a ticket back to Canada.’
Where I travelled around the world on a round-the-world ticket for my gap summer, he’s been buying plane and train tickets as he went. He’s had no plans. In fact, this is when I discovered that he didn’t actually have a young person’s work visa for Australia and New Zealand like he led me to believe. He just ‘planned on getting one if he decided to work.’
I was so angry I had to leave the house. I’m not necessarily angry at him, I’m just annoyed at the situation, because I don’t know what to do. He’s got no where else to go, and no where else to turn, but I can’t support him. I simply don’t make enough money to do that. And he’s so blasé about the whole thing, which doesn’t help matters any. I don’t know. But he did come here to be with me. I really don’t think there’s any malice in his situation, he just doesn’t think.
Right now, I’m going to read a few blogs, eat my scone and hopefully I’ll feel better.