I almost got a job in Hong Kong.
Well, almost being the operative word.
Last week, I got a call from a friend who is now based in Hong Kong. He got a hold of my CV and thought I'd be perfect for a job in the new branch of their headhunting agency that just recently opened in Kowloon. After briefing me on the company and the position, he sent me an email and basically told me to "have a look at it and let me know what you think of living in Hong Kong!" I took the latter to heart and naturally started thinking of a fresh start in Hong Kong.
I am not going to lie. I got really excited. I mean really excited. So much so that D and I started crunching numbers, figuring out how we can move our money around to afford a decent standard of living in oh-so expensive Hong Kong. We also started to think about what to do with our furniture. We thought, these we'd sell, these we'd leave with trusted friends, and these we'd take with us. I even started looking at luggage because D desperately needed one. D and I got so caught up with the idea of the new culture we'll assimilate to, the glorious Chinese food we'll be stuffing ourselves with, and the sweater weather! D was thrilled with the idea of wearing sweaters again, while I was just thrilled to wear knee-high boots!
Unfortunately, our fresh start in Hong Kong went down the drain after I got news earlier this week that the company is not sure if they can sponsor my work visa. Some hoopla about Hong Kong immigration and discrimination against Filipinos. What a bummer. It sucks balls. Lots and lots of balls.
After hearing the news, I tried so hard to console myself with the thought that it wasn't meant to be. But I won't deny that there were tears. In fact, there were buckets of them. And wailing. Shameless wailing.
As calm finally set in, the first thing I did was send my CVs again. Because that's what you do when you really want to get what you want. Hong Kong may have slipped my hands this time around, but next time, oh next time I won't let it.
