It was a bleak October, we were surviving as best we could...
Wait, stop. That's not how it started.
On a cold and gloomy October evening in 2012, Ryboginyushka and I were wandering through the backstreets of the universe to a costume shop for a Halloween hat. A soul-chilling wind, typical for late autumn, was blowing, our boots were sinking in the mud, our brains were fried after a busy workday, and we wanted to live, but only conditionally—in short, nothing at all foreshadowed trouble.
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I read about Work and Travel today, it's an interesting thing, have you heard of it? - Ryboginyushka suddenly uttered.
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Of course I've heard of it, but that's only for full-time students, what's in it for us? - I reacted pessimistically.
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No, well, actually I checked specifically, evening students can apparently do it too... And what, would you like to go if it works out? You said you wanted to keep working at the magazine for a while longer? - Ryboginyushka asked cautiously.
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Are you even asking! To hell with the job, it's three months in America! - I yelled.
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Well then, let's see what the money and deadlines are like...
On November 30, I signed a contract for a new job (I had to leave the magazine because I was used to being paid in money, not promises).
On November 30, we signed a contract with an agency, which effectively meant that in six months I would have to quit my new job as well.
Looking back, I realize that the miracles associated with Work and Travel began to happen even then.
A real miracle, for example, was that December 14 was our deadline for the first installment, and I didn't have more than 300 rubles in my wallet at the time (and the upcoming trip to Paris for New Year's was driving me into debt). And suddenly, on December 13, my bank card received the payment for a month and a half of work at the magazine, for which I had been bravely fighting for five weeks.
We paid, chose an employer (an amusement park in Maryland), sent our resumes, and began to wait (still calmly at that moment).
On January 24, around 6 PM, my mobile rang, and our coordinator's anxious voice shouted: "You have a Skype interview with the employer in two hours, check your email urgently! And tell Maria!"
- HOLY MASTERS, WHERE AM I GOING TO FIND SKYPE IN TWO HOURS - I screamed across the office, scaring the head of security next door.
We found it, of course. An internet cafe on Tverskaya kindly sheltered us in the hallway of a shopping center for a reasonable price, and we began calling the sponsor company representative with trepidation.
But here the first "Oops" awaited us - he was frankly not interested in us, and after dropping half a dozen calls, he wrote to us that he would call back himself as soon as he was free.
And here the second "Oops" crept up, our paid time ran out, and looking around, we discovered that, HOLY GEARS, WE ARE LOCKED IN AN EMPTY SHOPPING CENTER!
Despite the complete fiasco, not everything was lost yet; we passed the interview (not without adventures, but still) a couple of days later, already from our own homes, having acquired webcams, received preliminary consent for employment, and held our breath waiting for the offers.
On February 14, we received the offers and became fully confident that we would be at the embassy very soon.
Naive!
The embassy appointment was only set for April 18.
Wait. Wait. WAIT! What could be more agonizing for two restless people who are used to living under this motto?:
But even that would have been fine, if not for..
When March arrived, a real drama began - the first interviews at the embassy started, and heads began to roll - rejections, rejections, rejections. Reading forums and "Kommersant", we turned pale, green, and gray, watching as our already low chances were literally digging their own graves, and even sprinkling themselves with dirt on top, just to be sure. Hope didn't just die, it just committed hara-kiri, sarcastically laughing at our attempts to believe in the best and program the Universe. Signs haunted us, but were so contradictory that I physically felt my brain curling into a tube. Time and news mockingly danced the can-can on our nerves.
Everything passes - on April 18, my alarm clock rang at 5:30 AM...
by Yulchen
