I felt extraordinarily triumphant after I submitted my online UK visa application in early July. You would too. The questions on it go beyond your basic address-phone number-social security number kind of questions. I watched a 14-minute video on how to fill it out, I googled answers to questions, I read THE ENTIRE NINETY-THREE PAGES of the Tier 4 student application guidance, and I scheduled my biometrics appointment for them to take my fingerprints and picture for as soon as I could so that I could send in the paper copy of my visa as soon as possible because, you know, responsibility. Triumphant responsibility.
And then I lived my life for a few days, said my goodbyes, finished packing up the rest of my things, which took up a surprisingly large amount of space in my car, and drove across the state, effectively changing my address, though I still paid enough rent there to continue to receive mail there. I moved back into my parents' house for the end of the summer, which, as some of you may know, takes a lot of calling in family favors and creative box stacking. By the time the 4th of July came around, I felt about as settled as I could.
That's when I got around to noticing that my Immigration Health Surcharge had not been paid. This induced a small panic. I also noticed that the system was switching over so that there wasn't a way for me to pay the fee, which induced a slightly larger panic. I had never received an email or a link or a notification asking me to pay it after I submitted my online application. I read back through everything, knowing that if I sent in my visa application without the health fee paid, it would be rejected. I also remembered, from my thorough reading of all those legal notices I had to check before I could submit the application, that if my biometrics (fingerprints and picture) were submitted, I couldn't cancel my application and get a refund of the substantial fee for the visa. With all of that in mind, it seemed like I should just cancel my application before I go to my biometrics appointment, get the refund, and try again.
Except that made me nervous, on top of the already present borderline hyperventilation caused by this situation. I feel like that nervousness is a really sensible trait, the nervousness in the face of canceling a long and complex application without consulting another human being with knowledge of the process. So I emailed the help email on the website (it was the weekend, there was a pay-per-minute charge for the phone service, etc.) and waited for a response, thinking that I had to be a special case and there has to be some way of taking care of this fee without having to go through the visa process again.
Well, my Monday morning biometrics appointment rolls around and I hadn't receive an email from the help desk yet, so I drive down to Charlotte, thinking that getting this knocked out of the way is the responsible thing to do while I'm waiting on my question to be answered, have really the nicest interaction I have ever had in a bureaucratic setting, and drive back home, fingerprints and photo safely on the way to whatever British official needs them. The next day, I get an email with a link to paying the health charge, which I try to do and fail because Immigration Health Surcharges are no longer self-pay; you pay when you submit your online visa application.
So then I call.
I pick up my phone and I call the $3 per minute service to get a question answered. The phone call starts off with my reading off my credit card information so that they can charge me and proceeds to the most stressful three-minute interaction about spelling my name for an email address that I've ever had. I describe the situation and the lady says that there's nothing she can do to help, especially now that my biometrics are in, and that if I want, she can escalate the situation.
And she just says it like that. "Escalate the situation." Like I'm not already at my wits' end with this whole scenario. Like I wasn't already going to ask to speak to your manager, who can hopefully understand my accent better than you. Like I know what "escalating" entails. When I ask her what that means, she explains in a huff that she'll send me an email, asking for more information about my application that she'll send to her superiors who will review my case. Well, clearly. That's exactly the definition I should have expected from your use of that word. Sorry I bothered to ask. I tell her that it's fine. Let's just go ahead and escalate.
I thought she said that I should get the email in ten hours, but after a day later, I assume that she never got down my email address right to begin with. So I suck it up, cancel my first application (which I haven't mailed off yet), and copy the information from my printed application to my new online application, schedule another appointment, and pay the application fee again, which has gone up from $502 to $515. Oh, and I pay my Immigration Health Surcharge, a cool $360. I mean, that's less than I'd probably have to pay for a month of health insurance in the US and it covers a year of universal health care there, so I can't be all that upset about that fee, but I can be upset about having to pay that ridiculous visa application fee twice, can't I?
Well, technically, no. They put up a big bold notice in a big red box probably a month before the system switched over warning you that you'd have to pay your IHS before July 4 to avoid my situation. (They definitely planned the date to screw over Americans though. Some people just never got over losing their colonies, I tell you.) I ignored that notice. I didn't go searching for how to pay the fee. In all those pages I read, it just said to pay it online, without any real guidance on how, but I could have googled that easily. In fact, I have several times since. It's all very clear and streamlined now. And, as previously established, I knew that going to my biometrics appointment meant that I couldn't get my first application fee refunded.
That's the line I walk with this. I think the process is stacked against those who aren't thorough and tenacious enough to read all the details and go searching for answers. But I wasn't tenacious. I didn't do it right. I made a mistake. A $515 mistake. That's where I get stopped when I think about appealing it. All in all, it is my fault and they told me in no uncertain terms that it would be.
It feels like there should be some kind of grace in this process, but I understand why there's not. There's not time to go through every person applying for a visa and deal with their every problem and if you help one person, you open up the door to by being accessible. Plus, they get to collect a fee twice for the dumbest of reasons and any kind of revenue has to be helpful when you have to pay for all those sick people. I'm sure that over the course of the year, I won't even miss that $40 per month. Nope. Not at all.
Wow. It is difficult to stay away from snark on this one.
Listen, my visa is approved and it's here in my hands and soon this will all be an unpleasant memory and this sinking feeling that this is what it's like all the time when you're poor is going to do just that- sink on away, out of sight. Systems like this, they exist all across governments. Maybe the fees aren't always as high as the visa feet, but it is always a slough to get through all that paperwork and those legal notices. I'll just pray that I don't have to deal with much else like this again. And you know I'll be more careful the next time!
Yeah.
Just let that feeling sink away.
But if you ever find yourself in need of visa help, shoot me an email! I've got more experience than I want.
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