Red tape II

Red tape II

Job

Of course while all that was going on, I was desperately looking for work. I sent an average of two applications every day for two months. I was taking Norwegian lessons once a week and feeling more and more confident, but I certainly wasn't competent enough to send a full application and covering letter in Norwegian. I could have used google translate, but that would have given the reader a false impression of my abilities. So I sent cvs and covering letters to pretty much every company in the town in English. Whether they were looking for people or not.

Days turned to weeks and weeks turned to months. Nothing. 

Not a single call. No reply. Not even a thanks, but no thanks. I was hoping to fall back on my old trade as a chef, but nobody seemed to be hiring. At least not considering me.

What was going to happen if I didn't get anything? My gf had a full time job and our outgoings where almost nothing, but what if I don't get anything at all? 

Will this plan have an early end?

Being unemployed is great for a week or two, but after that you start having your feelings of self-worth put into question. I tried to keep myself busy studying Norwegian, going out on my mountain bike and doing odd jobs around the house, but for the most part I had absolutely nothing to do. Sinking ever deeper into the couch and feeling worthless.

Then a phone call. A girl who manages a large pizza place in town, calling me in for an interview. This was it. My one chance to make this all work. Further down the line when my Norwegian is more fluent, I would stand a much better chance at getting something more in line with my recent experience. Something that would pay better, but right now, this was my shot.

The phone rang again. Another kitchen was getting back to me and calling me in for an interview. 

Isn't that always the way? You wait forever for a bus, then two come at the same time. 

I couldn't believe that I would be in the position of being able to chose between the two positions. And that's just what I did. I went with the one that could offer me the most hours and job security.

I was absolutely elated.

I phoned my family. I realised only then, that I hadn't spoken to them in quite some time. 

Subconsciously a part of me was holding off on doing this until I had something positive to say.

I certainly did now.

I had a job. 

Amazing.

Kommune

Now that I had a job, I had to pay tax obviously. I went back to the tax office to ask for a form and show my employment contract.

On the form was a section - Your overseas address.

I explained that I live here. I don't have an address in the UK anymore. 

She told me that I had to have an address overseas in order to register for income tax in Norway. (!!!???) 

Familiar feelings of frustration and disbelief started sinking back in. I asked if I could give my parents address in the UK, even though I've never lived there and probably never will.

"Yes, that's fine" 

huh??

I wasn't going to argue, this was a fairly easy solution aside from the fact that my parents were in the process of moving house and I had no idea what the new address was.

I picked up the form to take it home at which point she grabbed it back off me and said it had to stay there with her.

Yet another confusing and irritating piece of protocol.

I went home, contacted my parents, got the information and submitted back at the kommune.

By the way, if you're going through this, or will be going through this, make sure you name is written on your postbox. Apparently that's a massive thing now in Norway and you may not get important looking letters delivered without it. 

Maybe that's why my D-number letter never arrived, maybe not.

My tax information arrived on the very same day as payroll cut-off at work, so that was actually a little bit of luck there.

Police II

Now that I had a job, tax information and a D-number, I thought I better complete my registration at the police before the 6 month time limit expired. I don't know exactly what they would do after the time limit expired as I'm an EU citizen with every right to be here, but I thought I better get it over with.

I went back on the website and booked myself another appointment. 

Fearing that I may not have all my paperwork in order before traveling to Florø, I called them several times. On Monday, I was told to call on Tuesday between 09:00-14:00. Tuesday at 12:00 I was told that they had gone home early and that I needed to call tomorrow. On Wednesday they said that they don't deal with this sort of thing on a Wednesday.

Fu*k it. I have an appointment and I'll just go down there.

One hour drive back to Florø. When I arrived for my appointment I presented my passport (begrudgingly) and work contract.

She looked me up on the system and told me that I hadn't put in my employer's information on my immigration profile. 

I pointed out that I was never asked for that when booking the appointment and secondly my employer's information is on the piece of paper she has in her hand.

"No. You have to do it yourself online"

"Is there a computer here I can use then"

"No"

"Ok, so I can find an internet cafe in town, fill it in and come straight back"

"No, because your appointment is now"

Scanning around the police station there was all of two people. Her and myself.

"Come on, give me a break. There's nobody else here"

She went on to say that my appointment was on the wrong day. They don't deal with this sort of thing on a Tuesday. 

So that was the real problem. Not the fact I had made a mistake, but that the online system had given me an appointment on the wrong day.

"Yep"

"Ok", I asked. "and when I make another appointment, come back on the right day of the week, who is it I will be meeting with?"

"Oh, that will be me"

"But you can't do it today?"

"No"

"Because today is Tuesday?"
"Right"

Defeated and disheveled I went home to explain the situation to family whom where completely shocked an in awe of the complete and utter incompetence of the people involved in this pointless process. 

Police III

Two weeks later I went back again.

The woman recognised me and greeted me with my name before I said anything. 

She looked at the same papers she did last time. Click her mouse a couple of times and then produced a letter to say I was officially permitted to stay in Norway indefinitely.

What a relief.

I always knew I would be allowed to stay, but I at least didn't have to go back to the police station in Florø anymore

Red tape

Red tape

Money

As our six month "backpacking" tour of New Zealand came to an end, we sold the car and flew to Norway as planned. We were to stay with my girlfriend's family, so we had no immediate money worries (thank god). But I wanted to retrieve the money from my NZ account, so I could be independent and buy food etc as and when I wanted to. 

Off to the bank.

My girlfriend came with me to translate. I didn't want a credit card, overdraft or anything like that. Just somewhere I could transfer my money from NZ and UK. A kid's bank account would have been fine at this stage.

We were asked one question. "Does he have a D-number". No, was the answer. We've just got here. I couldn't open an account of any kind without this number. Something that all Norwegian citizens are given at birth and as such my girlfriend had no idea what we had to do to get one. We were sent to the kommune (a tax/registry office). Off we went.

Kommune

My gf had to go there anyway. Norway likes to keep tabs on where everyone is and since she was returning to Norway after seven years away, she had to complete a form to say she was back. She asked about my D-number. 
"Does he have a job?"
"Not yet, we only arrived this week".
"No job, no need for a D-number" 
Of course we tried to explain that I have funds if only I can have an account to transfer it to.
"Nope. Get a job, otherwise you're still considered a tourist. No D-number".
Fine. Ok. How about registering?
"You have to do that with the local police". He scribbled a web address on a bit of paper and sent us off. 

Politet

Successfully navigating through this website, I booked an appointment to go and see the 'local' police station. Despite the fact we live in Førde, a fairly big town (by Norwegian standards) with it's own police station, we have to go to a different town of similar size and population an hour's drive away, Florø. As we don't have a car, I had to rope in my gf's parents into taking me. No cash for the bus.

I got to the police station in Florø and presented my passport as expected and asked about the D-number. 

"Do you have a job?"

"No, I just got here"

"You can't get a D-number without a job"

Again, I explained that I had enough money to see us through for quite a while and I was being sponsored by my gf's family, if only I can have the D-number to open a bank account.

"Nope. You need a job.......or......you can register as a job seeker at the NAV office in Førde" (NAV = unemployment/benefits etc office).

Struggling to hide my frustration, I conceded.

"Ok." I said. "So you want to register me as living in Norway then? What happens next? What do I need to fill in"

"We don't need to register you until you have a job and a D-number"

A completely wasted journey then.

She was staring at my (UK) passport for about 5 minutes. Then she told me that she hadn't seen one like this before and she had some concerns about it's authenticity and she was going to be keeping it for a while.

Of course, when you're in a situation like this, no amount of frustration or protesting will resolve anything. 

I did point out that I had just literally traveled the world on this passport and surely she had a computer system or something she could use to satisfy her concerns. No.

She would have to wait for a "passport expert" to come a study it and that I could make another two hour round trip to retrieve it again.

Blood pressure was rising at this point. After a little more discussion about this, it turned out that the "passport expert" worked in Førde police station. Yes that's right. The town from which we had come. (!)

I asked if maybe the expert could take my passport home with him to Førde police station after studying it so I wouldn't have to come all the way back again. She agreed.

We left.

NAV

After having my passport confiscated, I couldn't make any more inroads into setting up my life until it was returned to me. But it did eventually. The passport expert had eventually approved it and I was able to pick it up from my local police station.

Off to NAV.

"Hi. I want to register as a job-seeker and apply for a D-number"

"Do you have a job?"

"Errr, no. That's why I want to register as a job seeker"

"Do you have a D-number" 

[are you fu**ing kidding me?]

"No. I don't. That's why i'm here"

"You can't register as a job seeker without a D-number"

Just as I was about to lose my mind completely, she produced a form to apply for a D-number. 

We're getting somewhere!

I filled it in and they sent it off for me. I will be delivered by post within two weeks.

I guess I could call this a success.

NAV II

Three weeks had past and nothing had arrived in the post. I went in to the office and asked about the lack of letter and can they just tell me what my number is?

She asked for my passport. 

I didn't have it. 

They were closing in 20 minutes. I didn't have time to get it.

I would have to come back next week as it was Friday.

Ok, that one was my fault.

NAV III

Ok. Back at NAV hopefully for the last time. I presented my passport and asked for my D-number.

"What is your D-number?"

"I don't know. That's why I'm here"

"You have to send off for it, here, I'll give you a form"

"No, no, no. Perhaps I'm not explaining myself clearly. I've already sent off for it. I'm here to collect it"

"It should have come in the post"

"Yes, I realise it should have. But it hasn't. Do you have it?"

"No, it would have been sent to your house"

<<sigh>>

"Can you please just tell me what the number is please?"

After a little conference with her colleague  and an examination of my passport, she handed me post-it note with a number written on it.

I was my D-number. It felt amazing.

That might be hard for you to understand as it's just a number, but it's what that number means.

You can't do anything in Norway without it.

I was finally considered to be more than just a free-loading tourist.

I was a job seeker living in Norway.

Not a brilliant distinction, but a distinction non the less.

Money II

Smugly presenting my D-number I was quickly signed up with the bank. I was only entitled to a visa electron card. I couldn't use it abroad or online and service charges were hefty, but it didn't matter. I was one step closer to becoming a self-sufficient man again.

Introductions

Lonely, alienated, anxious, unwanted, desperate and worthless.

Just some of the things I've felt in the last few months whilst trying to make a new life for myself in Norway. Far from friends and family. Little money. No car. Dependent on others like an unemployed teenager. Nervous about having to talk to strangers. Sitting awkwardly at family occasions, not understanding anything.

But above all else, I was determined. Adamant that I would succeed in the challenge I had given myself. Supported by my wonderful Norwegian girlfriend, her family, the employer that took a chance on me and my gradually increasing collection of friends and acquaintances.

Lessons have been learnt through failure and research, or a combination of the two.

If I can help just one person intending to come to Norway by writing this blog, it’s been worth it.

Here’s my ongoing story of an English man in Norway.