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Reality can be harsh. And in the past couple of days, I've learned that for reimbursement purposes, the government doesn't think much of me. I've always had my suspicions - hell, it is kind of the basis of this blog - but I found out exactly how the government views Extra Filing Management (EFM) - 75%.
Beginning with the black-hole period between June 30 (pack-out) and July 9 (exodus day), we will be existing in a state of purgatory sans a home. During this time, the government will be boarding us (thanks, taxpayers!) based on a rate in which Natalie counts as a whole person, and I count as 75% of a person.
And as an extra slap in the face, on July 1, the government will be reducing this per-diem reimbursement significantly. So June 30 will be a good day for us financially, but the remaining week or so will be a little bit tighter.
This is as good of a time as any other, I suppose, to point out the errors in the government's per diem philosophy. It is so faulty, in fact, that the government actually agrees with me.
When we check out of our hotel and start driving on July 9, the reimbursement/per diem policy changes.
In D.C., we get a lump sum per diem that covers food and shelter, which is determined on the rate that Natalie is a whole person and I'm only 75% of her. This is known as the predeparture subsistence expenses allowance, which is a piece of the greater foreign transfer allowance.
But as soon as we started heading in the direction of Hermosillo, we get switched to a second reimbursement rate, or as I like to call it, the one that actually makes sense. This is supposed to be covered in the Department of State Standardized Regulations (DSSR) section 925, but it isn't done very well, if at all. I'm not too sure what I'm reading in that section as the one thing worse than the government's use of acronyms is its use of jargon.
Instead of charging taxpayers for unknown lodging expenses, we have to keep hotel receipts and get reimbursed for actual expenditures. And then we also get a food per diem in which Natalie is a whole person and I get to eat 75% of what she eats. Though, when it comes to eating, Natalie is more like 25% of a person and I'm more in the range of 100% to 125%.
Fortunately, I'm older than 12, or I wouldn't count as a person. And, in the same vein, it is beneficial that we don't have any children. Anyone older than 12 after the first 75% of a person only counts as 50% of a person.
Apparently there has been some sort of housing bubble burst the past couple of years.
We haven't been property owners, land hunters, homeowners, etc., so other than noticing a few more "For Sale" signs during Tiffy's excretion expeditions, and a lot of news coverage, the housing market has not affected us.
That kind of changed yesterday. We received a notice from Charles E. Smith's henchmen stating there is a situation with our lease for which we need to meet with someone in management to discuss.
So we go down to the lobby and meet with a manger fresh out of college who also was visibly nervous. We go into an office, and he starts into an explanation that there is going to be a significant rent bump for us when our lease ends and it is because more people are moving into apartments to get out of the housing market, etc.
He was flushed; he was struggling with his words and computer program has he was looking for the data pertinent to our lease. So I nudge Natalie to tell her to put an end to this and tell him we're leaving anyway. Natalie, the sadist, was content to watch him squirm a little longer. I think he was relieved to find out we didn't really care about the rent increase.
We have been fortunate in that our lease is scheduled to end right about the same time we are suppose to move. Obviously, I didn't plan this out because it never would have worked this well. And if Natalie were to come up short of scoring a 3/3 on her Spanish exam and we need to stay a month longer, the Smith henchman agreed to keep our current rent rate in tact for us.
So what would the damage have been if we were not in the foreign service? Well, we probably would have commenced a search for a new apartment. They were going to up our rate by $300 per month ($400 for a new resident). Taking utilities into account, we would have been paying in the neighborhood of $2,000 per month for a one-bedroom, 1,800ish sq. ft. apartment in Crystal City.
To put this into perspective, that is about $48k per year for shelter. That is a salary, or more, for many people! Before I moved to D.C., I was renting a trailer in southeast Ohio, with two bedrooms, one bath and a large kitchen, for $365 per month.
Suddenly a free house in Hermosillo, or anywhere in the world for that matter, is very appealing (thank you, taxpayers!).
Recently there have been a couple of threads in a private Yahoo! Group about what kind of information should or should not be included in a blog about life as an FSO (either a Frightened and Suspicious Oversea'er or Fearlessly Serving Overseas, depending on the FSO) or spouse.
Obviously, I lean toward including everything, including first names, with one exception. That is, I will not include the names of any other FSOs, EFMs, MOHs or another government acronym without getting permission. Everyone is entitled to privacy, until they start blogging in public.
There also were comments made about being discrete about what the government provides its foreign service employees and families courtesy of tax payers.
Once again, obviously I don't agree with this advice. American citizens ought to know how their tax dollars are being spent. I cannot see a single downside to sharing information about use of tax dollars, and I welcome anyone to dissuade me otherwise.
But at the heart of many of the postings in these threads was why people post blogs anyway.
Many indicated they were doing so in lieu of filling friends' and family mailboxes with e-mail updates. Because it was for their eyes only, they would slap a password on the blog to keep it out of the public's hands.
I did send my link to my friends and family with a similar message that I will not being doing the mass e-mail thing and if they really want to know what is going on, then stop by my blog.
But instead of limiting my drivel to people I know, I decided to open my experiences to others. And so far, I'm glad that I have.
For one, I've been able to interact (on a limited basis) with others in a similar position as myself. It is nice to know others have gone through this already and turned out somewhat normal.
Also, I know that some readers have been directed to this blog by searching for terms related to being an eligible family member. I can't imagine they walked away with much at this point, but I hope potential or recent EFMs will find this blog once I'm able to start sharing overseas experiences.
Pretty much the only EFM the uninitiated have to relate to, especially since there has been a recent movie, is Julia Child. I'm going to go out on a limb and say that many EFMs do not have a similar experience of becoming a wildly successful chef and live in Paris.
So the reason I blog, other than for vanity, is to try to be helpful. And I imagine that is why others blog publicly as well. Yes, we need to take some precautions when we are living abroad to not share too much personal information about where we live, and using a little tact (not that I do) doesn't hurt, but otherwise, type away bloggers!
This morning, Feb. 4, one of Washington’s favorite Chinese diplomats is flying to Chengdu.
Natalie and I are quite familiar with this diplomat, so on Saturday, we went to the National Zoo to say our goodbyes to Tai Shan, the 4.5-year-old giant panda. (And let me just say, I’m slightly perturbed a panda has its own Wikipedia entry, and I don’t.)
I first moved to D.C. in July 2005 about one mile from the zoo. Because it is free to visit (thank you, taxpayers!), and I love zoos, I used to go there at least once per month. The most popular exhibit at the time (and probably remained so all the way up to today), was the newborn Tai Shan.
We’ve kind have had paralleled existences in D.C. Within days of my moving here, he was born. In accordance with Chinese panda diplomacy, Tai Shan was supposed to leave when he turned two years of age in 2007. At about that same time, Natalie and I moved from D.C. to Crystal City.
And now in 2010, Tai Shan is leaving the US of A a few months before I do the same.
I’ve watched the bear cub mature and was glad to have the opportunity to see him one last time over the weekend. And now he is off to the panda equivalent of a stud farm on a panda preserve in China. Too bad that is where our paralleled universes come to an end.
(By the way, for some yucks, check out Stephen Colbert’s wikialtiy page on pandas. And how is it that I’ve never heard of this site until I was doing some research on pandas? I don’t watch the Colbert Report on a daily basis, but I’ve seen it enough that I think I should have been aware of this site.)
So I leave you with two of our photos of Tai Shan. The first one is from his earliest days; unfortunately, we didn’t date that photo so I can’t say for sure when it was from. Based on the clues in the photo, I'd say early October 2005. In the second one, he is munching on some bamboo during his farewell party – cut short by the “snowstorm” on Saturday.
Rosetta Stone. My Spanish lifeline, yet also my biggest hurdle.
For the uninitiated, part of the FSO training regimen involves necessary language training. So the government (thanks, taxpayers!) provides intensive language courses that essentially become the forever-studying-for-overseas' (FSO’s) fulltime job.
Kindly enough, the government (thanks again, taxpayers!) also opens the door to us, eagers-for-mastering (EFMs) a foreign language, if space permits. Of course, the other qualification is if the family’s economic situation permits.
But as I have to work 40-hour weeks to pay the bills, the government (really, taxpayers, you are outdoing yourselves!) provides an online version of the Rosetta Stone for spouses unable to give up their jobs and attend classes.
In the early going, I was a big fan. I still remain relatively impressed with the program, but it suffers from a huge drawback. No English. I hope I’m not giving away too many secrets, but the program works by using images and matching the images to the Spanish words. Up until my specific gripe, which is coming shortly, I’ve actually preferred this method because the pictures are more memorable than an English translation.
But the problem arises when the lessons get more complex, and they are trying to describe a verb that doesn’t really provide an action. The first encounter was the verb tener, “to have.” After a few images, I was able to piece that one together, but how do you illustrated someone having something?
Now, I’m only up to the second chapter, and I’ve reached a sticking point. The offending sentence: Yo quiero a mi padre. And several variations with third person subjects like: El nino quiere a su perro. And then the corresponding pictures show either a person hugging his/her father or a boy hugging his dog, etc.
As we all remember from Taco Bell commercials, when a chihuahua says “Yo quiero Taco Bell,” it means it wants Taco Bell. But we’ve never heard that dog utter “Yo quiero a Taco Bell.” What does that “a” mean? How does it affect the verb, querer?
The best of I’ve gathered is that it means “love,” but heaven forbid Rosetta Stone from providing a glossary of terms to address any confusion for their images’ inadequacies. So if anyone speaks Spanish, could you please help me with this translation?
First, a quick thank you and welcome to the inaugural posting of Ef’m.
Before I delve too much into the back story of why I’m here, let me quickly explain that I’m a late technology adapter. It wasn’t until 2005 that I finally signed off on this whole DVD thing (though I’m still not entirely sure it bests VHS cassettes considering the whole susceptibility to scratches aspect) and I remain strongly opposed to creating an online networking account (read as Facebook, LinkedIn, etc.). This is my first blog post, and I’ve been dragged in kicking and screaming to some degree.
Reminding you once again of my penchant as a late-adapter, this blog really is about a year and a half behind in events, so let’s get up to speed.
During the summer of 2008, my wife, Natalie, casually informed me she wants to apply to be a foreign service officer (FSO--the acronyms begin), which means we will be living all over the world, and it is a very long application process that could take years. I gave my blessing and file that thought away in my soon-to-be-dismissed section of my memory bank.
Long story short, she passes every test on her first go around (good job, honey!) and miraculously squeaks her way into the 148th A-100 class. For the uninitiated, an A-100 class is group of any number (seems to between 75 and 100 these days) of approved FSO applicants that will complete the six-week introductory training course before moving onto their specializations. There are several A-100 classes every year.
Somewhere in that process, Natalie becomes an FSO, and I became an eligible family member (EFM). Yuck! Where did the government get the right to turn me into an acronym—and a lame one at that?
Even FSO is a bit acrid, so I’ve re-acronized the government’s distasteful acronyms. These are a little more flexible and can change with the moods. Most often, FSO now means fervent significant other, but the “F” can be upgraded to favorable, fantastic, or fabulous; or it can be downgraded to fascist, fastidious, or when I’m really angry, fatuous.
But what to call myself and others in my position? This was more difficult, because it risks following into the same trap the government did—generalizing us into a group, and in essence, marginalizing us. So generically, I’m fine with efficient familial manager, but like with FSO, I’m sure Natalie will have different EFMs for me such as exhaustive, fat malcontent, or extremely flexible mainstay, depending on how supportive I’m being at the time.
The key, I suppose, is to not let the government dictate too much as to what we are supposed to be. Yeah, I understand for legal purposes, they need some generic terms to cover who gets to travel on the taxpayers’ dime (thanks taxpayers!), but I’m not some generic EFM. So, I say ef’m.
