Feeling the Fool

Moving inevitably brings those fish out of water moments, those times when everyone seems to know the correct action that you simply can not intuit.  We study the songs at a new church for a few weeks until we begin to recognize them.  We watch whether or not people bus their own tables in the cafeteria, and where they go to do it.  We spy on other tables to see if they leave tips.  These add to the adventure of moving, especially in a foreign country.  Of course things will be different.  Of course.

Our air conditioners have not worked since we arrived.  It seems likely that they worked when Dave arrived, but they have not worked since the rest of us arrived over a week ago.  We are in Mumbai during the monsoon season.  The temperatures have been in the middle to lower eighties with  humidity in the upper 80s and the chance of rain hovering around 97% most of the time.  We live near enough to the water that we frequently have a strong sea breeze swirling around our building and battering our doors and windows, but the mosquitoes carry malaria and so we live with our windows and door shut.

We really did not know that the air conditioners weren't working.  The units were operating in the appropriate rooms, blowing air that didn't feel particularly cold, but didn't feel hot, either.  We had each unit set to 25, which is a comfortable but not chilly 77 degrees.  It seemed possible that the aircon was breathing at room temperature.  It seemed possible that the aircon was breathing at room temperature and that most people were perpetually sweating in their homes.  This is India during the monsoon - what did we expect?

It was a great relief, then, when our housekeeper pointed out that standing before an a/c unit felt no different than standing underneath a ceiling fan.  They are both simply moving around the air in the house.  Neither actually cools the air. 

Dave submitted the work order this morning and some dude with filthy bare feet and smart casual clothes appeared at the door and then disappeared into the apartment.  He stayed for a few hours and never once spoke to me.  While he was here, other workers came and went to address other problems in the house.  They all spoke Hindi and none of them spoke to me.  They all spoke with our housekeeper, who frequently asked my opinion - of which I had none.  I felt thankful for her, but also overwhelmed.  How to manage this well?

With all of these people whirling around me, I received an email from HR.  I recently applied for a position at the consulate.  It is a low level position, a bit of a glorified secretary, and I am  overqualified.  So when the email chastised me for not attaching my transcripts, I felt foolish.  And when I attached my transcript from my Masters degree for this position requiring two years of post-high school education, I felt even more foolish.  I sent in the transcripts and then went into the bathroom for a quick cry.

I've realized today that I've dropped a few other things as well.  Moving is hard, and international moves over a series of months with a family of five are logistically challenging.  That I would miss a few things is inevitable, but feels no less foolish for its inevitability.  Each slip up costs something, and sometimes they cost a lot of money. 

The air conditioning seems to be working well tonight.  The dude with the dirty feet seems to have been a legitimate HVAC repairman and I expect to sleep well tonight.  I'm feeling a pleasant sense of accomplishment over that one.  We also seem on the right track for plugging in our microwave, painting some of the walls, and getting our television to work.  Chalk these up as wins for my team as well. 

If only I knew why power just went out in the living room, I'd be feeling pretty good.