Leaving Emirates - the final post

Two years ago last week I left Dubai and Emirates (the airline) after 12 years, to come home and help with the launch of V Australia. This series of posts documents the leaving process - partly as my first attempt at a blog (which hopefully someone will find worth reading), partly as an assistance to others in my position. While this blog should provide some amusement, it should also be of assistance if you are leaving soon as well. There will be differences however - a lot of this depends on your years of service, and I'm sure some things have changed - hopefully for the better!

11.May.2008 : Wasting Time

While I had decided today would be the last of organising our stuff in preparation for the move Monday (tomorrow), I had a couple of other things to do first – they should have been quick …

One was to transfer my first Dubai Mobile across to our friend Susi. Many moons ago Meg ran a Breastfeeding Mothers and Babies coffee morning. This eventually morphed into a Breastfeeding Support Phone Line, with about a dozen volunteers who manned the phone in turn, and eventually we had a Breast Pump Hire Service, which is still in operation today.

In any case, my original mobile of 050 6588905 went from Me to Meg, to the Breastfeeding Support Line, to the number for the Pump Hire Service – where it is today. Since I’m leaving I wanted to transfer the number to Susi who now runs the service. I dropped into the Etisalat office at EGHQ, asking as many questions as I could, to make sure it would be a smooth process.

And so Susi and I rolled up at 8am this morning at the Etisalat Office, Defence Roundabout, to transfer the number from me to her. After several goes at the form, some waiting, moving to another counter, some waiting, the beginning of the processing – she can’t take over the phone because it’s post-paid and no-one who is not on an employment visa can have a post-paid phone. I did specifically ask that question at the EGHQ Etisalat office – that’s strike two for them.

Dubai Clock Tower Roundabout.

For the better part of the last 20 years Dubai has consisted of major roundabouts named for their proximity to geographical or ornamental objects. Defence roundabout, near a major UAE defence installation. Budgie Roundabout – with a squashed looking falcon statue in the middle. Fish Roundabout – a fish statue in the middle. Clock tower roundabout – a big three legged structure with a clock in the middle. Many of the naming causes are gone – Defence installation, Flame Fountain, Budgie/Falcon – and in many cases the roundabouts aren’t there anymore either. And yet they’re still called their original names, at least until they’re re-named colloquially anyway. What are they going to call Defence roundabout now? Disaster Area Roundabout? Have you seen it lately?

So while I was there, I decided it was a good time to cancel my personal mobile, which has roaming and therefore a 5,000 deposit against it, guaranteed by the company. I was previously told that I had to cancel it, then ensure a certificate was sent to Emirates and that would release my salary. I had also previously been told I would have to go to Deira, but I thought it was worth checking.

I checked, speaking with great difficulty in the best pidgin English against my quite frankly disgraceful lack of Arabic - No, I had to go to Deira, cancel the line, then go out to the back office there and collect my certificate. Oh Well.

So I decided to make a morning of it. I headed into EGHQ, hoping that the family passports were ready for collection. I spent the entire drive in on hold to Visa Services, hoping to find someone who could tell me if they were ready or not. All my old direct numbers to people like Kurshid were useless in the new HQ building. As I pulled into the EGHQ car park, I was about to leave a voice mail message for Magda (who helped me get the original visa’s 12 years ago, I might add) when I realised there was no point. I was there.

I went in and collected a ticket line number for Visa Services – 15 numbers to go. I also grabbed a couple of e-tickets for Meg. There’s a function sponsored by EPI and EPC (Ek Pilot’s Club) for new comers and leavers, and Brett Carnell asked me to come along. Meg’s decided to take advantage of the fact that I’ll be stuck here on 7 days off waiting for my visa to cancel and pay to come through, and come across for the 25th for one last hoorah. Naturally this meant a MEL-PER ticket because MEL-DXB Loads are full. We have an unused SRC firm ticket for Meg DXB-MEL which expires in a couple of months, so somehow this crazy plan seems to make sense. Of course it meant ordering the tickets, then going in and paying cash and collecting them – because I’m in my notice period and therefore a Flight Risk.

So while waiting for Visa Services, I went and ordered and paid for the Staff Travel tickets. That was easy enough. Then up came my number for family visa cancellation. Except I actually needed Passport Collection, a different window, a different number, another 15 numbers to get through. I went to Costa’s for a coffee. Eventually I got the passports, and then went down to Fedex to send the passports and tickets to Geelong. That process at least was a smooth one, and I met someone I hadn’t seen for years who used to work in Flight Ops. Great memories.

Round and Round and Round he goes. Where he stops, nobody else cares.

Roll On, Etisalat.

Next stop, Etisalat Deira. I was steeling myself for this, so much so that I didn’t think ahead. You know that bloody mindedness you get when approaching a difficult task with a singular lack of enthusiasm – so much so that you lose your critical thinking skills in spades? Well that was me today. Had I thought about it, I would have left the car at EGHQ and caught a taxi. EGHQ to Etisalat is about 5 minutes on a good day. But no, I drove myself. After 55 fruitless minutes driving round and round and round looking for a park, I managed to edge out a 95 year old lady for a spot (only a minor exaggeration).

A brisk walk and into the main office of Etisalat. Those of use who have been here a while will remember when you had to go in there each month to drop a cheque into a box to pay your phone bill. I’m not kidding. Those who remember that – boy that office has changed. The foyer is pretty much the same, but the rest is very swish-o I can tell you.

The cancellation was easy – it took me about 25 minutes beginning to end. Then I was told to go round the back of counter 6 and into the back office. There I got to meet Mr. Sabri, whom I’d spoke to earlier this morning.

When I explained why I was there, he gave me an earful, basically telling me that I did not have to come down to the Deira office at all. I could have cancelled the mobile anywhere in the UAE – including the Defence Roundabout office this morning. Having done that, it was then Emirates’ responsibility to get in contact with him – and he would send the clearance letter to them. I played the dumb-expat-doing-as-I-was-told role (which wasn’t hard in this instance) and he called EK HR, told them to send him the request, and offered me a cup of tea. He said he had lots of Emirates employees coming round for no reason – didn’t they realise how hard it was to find a park these days?

I realised after I’d left that this was what he had been trying to tell me during our phone call earlier - but the language barrier had defeated us achieving that level of communication.

Next stop was the office of Allied Pickfords. I figured this visit would at least be easy and straight forwards. Finish the paperwork, sign the insurance forms, hand over lots of money, go on with my life. Boy was I in for a mindset change.

I had been told repeatedly that since they were one of the better movers, I would not need inventory insurance, which was very expensive. What I needed was shipment insurance, which was not. So if a plate came out of a box broken, I would not need to go through a complicated claim process, as I would not be getting any money back anyway. However if the ship sank, I would get lots of money. This seemed straight forward and logical to me. For the life of me now though, I can’t say why.

But it turns out, based on the estimated value of our goods, the shipment insurance was going to cost not quite half as much again as the inventory insurance. Shipment insurance was simple – there’s a minimum amount you must insure to, calculated as 10,000 Dhs per Cubic Meter. That meant we had to insure to a shipment value of at least 240,000 Dhs, at an industry standard rate of 4%.

Inventory insurance on the other hand required a list of all items to be insured with replacement values at destination, plus extra for electrical goods that you want to have working (rather than just physically present) at the other end, plus more insurance to ensure your goods arrive without mould and mildew, plus more insurance if you want the money back you paid to ship the goods if the ship sinks (as well as the insurance claim), plus extra for any paired items, plus, plus, plus. And when she crunched the numbers – Inventory insurance was cheaper. Waaaay cheaper. I gave up trying to understand. So 11,000 dhs later, I’m back on the street and headed for my house to start a day’s packing. It’s 3pm, and I’m well behind – I need to pack.

10.May.2008 : All Sold

The last of the second hands goods sold was picked up today. I forgot to mention previously that I came across a Pakistani guy who owns his own truck and has a friend. They travel around from place to place it would seem, doing odd moving jobs. His name is Yacob and the number is 050 698 1085. He caters mainly to expats, which means he is probably not the cheapest, but he is reliable, speaks goodly english and can take directions. I would be careful with them moving heavy furniture around corners etc, but in the main he was good value – I used him twice and suggested him several times to those picking up stuff who used him without incident – including to places like Mirdiff, Arabian Ranches and DSO.

Now it’s a matter of finishing off the organisation that Meg has mostly done before she left. I needs everything to either be (a) going with me to Morag and Dirk’s house (where I’ll be staying after I move out) and therefore going into a suitcase on the 30th; (b) going down in my 100Kg ID90 freight shipment; (c) going down to Geelong, into storage because we can’t fit it; and (d) going to the house in Geelong. It’s coming along – Sunday should see it done.

Next Week : Moving Day. Allied Pickfords arrive to pack up my goods and chattels. I wonder if I’ll even see them again. Or care. At this point a ships-has-sunk payout is looking good.