The Decision to leave Britain
One fine week in late October of 2006, on five successive days I was caused to upbraid students for some loutish behaviour. Whether this was chewing gum in school, or pushing smaller people around or the umpteenth occasion of telling the same child to tuck its shirt in, find a tie, fasten said tie or even make space for others in a corridor, does not matter. The distinction that this week provided was that on each of five successive teaching days the last comment from the pupil was, basically,”what’s your problem?”. Once, I might take as cheek: five of them, from unrelated incidents and kids in different years, I take with credibility and begin to wonder if I do have a problem.
So in the middle of November I write to the new Head, indicating my unhappiness with teaching in Plymouth. Realistically, with teaching in Britain; there is no getting away from the fact that independent school is a privileged society. I give him notice of intent to quit; indirect, I know, but an accurate description, hoping that perhaps he might indicate changes ahead that would keep me on the staff.
On the last day of the Christmas term we all receive letters explaining that there need to be some redundancies in the teaching staff and asking those willing to consider this to please put themselves forwards. My response is immediate. I have seen forced redundancy in effect and the result is not uncommonly that the recipient is given such a blow to their confidence they do not work again. A vow taken at Shiplake demands that I offer myself – and it may well solve my issues with teaching.
I photographed the letter, going back home for the camera, when I found a copy left in the middle of the empty Common Room late the evening of the day it was received. On the table were some unfinished biscuits and a potted plant that was someone’s present, as if the letter had prompted abandonment of the room. I moved nothing to take the shot .
I spend late January and the first half of February looking for jobs. I look for teaching jobs abroad only because it is the right time of year for the adverts. I look at English-speaking jobs in any part of the world. Effectively I shall be retiring – my financial advisor keeps on saying I could do that – so any income will avoid expense and I am keen to ascertain the extent of my wanderlust and my capacity to live outside the UK.
Eight to twelve weeks from the first notice we (the Head & I) have agreed that the school can lose a mathematician permanently (I’ll have them in court otherwise), we have agreed on a sum less than I want and more than the school wants and I find myself very comfortable with the decision. My colleagues who only thought and dithered now realise that I really am going. The news slowly percolates through the school and by the last six weeks everyone knows I am going, and going happily.
I am emailed by a company in China, and a telephone interview ensues, resulting in an offer. The second interview raises the stakes (the position rose to boss status) and confirms my commitment. At Easter, instead of going tripping around Europe, I think it wise to go have a look at what I am letting myself in for, and this proves a wise decision. I pay the flight fare and the company pays all the hotel bills, makes me feel very welcome and spends large amounts of time showing me around the school, informing me about their ethos and objectives. I spend most of a week at the school, which is still in term, and go round listening to people in a way reminiscent of my days as a management consultant. Several issues come to light and some result in suggestions that are grasped with an embarrassing enthusiasm. One such is the chronic shortage of textbooks.
So, having decided to change countries, there are then choices to make over property. Another essay deals with the detail of this.
Removals
The paucity of textbooks in China, followed by an offer to clear out the ‘old’ ones from Plymouth, puts me in a situation where I may as well use the move of books to excuse moving lock, stock and barrel to China. I contact six removal companies over the internet. Only one replies, a Crown International. I know that what counts as a big firm in Britain is small fry internationally and it appears that Crown is a fairly large player.
A representative comes to visit on a day with inoculations booked. The three-hour gap should be enough, but he is caught by Glastonbury traffic and arrives late. Late enough that I need to go have the jabs before we have really finished. I offer him the opportunity to stay and complete his schedule more slowly – I will only be twenty minutes – but he declines and I chase him away feeling we have probably said enough but I wanted time to think of new things to make clear. I was quite certain I had explained my objective, to have my stuff in China shortly after arriving there on 1st August, that therefore time was of the essence. He leaves me a pile of paper that tells me little I didn’t already know, but it is good confirmation that they know their business.
I have to chase Crown repeatedly to set a date for removing my gear and we reach a point where they suddenly grasp what I have been saying and the stuff disappears on June 18th, a week after them telling me. The gap between the first visit and the removal is of the order of six weeks. I am thinking the boat will take six weeks and so 18/6/7 for gear to leave Plymouth is about as late as it could be. I end up asking whether they think the stuff is leaving Plymouth on August 1st and it may be that the message was garbled. If so, that was entirely internal. My emails were very clear and unambiguous.
So I have six weeks left in Britain with the gear that has not “gone on the boat”. This takes planning and I don’t have it entirely right. I then discover the tiny amount of permitted luggage is 22kg and spend the last days of July sending the surplus by air freight for £200, which works out as ‘only’ twice the sea freight rate. This arrives in four days and I collect it from the company office on arrival in Xi’an. The cost of the sea freight works out that, despite original message to the contrary, the cheapest way will be for me to book a whole container (if I had known this I could have arranged a sharing with a fellow new colleague). As such I may as well do my best to fill it, so everything but the car becomes liable for packing. I now know I should have been more literal with that interpretation and even packed bedding and furniture. Once committed to a container, the volume has little effect on the price.
We are looking at £4000. This is payable up front (not clear at the outset and a point of contention, but they now have my stuff and I feel conned). The insurance rate is 4% of the value. While that comes to another £1000, my thinking is that 4% suggests there are many claims and grounds for such claims, so I want to insure my goods. I am also thinking that if I had known this earlier, I might not be doing this at all. Allow another £1000 to cover import duty, definitely not understood, and we have a £6000 hole in the accounts.
August goes by, and I am now resident in China. It becomes clearer that the Import permit is an obstacle and I have written about that separately. However, communication between my office (Petal) and the Crown Beijing office (Cynthia) is pretty good and we fulfil our promises in making the paper appear rapidly. It then transpires that my gear is still in Britain. Cynthia asks me to fire shots across bows for supply of official paper, sent and responded with alacrity, but I cannot understand how it is that the goods have not been in transit. I was very clear about the required arrival. I was clear in understanding that the transit time was the time in which the Import Licence must be produced and clear that this length of time was acceptable and manageable. The only helpful and effective member of staff at Crown in Britain (besides the two removal men themselves) goes away, perhaps for the school holidays. At the end of September I am in a situation where I have now been three months with what I guessed would be appropriate for a new country for at worst two weeks. Half my shirts are still too warm for the weather here and I have three sets of clothes. I have no textbooks with which to carry out my job, too little computing power and no furniture.
Crown has failed to deliver, failed to communicate, taken no regard for promises made and largely kept me uninformed. The poor girl at the Beijing end is left trying to patch things up and let down at every turn by the UK end. This is not a company with whom one wants to do business. Yet, among the ex-patriot community, it is agreed that Crown is one of the biggest players.
I am deeply unimpressed.
I have since discovered that just a little more communication within our new staff across China would have saved several of us half my cost and we could have co-operated to reduce costs to a point where the company would pay for removal, simply by providing a single container among many of us. As it is, I am significantly out of pocket and the value of the books that were the point of the removal is fast disappearing as the term progresses. Time was of the essence of the contract. The information was not wrong but the promises were and are unfulfilled. I cannot see how I could have been clearer without the assistance of clairvoyance, and Clair is not known to me.
DJS Typed around 200711
Related stories: Wine to Water Moving Four letter Words.
Do not use Crown Relocations. or don’t use them without learning from my experience and applying that knowledge to extract promises you can then act upon.
Photo added 20100824, at last found.