Cash Flow or Po-Po?

7.07.2008

So as some of you know, or don't know, we've been kinda, sorta hiding from the Chinese Po-Po.

Due to tight security leading up to the Olympics, many foreigners are having trouble with keeping their visas secured and their residences registered, present company included. Our lovely landlord jumped on the "I Wanna Profit From the Olympics" Bandwagon and decided to up our rent, despite the already signed contract which is good until December. We argued with the landlord about this. Not directly, of course, because nothing in this country is direct, and we don't speak the language. To argue "with" our landlord, we called Sho who called her uncle who called the rental agency who called the landlord. With a chain this complicated, this has dragged on for a long while. Meanwhile, our temporary residence registration has expired. Normally we could lay low until this has been taken care of, but with our ex-company desperately seeking revenge on Collin for quitting, the police have been hot on our trail.

We sought refuge in the homes of friends for awhile, but with the end to all of this seemingly near and no actual sign of the police yet, we decided we'd move back home and live quietly. If the doorbell rang, we simply wouldn't answer. There are no windows in the front of our place and no way to tell if we are home or not. Only about 3 people know where we live, so it would be easy to tell if we had a valid visitor or not. Usually. Enter the twist.

A few weeks ago I got a random assignment to proofread a document for a company I interviewed with. It took me about 30 minutes and they promised to pay me 250 RMB (~$35 ) for my time. Not too shabby. I was a bit skeptical I would actually receive this money, but if I didn't I only lost 30 minutes of my life. I took the risk. I was told an express mail service would deliver the cash to my address. I didn't know if this meant to my door or my mailbox. I assumed the latter, but realized in the coming days that I don't even know where our mailbox is. I figured there was 250 yuan chilling in a box somewhere that I would never get my hands on. I was given the name of the express service and a confirmation number, but again, I don't speak the language so I had no way of finding out how/when/where this money could be expected.

Last Monday night, around 9 pm, our doorbell rang. Collin and I were both home. We exchanged panicked faces. "Are you expecting anyone?" Collin asked.

"Sho is coming over, but not for awhile..." I replied.

"The police?"

"Must be."

With no windows or even a peephole in our door, we had no way to see who was out there. I quickly texted the three people who might actually stop by; all confirmed is was indeed not them at our door. We sat in silence until the doorbell stopped.

Later that night, Sho came by. As we took my building's elevator down, our elevator lady asked her something. When we exited, she translated: "She asked me if you guys are registered because the cops came by looking for you."

Yikes. Good thing we didn't answer.

Wednesday night. 8:55 PM. I receive a text message from Collin: "Doorbell was ringing again just now. Be careful when you come home."

I hung out a little while longer at work before carefully returning to my apartment. When I came in, we discussed our stressful situation. "Maybe it's the delivery guy with my money?" I offer optimistically.

"At 9 o'clock at night? Doubtful. But I dunno. This is China."

So it came down to this: the person ringing the doorbell was either the po-po or my cash flow, but without a peephole, I'd never know.

Go ahead and open Door #1! It's either 250 RMB or a quick trip to the police station! Hmm, I'm going to go ahead with the option behind Door #2: losing 30 minutes of my life.

Saturday night. 11:05 PM. Collin and I are about to leave to go to a house party. We are seconds from taking off-- I'm standing with purse in hand. Doorbell rings. And rings. And rings. "Maybe it's my money?" I offer again. I still don't even know at this point if it will be delivered to our door or our mailbox.

"At 11 at night? No way," Collin says. He's probably right.

We lay low until 11:35, before sneaking down the stairwell and leaving the house. We really can't live like this.

Monday morning. 10:00 AM. I receive a text message from the company: "Please advise a good time for the delivery. They have tried reaching you at home several times." I forward the text to Collin, and we have a good laugh about it. We still have no idea who has been ringing our doorbell. Maybe it's been the cops half the time and the money half the time.

I gave the company a window of time today: 1 PM to 5:30 PM. I figure if the doorbell rings in that time period, I have a slightly better chance of getting cold, hard cash rather than cold, hard time.

Today. 2:10 PM. Doorbell rings. I'm wearing my "I <3 China" t-shirt. (I figure the cops might go a little easier on me if I'm wearing this attire). I slowly open the door and peer out of our gate, my heart pounding so hard in my chest I can swear the screen printed heart is moving as well. I peer out and see. . .




A young delivery boy. "Ni hao!" I want to kiss him. He hands me an envelope with my name on it. I sign a paper. I bring it in. I rip it open. There is the 250 RMB neatly clipped with a small note:

Such a simple note. If only they had any idea of the true complexity behind it. The panic, the fear, the anxiety-- and now the humor--that was involved in getting that little envelope with that little note and that little money delivered.

I'm trying to decide how to use the money now. I'm thinking of a few options: Treat Collin and I to a nice relaxing massage for anxiety relief... Get it framed and hang it above our door for comic relief...

I've got it! I'm going to install a peephole in our door.

-T