I still remember those emotions when I first arrived in Sydney, Australia: excitement, adventure, wonder, gratification, uncertainty…

Here I was, settling in the most iconic city in the Southern Hemisphere — thousands of miles from home — christening a new start and a new chapter in the novel of life.

I spent the last seven months on the humid island of Taiwan, learning Mandarin, enjoying their culture, and working as a part-time English teacher. But it wasn’t for me — by February, I knew I had to leave. And with nowhere else to turn, I reignited my interest in finance and planned my return to the West.

I hunted for jobs with a passion I hadn’t felt in years. I lived in coffee shops, searching online for hours and hours (unless I was interrupted by a pretty girl or something); I endlessly revised my resume, chasing that elusiveness of perfection; and I sent email after email, cover letter after cover letter, and application after application. Over time, it helped me rediscover why I majored in Economics and why I wanted to work in finance in the first place.

One afternoon, I emailed an investment bank that took interest in me, based in Sydney. It was the opportunity of a lifetime — work at an investment bank AND travel to Australia. (I was drooling.) Their plan was simple: beginning mid-April, I would intern for three months unpaid and, if I performed well, they agreed to sponsor a Subclass 457 work visa and grant me a full-time position.

I took some time to think, but finally agreed to travel down under and slave to reach my goals. I just couldn’t skip the chance to get that dream.

New Beginnings in Australia

Seventeen hours and two timezones later, I arrived in Sydney ecstatic and spent the next few days preparing for work and reuniting with old Australian friends. For the entire internship, I stayed with a close friend from college. And although it was hard to leave some great friends behind in Taipei, I knew, somehow, we’d meet again:

“Even though we’ve changed and we’re all finding our own place in the world, we all know that when the tears fall or the smile spreads across our face, we’ll come to each other because no matter where this crazy world takes us, nothing will ever change so much to the point where we’re not all still friends.”
-Anonymous

I trekked to the Central Business District the following Monday morning, gazing at the twists of steel and concrete above. Armed with a new suit, pocket square, and a slick haircut, I marched towards Chifley Tower, ready to battle and win. I admired the marble halls of the lobby as I walked in, found an elevator, and exited at the twenty-ninth floor foyer.

The view was breathtaking: stretching from the Oprea House, the Royal Botanical Gardens, all the way to the Eastern Suburbs, Sydney was clear and bright — I could almost see the edge of the Earth. I waited excitedly on one of the couches when an employee came and told me the office was actually in a different location.

I never went to Chifley Tower again.

This employee — younger than me and also an intern — led me through the streets of Sydney until we reached a tiny office near Circular Quay. Stepping through the glass doors, the company of four employees greeted me with a Vietnam-War-version of a Hero’s Welcome: silence, awkward stares, and deep mistrust. Worse, my coworkers were impolite and impersonal to each other.

That was Monday.

On Tuesday, I came to work and met the company’s newest intern — who began that day — and an American girl had already interned for a few months (and was a bitch to everyone). The situation was becoming more bizarre: the company had four full-time employees and four interns. As for my duties and responsibilities, I had none; the manager gave me very useless tasks and I finished them before lunch.

I remember mentioning to another coworker my frustration over how the company misrepresented itself on their website. “Don’t be mislead by the website,” he said in a dejected tone. “It got me, too.”

Fortunately, the week ended early for Good Friday, Easter, and ANZAC Day. (God bless Australia.) During that long weekend, the company had planned to transition to a new office, and I hoped for some encouraging signs.

– “What Goes Up Must Come Down” –

Late-Thursday night, I opened an email from my manager and stopped cold:

Because of the small size of the new office, there was no physical space for me. I could no longer work with the company, effective May 5th.

I hadn’t worked an entire business week, and they already squeezed me out. I was pissed and, honestly, embarrassed. The following Tuesday, I told my situation to a coworker (the one disappointed about the website).
“Have you started looking for other jobs?” he asked.
“No, I was really dedicated on working here,” I said.
“But they said there’s no room for you, right?”
“Yeah…?”
“I’d look for work.”

On my final day, I walked home in a daze and felt scared about the future. What the fuck should I do? Should I go? Should I stay? How could I tell all my friends and family, who so-generously congratulated me, my company terminated me after a week?

Over the following weeks, I heard some common questions:

“Is that legal??”
“Didn’t they know you were coming??”
“How small is their new office??”
“He didn’t even call to tell you??”

To quote a friend from Seattle: “Wowie wow wow.”

– Picking Up The Pieces –

It took some time — and some stern convincing — but I decided to search for work again. I emailed and called every financial company I could find, but I had new obstacles to face: I didn’t have experience, I couldn’t legally work in Australia (because of my internship, I came with a basic visa), and most-of-all, companies weren’t hiring.

Inside, I struggled with discouragement, frustration, and resentment. There were so many times I wished I never left Taiwan and wanted to give up. Other times, I was angry with the job market, Australia, my asshat boss, and whatever scapegoats I could get my hands on. Still worse were the times — and I hate to say it — where I was even jealous and bitter towards others.

Look, I’m no saint; nowhere near it. I still deal with programming, experiences, and stupid habits — that should be expected. But we all can improve ourselves and choose our response to different problems. I won’t dwell too much on this, but believe me, we really do.

Over the next few weeks, things became a blur — I lost track of the day, the date, the time, and where my days went. My daily schedule looked like this:

Wake Up.
Turn on computer.
Search for jobs.
Email companies.
Send resumes.
Make calls.

Sometimes I actually left the house and put on clothes — three days a week, I went to the gym. I’d still try to play and relax on the weekends, but in the blink of an eye, it was already late-May and I was still jobless.

– “Hey Brother, Can You Spare A [Job]?” –

As fate would have it, my luck changed.

One morning, a company I emailed asked if I could come by for a chat. My heart jumped. Was this the break I needed? I sped to their office to give my all, but prepared for the worst. When I stepped through their double-doors, I saw a complete change from my previous place — this office flowed with life and energy!

Employees paced about and executed transactions on their headsets, high-definition televisions blasted financial news, computer screens flickered with quotes and trades — it actually resembled a trading-floor.

I spoke with the Managing Director, Tom (not his real name), and he suggested I begin as an intern — unpaid, of course — for the remainder of my visa; if I performed well, they would apply to sponsor me for a Subclass 457 Visa.

I agreed. At least, with this company, I had a chance.

The very next day, I started my job: cold-calling. That was an adventure — I couldn’t understand anyone.

By week’s-end, my superiors liked my eagerness to learn and it boosted my confidence about the future. A few weeks later, with less than a month remaining on my visa (it was mid-June), I asked about the possibility of a sponsorship and got ambiguous responses.

After my persistence, Tom decided to speak on a Monday evening with a broker and friend, Peter (not his real name) — who worked with the company since the start — about the decision. Then I’d receive the answer on Wednesday via email because Tom was traveling to Singapore.

On Tuesday, Peter said it was “really unlikely” the company would sponsor me. He said that the minimum salary for the visa was too high, and he didn’t want me to be “taken for a ride.”

“You should just enjoy the rest of your time here,” he said.

I left at lunch.

– Unemployment Now Redux –

I walked over to Circular Quay with my tie undone and, using a legal pad I grabbed from work, I started brainstorming below a scribbled title, “WHAT DO I WANT TO DO??:

Keep Traveling -> how?

Problems:
1. I’m running out of money
2. I’m tired of failing

Solutions:
1. Find a job (where?)
2. Start a business
3. Go back to Korea?
4. Go back to Taiwan?

It didn’t look great. But, of course, things would change yet again.

– Advance Anthony Fair! –

Thursday afternoon, I got a call from an unrecognized number. “Why aren’t you at work?” asked the my Managing Director. For the first time in my stay in Sydney, I had the power.

During our talk, Tom begged me to return to work and begin training, but I refused — I wanted them to sponsor me. He answered:

“It’s pretty much a yes. I mean, I wouldn’t have people waste time to train you if we didn’t want you… Look, I think you would make a great stockbroker.”

Several smiles and kind words greeted me as I returned to work on Friday.

We agreed to straightforward conditions: the company would sponsor my visa and I would work as a Deals Assistant, obtain my RG146 (a financial credential), and transition to stockbroking. They requested a police check and copies of my passport, diploma, and letters of recommendations, and I happily obliged. Meanwhile, they brainstormed a job description and formulated a contract.

News spread and congratulations trickled in from friends and family alike. New problems emerged: finding an apartment, studying for stockbroking courses, and devising my budget — good problems, for sure. The company submitted (in Australia, they say “lodged”) their applications for sponsorship and nomination on June 30th.

But we soon found they had glaring problems.

– “[Sydney], We Have A Problem.” –

On Independence Day (America’s, not Australia’s), and with 95% of my application completed, I revisited the Department of Immigration’s website to verify a few figures, but something was wrong.

The numbers had changed.

Unbeknownst to us, the government increased the minimum salary for 457 Visa candidates by almost 2,000 AUD, effective July 1st. Subclass 457 Visa laws stipulate a candidate’s salary must match or exceed a minimum threshold and the nominated occupation must originate from a pre-approved ANZSCO (Australia and New Zealand Standard Classification of Occupations) list. The company breached both rules, requiring them to amend their nomination.

The woman conducting Human Resources, Lisa (not her real name), explained that salary and occupation changes required approval from Tom. Simple enough, right?

Then things turned for the worse.

On Thursday, July 7th, fictitious allegations from competitors surfaced, which persuaded a prominent provider to terminate services and withdraw all accounts. The resulting hysteria caused an estimated thirty-percent loss in revenue in one day. By late-afternoon, the directors addressed all personnel about the emergency and their protocol moving forward. Sadly, my appeal for a change in my application disappeared in the frenzy. Although my tourist visa ceased on July 12th, I transitioned to a Bridging Visa after lodging my application on the eleventh.

I waited six more days.

Finally, on Wednesday morning, I spoke with Tom and Lisa about amending their nomination application and they changed their decision:

Because of the new difficulties, they withdrew their sponsorship offer and declined to amend the incorrect information on their nomination application.

It was eleven o’clock.

I left at twelve.

– “Stay Hungry. Stay Foolish.” –

At this moment, I haven’t purchased my flight home yet, but I know I’ll leave soon. The past few days disappeared quickly, but I made them count. I have no idea when I’ll come back to Australia, but more-importantly, I have no idea what I’ll when get back to Los Angeles.

On a superficial level, this debacle cost me several thousand dollars, months of wasted effort, lots of frustration, and — maybe — an ulcer or two. But on a closer look, though I failed to reach my dreams, I advanced bravely and thoroughly into my life. Was it worth it? Only time will tell.

The more I live, the more I realize it’s absolutely and utterly undeniable that our dreams matter. It’s our relentless and unapologetic ability to dream motivates and fuels our spirit. Catastrophes can destroy almost everything — your job, your house, your children, your loved ones — but you’ll always have your dreams and your ability to dream.

Until my dying day, I refuse to accept that we should achieve anything less.

Sweet dreams.