A significant portion of my business comes from referrals, so my three o’clock consultation wasn’t unusual for that reason. The person who referred him, however, is rather remarkable, because Xhioubiozi “Chucky” Baozhuhua came to visit me upon the recommendation of my kid brother, Rob Roy. Chucky seemed a bit nervous as he entered my office.
“You have very nice place, Mr. Collins,” he offered, gazing around in slack-jawed admiration, clearly awestruck by the view of the White House out the picture window behind the couch. He stood there, staring down Pennsylvania Avenue, clearly beside himself, lost in the moment, or perhaps in the throes of some youthful fantasy.
“Thanks,” I replied cordially, with just enough emphasis to get his attention, “please make yourself comfortable.”
With that, Chucky went right for the chair positioned directly in front of my desk and promptly sat down. Leaning forward anxiously, he peered at me in a state of intense body rigor, speaking both emphatically and in an obviously elevated tone. “Mr. Collins, I have big visa problem. I tell your brother Rob Roy and he say I come see you.”
“It’s always a pleasure,” I lied, “to receive visits from Rob Roy’s friends and associates. Could you give me a bit more… ah, background on your problem?”
“In Shanghai, I learn Microsoft dot-Net and C-sharp,” he began, “then I make friends with fat American woman I meet in nightclub. She immigration lawyer, get me visa to enter United States. But she snore, she smell bad, she make me go to science-fiction convention and renaissance fair, she roll over on me in bed and I nearly die, cannot breath. She force me work very, very hard, talk dirty, get very, very sweaty making love to her every night; say I have to dress up like anime characters, dress up like vampire, dress up like Vulcan, dress up like Ewok, dress up like SpongeBob SquarePants and sing about pineapple under the sea. She go Church of Sub-Genius, Goth parties, visit witch coven every week, stay up until three in morning playing World of Warcraft. So I look at www.monster.com and www.dice.com, find job at YoyoDyne in Washington DC, where your brother Rob Roy work. Leave fat woman in Cleveland, come here. Last three years, I make Web applications for Department of Commerce, FAA, TSA, FDIC, Marine Corps. Get pretty Chinese-American girlfriend from Alexandria. But now my visa expire soon. I look for new visa, cannot find.”
“Have you considered the H-1B program?” I inquired.
“Fat woman get me H-1B visa in first place,” Chucky sighed disconsolately. “INS say no more H-1B unless I get sponsor. Get other kind visa or go back China, they say. I apply for EB-5, but INS say I not ahn… ahn… ahn-tre-pre…”
“Entrepreneurial?” I suggested.
“Right” Chucky confirmed, “that is word. They say I not entrepreneurial enough. Must invest one million dollar,” he murmured wistfully, “and create ten new full-time jobs, then they give EB-5 visa.”
“Tell me,” I gently prodded, “what seems to be the problem with extending your H-1B visa?”
“Fat lady get very angry when I leave Cleveland,” Chucky explained. “She say, she fix so nobody sponsor me H-1B again after visa time run out. She say, I want stay in United States and take American jobs, she fix so I have to go back Cleveland. She write me e-mail, say Chucky has to come back and live in Cleveland, dress up and get jiggy like old times, or no visa extension. And now, she want X-men and Spiderman costumes; and she want Chucky to dress up like Gallente, dress up like Cylon, dress up like Tok’ra, dress up,” he slowly choked out, “like… Sonic… Hedgehog.”
“Egad,” I volunteered, “that is nasty.”
At that, Chucky hung his head in his hands and began to cry like a baby. “No can leave pretty Chinese-American girlfriend in Alexandria, Mr. Collins. No want to quit nice Microsoft Dot Net Framework programmer job at Whizzonator-YoyoDyne Information Systems and go back Cleveland and do what fat lady tell me. And no want,” he sobbed, “ever, ever go back to [expletive] China!”
“Okay,” I told him, “in that case, I would say, if the mountain will not come to Mohammed, then Mohammed will go to the mountain.”
Chucky looked up at me through his tears with crimson eyes. “Huh?”
“What that means,” I explained, “is that you need an H-1B visa sponsor who won’t kow-tow to the fat lady in Cleveland, and the best way to get that is to find somebody in China who can afford to come over here on an EB-5 visa. It’s simple, really – get them started and then have them sponsor you for an extended H1-B visa.”
“You very smart man,” Chucky gasped. “I never think of something like that on my own. How I do this?”
“Oh, surely,” I chided, “someone like you must know quite a few people in China with money.”
“In Shanghai,” Chucky confessed, “people with money easy to find.”
“So think hard,” I advised. “What comes to mind?”
“My mother family has a rich man – what is he?” Chucky furrowed his brow, concentrating, trying to recall. “Ah, yes, I remember now. He married to my mother cousin. Milk distributor. Also owns plastic plate factory.”
“Melamine?” I surmised.
“You right, Mr. Collins,” Chucky confirmed. “Owns melamine plastic plant and milk distribution company.”
“In that case,” I ventured, “He’s probably got considerably more than a million dollars. Plus, considering the circumstances there at the momement, it’s a good bet he wouldn’t mind getting out of China, either.”
Chucky stopped bawling. His eyes lit up. “You think so, Mr. Collins?”
“Yes,” I assured him, “as a matter of fact, I’d be quite surprised if he didn’t or wasn’t. So here’s what you do – first of all, have Rob Roy help you set up the paperwork for a software company in Virginia. Have him and Katje pick out some impressive digs in one of those glitzy see-through office buildings in Reston. With the economy the way it is these days, you should be able to pick up some really fancy digs for a song. Then you and Rob work up a business plan for an 8(a) small-business federal contractor – you can copy most of what you need right off the Internet. Then contact your mother’s cousin’s husband and tell him about how, if he wants to come to America, you’ve got everything ready to go – just add money and stir. Once you’ve got the go-ahead from your wealthy in-law, I’ll put him in touch with an immigration lawyer I know here in Washington who specializes in EB-5 visas. After that, there’s nothing to it. He comes here, sets up shop, hires ten American citizens, hires and sponsors you, and bingo! Chucky’s got another H-1B visa.”
Chucky’s face lit up with a big, broad smile. “Oh, thank you, Mr. Collins,” he sincerely effused as he stood up and extended his hand. “I get right on it!”
“Certainly,” I responded as I shook his hand firmly, returning his elated smile with a discreet one of my own. “After all, it’s people like your mother’s cousin’s husband who made this country what it is today.”