On a whim, Claire had answered an ad in one of the old comics that offered a "home-study course. . . to earn your detective's badge from the comfort of your own home". She'd sent her application to an address in Las Vegas; abruptly, Claire now realizes that the Lincoln that smashed into her had Nevada plates.
In fact, there were 13 months between the time she sent her first job application to the time that she received an offer.
So she went to her bank, ShoreBank, which helped prepare the paperwork, and she sent in her application.
She sent an application to the one place that waived the fee for her, the University of Saskatchewan, and was accepted.
A few weeks later, the bank sent her yet another modification application, which she filled out and returned.
The other day, she sent out application No. 2.
She sent an application to the commission on June 29--along 29--along 29--along that included 69 photographs.
When she saw the ad for the Senior Idol competition in the 50 Plus Senior News, a monthly publication based in Bellport, she quickly sent in her application, hoping to move her act beyond nursing homes.
When she sent out applications without letters of reference, she tended to receive positive responses.
"I don't know what to do," she said glumly, adding that she plans to send in her application incomplete — even at the risk of drawing attention to her undocumented status.
The form she fills out every week asks her things like whether she applied for a job, what kind job it was, how far she drove, and whether she sent an email following up on her application.
