not your average cover letter: visas in vietnam
Sometimes it’s clear a company would appreciate a more conversational tone in the job application process. One example of this was an eVisa tech company I recently applied to. Instead of a regular cover letter, I decided to share my own visa experience from 2024.
I’ll one-up the usual cover letter and share my travel visa story:
Last year, I spent a month in Vietnam and had to get a paper visa mailed to me before going. They seem to have eVisas now, but at the time, it was still a big pain in the butt. I had to call the embassy on the phone to arrange it and even mail a physical photo. Friction Point No. 1.
I made it to Vietnam, bought a motorcycle in Hanoi, and found a local reseller. He didn’t bother to ask for my motorcycle license—good, because I didn’t have one. The so-called paperwork? Handing the current owner a wad of cash and receiving a green slip with the motorcycle’s information. My name wasn’t even on it. In under 30 minutes, I was the proud owner of a rickety Honda dirt bike, ready to head south.
Somehow, I survived one month and 2,000 km of Vietnamese traffic before selling the bike in Ho Chi Minh City. By then, I was two days late on my 30-day visa. I looked into extending it in HCMC, but everything I found suggested expats just did border runs to renew. The local immigration office was slow and had no clear system for expired visas. Friction Point No. 2.
Friction Point No. 3: I got tons of conflicting information about leaving with an expired visa. I deduced there’d be a fine, but the amount was unclear. Worse, I couldn’t even buy a bus ticket to the border—apparently, operators worried about delays or passengers getting stranded.
I made it through Friction Point No. 4 by begging my way onto the bus. “You can just leave me at the border if I can’t get through.” (No idea what I’d do if that happened—the border had no tourist infrastructure at that hour, and local transit seemed inscrutable.)
At the border, I waited in line after explaining my situation to the bus attendant, who said he’d “see what he can do.” As the line shrank—20 people, then 10, then 5—I grew more nervous. With one person ahead of me, the attendant returned: “I can get you through, but the fine is 4,000,000₫.” (About 210 CAD—twice the original visa cost.) Clearly a rip-off, but I was in no position to barter. Friction Point No. 5.
I sprinted to an ATM, grabbed the cash, and rushed back. The bus and all passengers were gone—even the attendant. After a few sweaty minutes, he reappeared, took the money, and led me to a side kiosk. A few muttered words later, I was waved through. I never even saw the money change hands. Friction Point No. 6.
With tremendous relief, I crossed into Cambodia—only to realize I now had minutes to sort out my next visa on the other side.
So, I can say with absolute certainty: In Vietnam, it’s easier to buy a motorcycle than to leave the country.
Beyond my personal interest in your product’s success, I’m also a team player with a growth mindset. Hope to hear from you soon!