Working in Spain is definitely different from working in the States. I have had several different jobs in Spain. The typical work day is from 9 to 2PM then 4 to 7PM with a coffee break at 11AM and the lunch hours leaves those who live close to their office time for nap. Most jobs in Spain are through enchufes and if you don’t have a contact, it’s difficult to get a job. My first experience in the working world of Spain was when I had two internships in Málaga as an undergrad. I worked at Flying Bull Viajes, trying to organize files that were from the time when Franco was dictator. The papers were yellow and they even smelled like a sour yellow. I also had an internship at the Ministry of Culture, writing about tourism in Málaga, the Capital of the Costa del Sol. My supervisor would take me out for coffees at fine places, talk about tourism, and introduce me to his friends – they were all old and balding. He would tell me that this is where I wanted to be seen, I think it is where he wanted to be seen with me. This internship called for me to work at the information booth in the center of town once a week and most tourists only asked where a bathroom was so I sent them to the Corte Inglés, the big department store in Spain at that time. I wasn't sure what to think about working in Spain. Most of the smaller stores close during the siesta, there were always bus strikes which led me to believe that public jobs were the way to go. I will talk about funcionarios in a separate blog.
Upon my return to Spain in 2001, my first job as a student was as a free-lance English teacher which I have always found humorous because if you've noticed, my grammar sucks. I would teach top Executives’ kids English for a mere 1200 pesetas per hour, that’s pretty cheap. When the peseta changed to the Euro in 2002, it was funny because each family did an exact conversion to the Euro which means I got paid 7.21€ per hour. The Euro penny is minuscule, perfect for playing Bingo. I must say I was in shock when the mother paid me the first time, can’t stand tight asses who like to divide the bill according to what they ate, makes it worse when you know they are filthy rich and refuse to shell out the bucks. I mean, 7.21€?, - guess rounding up to 7.50€ was not an option.
While I was writing my thesis, I started my second and third jobs as English teacher. I taught at CEDRO, a copyright organization, every employee there received an English class from me or one of my three friends – the students were very enthusiastic and very nice. My third job was working for a man named Edward who, should he be reading this, is a rather clever man, I always referred to him as the con-artist, he is also an actor. I have seen him in a couple of commercials and it is fun to see somebody you know on the tele. The con-artist could convince anybody that his English classes were the best, he even had me convinced. He sold us to many international companies because of the mere fact that students were getting the benefits of all the English accents and different vocabularies due to the fact that he was British and I was American. He has a law degree but found that being a lawyer in Spain was just boring and not enough money. So, he started his own corporate language and voice coaching which I was more than happy to be a part of. I got this job thanks to Ismile and Eli Bellie, my enchufes, Eli being one of his students and Eli and Ismile both working for a consulting giant. As foreign student in Spain, you can not work more than 20 hours a week and you have to hand in a letter to the Ministerio de Trabajo from your University stating that you have classes during such and such hours and that you are able to work. Edward kindly filled those 20 hours with beginners, intermediate and advanced learners.
I had fun teaching at the big consulting firm, which many Spanish students pronounced "Accentouray" and some other well-known companies in Spain, several students were and remain to be good friends to this day. I found that the students really wanted a break from their mundane tasks at the workforce and really wanted to learn, especially profane and sexual vocabulary which as we know, I have a boca de camionera and it was more than a pleasure to teach such useful vocabulary. I only had one complaint and it was from a girl who had decided she needed to learn French because she got a French boy friend. She always came late and unfortunately, she was in a class with one of Ismile’s dear friends who is hilarious and always asked the absurdities I had taught him like if she was going to "French kiss" and "get it on" with her boy friend after he "wine and dined" her which, while quite humorous for him and the other classmate, they weren’t funny for her.
Edward continues with his language and acting gigs and has also become a photographer, as well as a wedding photographer. His theory is that normal wedding photos are boring, which if you have ever had somebody whip out their wedding album, he is right. Sometimes sticking a needle in your eye would be more fun. His photos are quite unique and he’s won some prizes.
Shortly after I handed in my thesis in 2003, I went home to try recover from yet another illness and to find a job. I just wasn’t that into it. I can admit, I have never really liked working and if I had my choice, I would be a billionaire and I would work as a volunteer where I would surely be useful. Ismile had just been transferred to Israel and I felt like I just didn’t belong in the States. So, in February 2004, off I went to Israel to be with Ismael where I continued to teach many of the Spanish students I had in Spain.
When I returned to Spain in 2006, I got a job as a Program Coordinator for ACCENT, an American company that is an intermediary that coordinates study abroad programs for American Universities that do not have their own study abroad programs directly integrated in their school. My boss was a Cu
ban-American who remains a dear friend but he tends to talk a lot. This job was fun. I got to make up the study abroad program, go on the trips with the students and have the opportunity to be on the other side of being an actual student abroad. I wrote many articles for the students about Spanish culture, etc. Juani, also a Program Coordinator at the time, and I always managed to have a great laugh. One time, our boss, was talking a mile a minute and he tended to make his stories extremely LOOONG, I have the attention span of a 2 year old, suddenly, in my subtle American way and without thinking, I hold up my hand and start pinching my thumb and pointer finger and say, “¡¡Más cortito, más cortito, por favor!!”. Juani almost fell out of his seat! I had students ask me really weird stuff, I figure I must have been like the mother-hen, being the only girl on the staff. One student asked me what she should do because she hadn’t done “number 2” in 10 days. I, as a good Samaritan, told her she should go to Burger King and order a double whopper and a beer. Big smiles from her the next day, it worked.
That job was unfortunately temporary. So in September 2006, I was hired as a secretary/personal assistant/you will do everything for the Managing Director at a law firm. It should have been a sign to stay away from that law office when he asked me how many types of apples I could name and if I liked crossword puzzles during the interview. He spoke to me in a Dick Van Dyke pseudo British accent and he’s not too tall and too skinny. I have never been a fan of lawyers despite the fact that many of my friends are lawyers, but in the work force, they tend to get wordy and claim that there is always the elastic clause allows for bending of the rules, not to mention the fact that most charge by the hour and for phone calls. We will call my boss, Loopy. Just plane, Loopy – I mean, the guy was eccentric and nuts, but nuts to endless capacities. His house was right near the office and several times I had to go look for stuff that he mindlessly misplaced. Many times I had to look on his bedside table for things. I don’t think that is normal to have to go into your boss’s bedroom, crossing the line. He used to send text messages to my personal cell phone and ask me why I didn’t respond. I would turn off my phone when I went to bed, personal cell phone, HULLO?! Obviously, too cheap to pay for me to have a work phone. Well, he didn’t stop there. He would send me text messages while in meetings to go and pick up his things in one of the meeting rooms on the bottom floor. If I wasn’t downstairs to pick up his briefcase in 5 minutes, he would text, “Sarah, why haven’t you picked up my things?” I could hear the Van Dyke through the text. It was like the Devil Who Wears Prada without the Prada as they paid me peanuts.
After I picked up his brief case, I had to go through the papers and figure out what the hell to do with them. I used to have to print all of his emails at about 6PM and he would them cart them to his apartment which was just a stones throw away, he obviously had no clue about being friendly to the environment. One day when I was decifering his notes, figuring out what needed to be done, which emails I had to reply to from his emails that he had written in chicken scratch on the printed copy. So, one day I am going through the papers and I find a paper asking me to send a letter to Marks & Spencer and ask why they didn't make his undies anymore. To top it off, he had actually taken the time to cut the tag out of the undies, staple them to the paper and write me a note. I suddenly had a laughing attack and thought to myself, "Is this man on crack?" then that was followed by an angry attack. I stormed right into his office with the paper in hand and said, "Esto es una broma?" and his reply - "It's a pity! Will you write the note?"
I never did write that note.
I would have to air out his office when I got to work and then look at his modern aged thermostat to make sure his office was 23.5 degrees Celcius. One day, I slipped a bit, I forgot to close the windows on a frigid day and turn on the space heater that would hopefully heat up his office to the required temperature when suddenly, a fired up Loopy, dressed in a pink Hermés tie, a vest and his Madonna-looking blue-tooth ear piece storms out of his office and into the secretarial pool and screams, “Sarah, ¿qué quieres? ¿Qué me muera de neumonia? Te tengo dicho que la temperatura tiene que ser 23.5 grados.” I was red in the face and mind you, I would never actually wish pneumonia on anybody but a couple of sick, Loopy-free days, why not?
Stay tuned for Part 2 as my job with Loopy didn't stop there!
I am in such shock that I just had to write about my experience today on my blog! I got to work this morning at 10:00 AM after telling Boss 4 via SMS the night before that I would be late as I had to deal with Spanish bureaucracy to renew my social security medical card. He wished me luck and usually luck is what you need. In Spain, there is literally a paper for everything and in order for it to be valid, it must be stamped and duly signed. I find the stamp thing funny as there is no “official” stamp. Once a company or whatnot is created, the name approved, and the VAT number is received, you get a stamp made. That stamp needs to be stamped on everything for it to be valid – in my office; I am the “official stamper”!!
