Spanish Economy 101 and my Job Search

I was going to send this out last week, but as they say in Spain...mañana, mañana...I will do it mañana (tomorrow). I have been really busy here doing much of nothing.. …I take nice walks on the beach, am learning to drive stick shift, have been busy seeking volunteer opportunities, and have been introduced into the wonderful world of job seeking here in Spain.

I went grocery shopping today and spent 1,188 pesetas, or 7.14 Euros...in layman’s terms, a little over $6.00. Woo-hoo...I had to buy a few things that we needed at home. This is what $6.00 got me: bread (think long French baguette), a dozen medium sized eggs, 100 grams of smoked salmon, 1 kilo ground coffee, 1 liter of olive oil and 1 kilo popcorn kernels. Not bad eh?? That little purchase would have cost me about $15.00 (estimate) in the USA. Grocery shopping is relatively economical here. Other things are quite expensive. Gasoline, for example, costs .82 cents a liter. There are roughly 2.5 liters in a gallon (please correct me if I am wrong...I am trying to get these measurements down). That means a gallon of gas costs $2.05. Ouch. That’s rough when you consider that the median salary here is about half of what it is in the USA. Which explains why everyone drives such tiny cars here...and why everyone walks when they can...and why Vespas are so popular. Teenagers don’t drive cars here, they drive Vespas...and boy are they dangerous...

Who would have guessed that it would cost about $500 for me to get my driver’s license here in Spain? That’s not the worst part, the worst is that I have to learn how to drive stick shift amidst all those darn Vespas. I feel like pied piper with all those rats around me. They take the pedestrian crossings here seriously. If someone is waiting to cross in the ped walk, you stop. New Jersey is a great state...beaches (although they don’t compare to the ones here), casinos and those lovely circles and jug handles. I really hated those circles and jug handles...I figured once I got to Spain, I wouldn’t see them again. Silly me. Learning to drive stick shift and making my way around those circles without cutting off those annoying Vespas or running down the “marujas” with their baby strollers will be the death of me yet (or them..).

Speaking of the “marujas” (housewives) with their babies, I am continually amazed at the preference that dogs are given here. They are treated like babies too. The dog of choice here is anything small and yappy. UGH...for those of you who know me well... ha ha ha.. These dogs are everywhere, in the drug stores, the drycleaners, the grocery store, on their owners´ laps on the park benches, in those tiny elevators...wherever its owner is, the dog is. No kidding, I have seen dogs here smaller than the cat that my parents own. What I find truly amusing are the “sandboxes” on every block. Heaven forbid one of those marujas lets her kids play in the sandbox. Think public litter boxes for dogs. Honest to God. There is even a sign posted above them sporting a picture of a dog with droplets coming from you know where. I walked past one the other day that actually had a fence around it with a gate. I guess, to offer the dog more privacy as it does its thing. Who would’ve guessed. However, damned be you if you should find toilet paper in the public restrooms...

I have sent out over 200 resumes via regular mail, online postings, through professional and personal contacts. It is standard practice (expected) that the resume/CV is accompanied with my picture (headshot) and a lot of personal information such as date of birth, marital status, age…etc. Amazing. It’s a question of waiting now…...and sending more out tomorrow, and the next day and the next. So far those efforts have scored me interviews with three different companies.

The first one that I interviewed with was for selling long distance telephone service. I milked it for all that it was worth...not because I was interested in the job, but because I wanted to get a sense of how it all works (business) here in Spain. When I was here 14 years ago, I was only concerned with meeting up with my friends, drinking coffee --or substitute any alcoholic beverage -- playing pool and seeing how many people we could fit onto a Vespa. Now it’s time for me to be serious. I scored a second interview with the company...but the guy stood me up! ¡Qué morro! (What nerve).

The second company that I interviewed with was a Spanish affiliate of a major American insurance firm. The first interview was kind of suspect...held at a hotel bar (smacked of Amway or other multi-level marketing scam)...so DH drove me and scoped out the territory from a safe distance in another part of the bar. One by one, the job aspirants were shown to a room where two different tables were set up for two different interviewers. The first guy was nice enough...asked me run of the mill text book human resources questions. He then directed me to the second guy who continued with the same line of questioning. What killed me was when he asked me if my husband knew that I was there for the interview. Ha ha ha ha!!! Machismo has not died! I did not tell him DH told me that I was given the “sex check”...when I was ushered into the room, both the interviewers checked me out head to toe from the bar (unbeknownst to me). After the first interviewer was done with me, he apparently had a conversation at the bar with the second interviewer who asked something along the lines of “is she cute?” (all this according to what DH overheard).

I am a candidate for a major fundraising position at an international non-profit. The first interview was a matter of listening to the regional president do all the talking. The second interview was with 5 presidents of the local chapters. It was more like a conversation in a bar than anything else. “Where are you from?” “You don’t look American, are you Puerto Rican?” (last time I checked, Puerto Ricans were also Americans) “Are you married?” “Do you have any kids?” (no, I have a husband and that’s enough for now). “Are you going to have any kids in the near future?” (I don’t know, are your birth control pills effective here?). What a job interview. No questions about how much money I have managed, no requests for references, special campaigns, etc. The youngest guy asked me three semi relevant questions...have I ever managed volunteers? Have I ever worked with politicians? Do I plan to live in Valencia (do you mean forever??). That was it. I had to pinch myself...then later repeat practically verbatim the interview for DH asking him if it were a real interview...he said that that´s how they go here. What´s written on the CV is believed.

Anyway, I am constantly surprised at the “laid back” and trusting attitude that everyone has here, and frankly, find it a welcome change from the rat race that was my life...even if the interviews don´t really seem to be interviews!