Hired!

Today has been one of my happiest days in a long time. After two months and one week, I finally found a job! :)

I was called for an interview yesterday, exactly a month after I forwarded my resume to my friend Claire. I was lucky to have the interview rescheduled after the very unfortunate event of being stuck in traffic along Sheikh Zayed Road for a few hours. The interview was scheduled at 9:00am but since I was, again, lucky to catch a taxi just a few steps from my flat, I came two hours earlier! :)

The interview went on very smoothly, with Steve the interviewer asking normal interview questions. There were times though when I could hardly decipher what he was saying. I don't know if it was his British accent or if he was just eating his words. It was a good thing that he was also chatty so I did not feel like this was a job interview at all. He was complaining that most of the people he interviewed spoke with an American accent. I boldly said, "Well, we can change to British if you want!" Steve sat back, crossed his arms and asked me to say something in his accent. I laughed and declined. I explained that it was part of my previous job to learn British accents. Steve decided to test me and ask me to repeat the words "herb" and "tomato" after him. I obliged and I guess he was pretty entertained. Ha! :)

This afternoon, Steve called with exciting news. I was chosen for the receptionist/admin staff position! He gave details of the compensation package and my jaw dropped. The salary was higher than what I expected! :) I was so happy that I was laughing non-stop for about a minute.

The next few minutes were spent sharing the good news with everyone: calling my brother, calling my friend Claire (who always put in a good word for me), updating my status in yahoo messenger and facebook, sharing my happiness with my flatmates and texting my mother and friend Suzette. Just the day before, I was at my lowest point, wondering whether I should just give up and go home. However, I owe it to the people who have been continuously praying for me and giving me words of encouragement to continue fighting. I figured that I might as well fight until my visa expires. I have been constantly praying for a good job and asking my friends around the world to pray with me. I have people praying to Jesus and Allah and I even asked my friend who is in Tibet to offer a prayer to Buddha. Talk about storming heaven's gates! I hope my employment visa will be processed before my tourist visa expires. Under the new rule, one has to go back to the Philippines while waiting for their employment visa. I'm going to tap my prayer network again for this one! :)

Right now, I am just happy to start a new chapter of my life in Dubai. The last nine weeks were an emotional rollercoaster, a ride wrought with anxiety, anticipation, boredom, sadness, happiness and excitement. I am thankful for the support of friends both here and abroad who bore witness to all my ups and downs. I am grateful for the many Filipinos I have met in interviews and in my daily commutes. They too, share my hope of finding a job and even went the extra mile of giving email addresses where I can send my CVs. Ditto for my classmates in Arabic class who extended the same generosity. A big thanks to my flatmates who constantly found ways to cheer me up, whether it was a choco hot fudge sundae, junk food, ice cream. the Friday edition of the Gulf News or videoke nights. Thank you to my flatmate She, who volunteered to fax and print my CVs during her free time. Ditto to my sister-in-law Leslie, her sister Chai, their flatmate Christine and to my friends Ella, Shane and Dave. Thanks to my flatmate Erwin who shared his juju of not washing your hair on the day of the interview (The trick was to wash your hair before you sleep so all you have to do is take a shower the next day. This works fine as the water is always hot in the morning. It's less hair fall for me! hehehe!)

Now that the jobhunt is over, a sense of relief has come over me. Excuse me while I savor my last few days as a bum. :)

And The Winner Is...Me...But...

From 200 who submitted their CVs, 40 were interviewed, 7 were short-listed and only 5 attended the second interview last Sunday. Of the five, three were Filipinos, one was Kenyan and one was I think, an Indian. How very Miss Universe-like, I thought.

The boss was coming in late which meant more time to sit and wait. I fish out my camera and take pics of the objects on the table. The window offered a good view of the Emirates Towers across the street. Click.

I brought my book on travel writing, anticipating the long wait. I realized I can use this as a prop. When my turn came, I was holding the book, knowing it would spark his curiosity. Talk about selling myself by making sure I would stand out in his memory as the travel and writing girl.

True enough, the first thing he did was to ask about the book. "So you want to be a travel writer?" "Yes!" I explained that I have travel articles published in the Philippines. The next series of questions flew by so quickly that I must have spent less than five minutes in the room. The questions were surprisingly very normal (Would you like to work for the company? What is your strength among the other candidates?). I was expecting a practical test on how to make coffee, or something like that. Anyway, I was told to expect a call by that afternoon or the morning after if I was the chosen one.

At 5:49 pm, the phone rang. I was chatting with my mom, who was telling me to go home already. It was Ms. Audrey on the other line, Mr Hassan wanted to speak with me. "Congratulations, you won a million dollars!" "Really?" "Yes, come to work tomorrow at 11am, sign the contract and then you can start right away." I felt like the new Miss Universe 2008. Hahaha.

Getting the position was one thing and knowing the terms of contract was another. I had prayed to God that if the job was really for me, the company must offer a good compensation package. I read the employment contract draft. No concrete figures were given. I had a gut feeling that if we were to base it from a previous experience, (I declined a job offer from a Lebanese company) the starting salary would also be low. I proceed with writing the questions that were forming in my head.

At Mr. Hassan's office, I was told that the job offer would be pegged at three thousand dirhams. Aside from performing executive assistant responsibilities, I would also be an office manager and a receptionist. I started to doubt. The boss rambled on that the other benefits (the bonuses, increments and even the yearly plane ticket) are performance-based. Hmmm.... I ask for a few minutes to think it over.

After several phone consultations with my brother and friend (she was backing up my application in her company and I was already slated for interview at 5pm that day), I faced with Mr. Hassan with an indefinite answer. I told him I needed more time because I still have to discuss the terms with my brother and that I would also like to see what the other company had to offer. I explained that the salary is not enough to cover the cost of living here in Dubai.

At 10:44am today, I officially declined the ad agency's offer. My visions of an Ugly Betty-ish life just ended. Haha! It's back to square one again.

Of Smiles And Stares From Strangers

It's funny how one can elicit a positive response and the other, a negative one.

In the two months that I have been here, I have noticed that Dubai has a predominantly male population. Please note that of the city's population, the Emiratis (locals, as they are called) only comprise a measly eighteen percent. The rest are of different nationalities, mostly from India. Now you can just imagine how uncomfortable it is to be walking the streets of Dubai and being at the receiving end of these stares from men. Once, when we were waiting for the traffic light to go green, I looked at the nearby vehicles and to my horror, a busload of construction workers was next to our taxi. They were all peering from their windows, their eyes fixed on me and my female companion. Eewwwww!!! I get the same creepy feeling whenever I pass by the Al Ghubaiba Bus Station. It seemed that the male South Asian population in Dubai converged in that terminal. Some would size you up from head to foot. Others would even try to catch your gaze. It gets more uncomfortable when you are all lining up for the bus and it takes a while for the bus doors to open. Since you're all huddled together, it's not hard to notice their menacing stares. In my mind, I find myself saying, Ewww kuya! Wag po kuya!!! hahahah...Females are supposedly the first ones to enter the bus but sometimes, when the doors do open, it all becomes one mad dash to the door. The uneducated ones disregard the women in front of them and jostle their way in, much to the displeasure of the men and women trailing behind.

Today, I was lining up at Spinney's. A tall, Caucasian guy stood next to me at the counter. I was fixing my stuff and I unintentionally glanced at the next guy. He gave a polite smile, gesturing for me to continue with what I was doing. That made my day (Oh, did I mention he was cute too? hihihi). Finally, a show of refinement and good manners! That was a refreshing change from the uneducated actions of some of the men here.

I think it's exciting how a city's character unfolds as each new day arrives. Meanwhile, I continue my Dubai adventure with a silent prayer that I get more of the former and less of the latter. :)

The Strangest Interview Ever...An Update..

Today, I woke up from my afternoon nap to the incessant ringing sound of my mobile phone. It was Audrey, from the company which gave the most bizarre interview ever! I am scheduled for a second interview on Sunday, October 5th at 12 noon. I wonder what adventure awaits me! :)

The Strangest Interview Ever...

Date: 17 September 2008
Time: 2:00 p.m.
Place: Rm 604 Crowne Plaza Building, Sheikh Zayed Road
Position: Executive Assistant for an advertising company

Having survived my pick-up girl moment (see previous blog entry Are You Marriage?), I continued to psyche myself for the interview. I managed to come on time, thanks to Mr. Hussail.

I was ushered to a mini-conference room upon my arrival. An Indian girl arrived before me. We were immediately given some sheets to fill up. The fun had just begun...

After answering the usual personal profile questions (name, age, religion, expected salary, etc.), I then turned to page two. It said "General Information Questions". Interesting.

Question 1. What is the international currency code of the United Arab Emirates?

Thinking it was asking for the dialing code, I answered 971. After reviewing my answers, I promptly erased that and answered AED (which is the correct answer).

I was to answer 9 more questions (I don't remember them in the exact order anymore and I am missing one question ) and here are my answers (in blue):

• What is the capital of Spain? Madrid
  
• What was Mozart's occupation? composer?
  
• Which country won the World Cup in 2002? France?
• What does www stand for? world wide web
  
• Who is the current US Secretary of Foreign Affairs? Condoleezza Rice?
  
• Who wrote Romeo and Juliet? William Shakespeare
  
• Who is the founder of Microsoft? Bill Gates
  
• What is the code for Dubai International Airport? DXB
  

The next part consisted of several computer-related questions, which thankfully were multiple choice. Only somebody from advertising would think of such crazy questions to ask an applicant. I felt I was part of a quiz bee/game show. The only difference is the prize. It was a job at stake and not merely a medal or a cash prize or a kitchen showcase. I can only imagine what the interviewer would be like.

After spending half an hour waiting to be called by the interviewer (who turns out to be the big boss), it was finally my turn. In true bizarre fashion, the interview felt like a beauty pageant.

The secretary introduced me to the boss as Roma.

Boss: Roma?
Roma: Yes, Roma, like the city in Italy. (I proceed to sit down.)
Boss: Would you like to visit Rome?
Roma: Of course! I want to see what it's like...
Boss: Oh, but it's not a nice place to visit. You can get robbed, raped or killed. Rome is full of criminals. (Wow, thanks for dousing my enthusiasm!)
Roma: Really? How do you know all of these?
Boss: I've lived there.
Roma: Well, I would still like to go. Anyway, criminals are everywhere.

Boss: How would you describe yourself in terms of organization? Are you very organized, messy, or somewhere in-between?
Roma: I would say in-between. When it comes to tasks, I even go to the extent of listing down the steps required in order to complete the task. When it comes to my personal things, however, I have what I call an organized mess. I have my own way of arranging things and if somebody attempts to fix them, I have trouble finding my stuff. (This is already somewhat paraphrased. Boss writes something down on the upper right corner of my CV.)

Boss: What is advertising for you? (At this point, my mind goes, YIKKKESSS!!!)
Roma: It's about creating an image for a product and communicating that image to a target audience. (Ha! Good thinking on this one...hehehe..I don't know how I managed to compose this answer!)

Boss: So you speak Spanish..Habla espanol? (Do you speak Spanish?)
Roma: Un poco, si. (A little, yes.) Boss smiles. But I don't speak that well.
Boss: Por que? (Why?)
Roma: Por que no practicar. (Literally, because no practice.) People in the Philippines only speak Filipino and English. There's no one to converse with. (Uy, palusot!)
Boss smiles again. I feel like a beauty pageant contestant greeting the host country in its native language.

Boss: How do you entertain yourself? (Ano raw? Gawin ba akong autistic...hahaha!)
Roma: I'm sorry, you were asking about what I do in my free time? (Gusto ko lang ipaintindi na hindi ako baliw na umaaliw sa sarili...hahaha!)
Boss: Yes.
Roma: Well, I watch TV and movies, read books and sing.
Boss: You sing...Do you sing well? (Aba'y naghahamon ata ito eh...)
Roma: (Smiles and says in all confidence) Of course! Would you want me to sing for you? (Aba, bibo na kung bibo no! Todo na ito!)
Boss: (Smiles in amusement) No, no, it's too early for that...
Roma: What do you mean it's too early? Are you saying it's only reserved for nighttime?
Boss: No, I mean, we don't know you that well yet to ask you to do that. Besides, you might break the windows with your singing...(Uyy, nakikipagbiruan na! Cheee!)

Anyway, I was so glad to have this interview over and done with. Boy, was I kept on my toes! On hindsight, I enjoyed the experience probably because I love trivia games and beauty pageants. It was certainly the most bizarre application process I have ever experienced. As to whether I get short-listed or not, we have yet to see. Nevertheless, I feel proud of what I have accomplished that day (after having a tearful outburst, being offered a ride by a stranger, and this strange interview). I can look back and say, "No, I don't feel, any pressure, right now!" (to borrow one of Bb. Pilipinas-World 2008 Janina San Miguel's quotable quotes). :)

Tears, Anger, Poor Cab Driver

A Pakistani cab driver was the lone witness to my unexpected tearful outburst yesterday morning.

I went to the Philippine Consulate in Al Qusais for two reasons:

• to submit the marriage documents on behalf of my brother and his wife as it was nearing the deadline for submission already.
  
• to get a special power of attorney form for my friend Michael

I was reluctant to make this trip for again, two reasons:

• At their wedding, it was decided that it was Leslie's sister who will be submitting the documents
• I had a job interview scheduled at 2 p.m. that same day and my brother only told me the night before. I did not want to be bothered with any activity on an interview day.
  

After much pleading and prodding, I finally agreed. Anyway, I was just going to fall in line, submit the documents and ask for the form. It should not be taking too long.

Was I wrong! At the satellite office, lots of people were milling about, queuing for different purposes. The line at the Visa section was short and I was second in the queue. Fine, this should be over in ten minutes max. Unfortunately, the person in front of me had lots of questions about marriage documents. I was getting impatient but tried to put myself in the guy's shoes. I let it pass.

Finally, my turn came. The guy in the counter reviewed the papers and said that even the marriage documents needed to be reproduced. He needed five copies each for the three-page marriage document. I asked if there was a photocopying machine in the office. The guy said that they have but it would be more expensive as they charge 2 dirhams per page. I would be shelling out 30 dirhams for 15 pages. I told him that I needed to call my brother first.

Kuya said that since there was nothing else that could be done, I might as well proceed with photocopying the documents there. I called up Leslie and told her of my predicament. She said it was too expensive and maybe I should just have it photocopied somewhere else. I asked the deadline for the submission. She said she didn't know. I felt my temperature matching the scorching heat of the sun.

Deciding to take matters into my own hands, I lined up at the cashier to pay for the photocopies. I was about to pay when I got a call again. It was my kuya and his wife on conference. They said that I should just go ahead and pay 30 dirhams. I got annoyed and said, "I'm already paying for it!!!"

Now, the photocopying machine is in the nearby main building. There was a small crowd in front of the main door. I asked if this was where I should go for photocopying. The person said I just have to open the door, look for the person-in-charge, hand over my documents and the official receipt and wait for the person to call me back. I was to position myself at the front door to receive my docs and the photocopies.

Realizing that this will take a few minutes, I ran outside the gate to tell Mr. Cab Driver to wait for a few more minutes. He asked how long he should wait. I said 10-15 minutes. He asked about the taxi meter. I said he should not worry because I will pay.

I waited, waited and waited at the front door. The others have already received the documents and new batches of people were joining the crowd. I was getting really, really impatient! I started ticking off the things that I still needed to do before my interview: marinate the porkchops, cook them, cook rice, take a bath, dress up, put on makeup. I was shaking my head in disbelief. Surely all these had to happen on the day of my interview!

Finally, I received my papers but the girl just handed them all to me without fixing them! I rush back to the satellite office and arranged the papers. Someone else was still talking to the guy I talked earlier. I groaned. How much longer will I have to wait?

Fortunately, not for long. I apologized to the guy because I did not have a stapler. The documents were now ready for submission! Now for the form...The guy said that there were many kinds of power-of-attorney forms. Michael did not tell me which one I was supposed to get. I was irked. I told the guy that I would have to make another call to clarify. The form was to be used for a loan. The guy said that for forms, I needed to line up anew. Sensing that I was getting annoyed and harassed already, he just handed me the forms. I smiled and said thank you.

I ran to the cab and apologized to the driver. By then, I was already in a foul mood. I was not going to have enough time to do everything! Anger was already starting to gnaw at my whole being. I tried to distract myself but well, anger got the better of me. One large tear rolled from my left eye. I stubbornly wiped it away. In my mind, I was chanting, "Do not cry in the cab. Do not crryyy in the caaaabbb!". The more I said this, the more I felt like crying. I was arguing with myself. Why was I even very angry? Why was I allowing anger to get to me?

Not finding valid answers, I could not contain myself anymore. I let the tears flow, and with them, all my raging thoughts. Why must I do errands on a very important day? Why do I need to cook for the boys? Why do I feel like I am an errand girl? I cried intermittently from Al Qusais all the way to my home in Bur Dubai. And in between these angry thoughts, I was fretting over how I will look in the interview later that day. Surely, I can't be seen with puffy eyes! I was really upset because everything was all messed up! Instead of focusing my energies on the interview, now I even have to psyche myself to get over that morning's events and let go of my fury.

At this point, the cab driver could not help but ask why I was crying. He asked what happened and if I wanted tissue. I initially declined because I already had my hanky. However, seeing his earnestness to help, I got the two tissues. In a broken voice, I try to explain the sequence of events. Mr. Driver became my sounding board and tried to cheer me up. It was all so surreal. I could not believe that I was making a mess of myself in a cab and he was trying his best to calm me down. "Everything will be all right.", he said. Inshallah, it will.

We arrived soon after. I gave the poor cab driver a tip and apologized for all the drama.

This is my first real crying bout in Dubai. Funny how my first real cry was out of anger and not out of homesickness. Meanwhile, life goes on. It just has to.

Are You Marriage?

It was already 1:30pm but I was still trying to hail a cab. My interview was set at 2:00pm. I was standing under the hot Dubai sun, arms flailing every time a cab appeared. My face was fully made-up and I was wearing my favorite blazer.

A car suddenly stopped near me. The man was gesturing for me to approach him. A carlift? That was just what I needed. I opened the door: "I'm going to the Crowne Plaza Hotel along Sheikh Zayed Road." The driver nodded his head. I asked how much. He said he wasn't going to charge any because he is not a carlift. He probably sensed my hesitation but said it was okay. Time was running out so I decided to take the offer. I prayed that he would be another good person.

Meet Hussail, from Tehran, Iran. A red light immediately went off in my head as soon as he said his nationality. In my conversations with people here, people tend to stereotype each nationality so I always make a mental note of these things as an extra precaution. Anyway, as usual, we got stuck in traffic so we had more than enough time to talk. He asked whether I live near the area he saw me (I was feeling like a pick-up girl already..hahaha!), who it was that I was living with, how long I've been in Dubai..the usual questions you would ask a person you've just met..until..

Hussail: "Are you marriage?"
Roma: "I'm sorry? You were asking if I'm married?"
Hussail: "Yes, if you were marriage."
Roma: "No. I am single."
At this point I was really beginning to get a creepy feeling...

Hussail: "How old are you?"
Roma: "27 turning 28."
Running out of words to say, I asked if he was married too.
Hussail: "No, I am also single."
Roma in her mind: "Yikes...what's next?"

Fortunately, we reached the Crowne Plaza Hotel already. As I was about to get off, he said, "Do you mind if I ask for your number?" Halaa!!! I fumble for my phone again, trying to buy time. He had a pen in his hand already. Sensing my hesitation again, he just asked if I could take note of his number, which I did. He asked if I knew where I was going. I said no, but I can call for the exact directions. He said: "are you sure? Otherwise, I would have to wait for you." That would have been a nice gesture but you already freaked me out, I said to myself. I waved goodbye and smiled.

Here's another weird story for the books. :)