This is a re-post from my old blog, but you need this background before I can tell you what is happening now...
I have officially been in Saudi Arabia for a full week, and in that week I have been to two malls, several restaurants, a ladies night and now… and interview?!?! Yes sir, an interview. I'm sorry... where is my vacation?!?!
A few nights ago I was in a drunken slumber… whoa, that is a lie from the devil! There is NO booze here, people. Hand to heaven, nothing! And nothing makes me feel like an alcoholic like the complete and total absence of it! Ok, let me start over… a few nights ago I was sleeping HARD at 6:30ish (yea baby, I am a senior citizen in training) and Daniel got a phone call from his friend, Ghazi. Ghazi told him he got me an interview for Wednesday with Jazan University’s Director of English. Apparently Ghazi and this guy are homeboys from way back when, and Ghazi made a call for me, and VIOLA… interview! Wasta!
Let me take a minute and tell you about wasta. Wasta is one of the few Arabic words I know, and every time I tell somebody I know that word, they laugh and say “how do you know wasta?”. Wasta just means that you got the hook up! Holla if you hear me. It means you know someone who can help you. It’s not what you know, it’s who you know kind of thing. Everybody loves wasta and everybody hates wasta. Haters gonna hate! Wasta!
So today was my interview! I was pretty excited and actually felt very progressive feminista girl-power about working in such an male dominated country until I was asked me to pull my scarf over my head. Good Lord, here we go, the men are trying to hold me down! But whatever, I like looking like a refugee, so I did it. (no joke, I love covering my hair with scarves and my reasons have nothing to do with religion. I get that some religions have you cover your head from God, and that is cool for them but I love it because I think it is tres chic! I remember watching Schindler's List and seeing the sad little refugee Jews with scarves over their head and thinking "Yes! Work it girl!" and "Liam Neeson is the greatest man alive!". Then I realized how sad it was and thought, "oh my gosh... at least they look fierce!". And thus my twisted little mind has always believed that a scarf covered head is fantastic! Except for nuns... they still haven't gotten that one cute yet.)
ANY-way, The interview was supposed to start at 10 and at 10:50 I was still sitting in the waiting area. Lord child. Nothing will work my nerve like not being on time! That is why we schedule appointments, that is why we have clocks, that is why you need to learn a little something called time management. He was apparently still talking to another interviewee, but that aint my problem. If I ran the world, and obviously I plan to one day, everything would run on schedule. Life would operate like a well oiled train station. Schedule says it is leaving at 10:30, well I hope you are on by 10:29 because in 60 seconds that beast is going to fly out of the station like an underage teenager running from a house party when the cops show up. And for the things we can't always schedule an exact time for, we will go by the -ish rule. The -ish rule means that you have a 20 minute grace period; so if I say 11-ish, that means you really have until 11:20 to get there and after that you are late and that is rude and therefore you are dead to me! (PS- the interviewee who was holding up my appointment time was a foreign woman and her husband, who looked incredibly intimidated that an American was waiting to go in after them. Awww don't worry mister. Your wifey will get the job. I'm sure she can teach English just as well as I can. Errrr maybe not, but I am 99% sure she is more reserved than me, and Saudis love a good reserved woman. I fall more into the obnoxious American category, so holla!!!!!).
Now it was MY turn!!! I walked into his office and sat down in one of the two chairs that were in front of the desk. That sounds normal, right? Wrong. Normally the chairs in an office face the desk, but not these. These two chairs faced each other like I was about to be on some kind of game show and the guy at the desk was our host. Physically uncomfortable. And to make it even more uncomfortable, I'm sitting there waiting to get the party started while the director and some random guy chatted for a few minutes. I must have been mistaken that you were ready for my interview to start. It's very misleading to say you are ready, invite me to come into your office and then talk to someone like I'm not even in the room.
Basically, the interview eventually starts and the guy speaks perfect English. He goes on the brag about himself and tells me that he recently just finished his Master’s degree in Kansas (he said “I am a Jayhawk.”, to which I practiced perfect restraint in not saying “Well I am a Seahawk beeeeetch!”). We had a very standard interview that started off with, "Why should I hire you?". Ummmmm, because I speaka la English?!?! It almost made me laugh out loud. I am not a legit teacher but I am legit the only native English speaking woman in this city, and he knew that! So how is that even a question? If I needed someone to chop some wood for me and there was only one big burly guy in the city, I wouldn't ask him how is qualified. But whatevs... we went over salary and growth opportunities and long story, short version… he offered me the position! BOOM! Still got it! He told me he “liked my spirit”… translation = you seem just crazy enough for this.
Wasta! Now I just wait for the official offer/contract and we’ll go from there! I am about to climb this corporate Saudi ladder like a spider monkey! Hahaha, but seriously I am excited for the opportunity and I think the students will really like my unstable-self! I am now accepting wacky teaching ideas for the classroom… nothing that will get me arrested... Please and thank you!
