I spoke a little English, and understood only very simple language. My husband knew English much better, and helped me as much as he could. He explained to me that to find a job I had to create a resume. He also advised me not to mention my CFO experience, because I would be overqualified for any job. He already had a job, but I had different skills. So I had to work on my resume myself.
I went to a library. A librarian showed me a section with all resume related books, and since I had no idea what book I had to look at I grabbed several of them. I also found a bunch of accounting books, and pulled them from a shelf as well.
Amusingly enough I figured out how to write a resume relatively fast, stating that I was a full time bookkeeper instead of CFO. In a couple of hours my first resume was ready. I didn"t realize, though, that it might read funny, I just did what I felt was right.
I printed out one hundred copies of my resume, bought one hundred envelops and one hundred stamps, and glued all the stamps to these envelopes.
At night, when my hubby saw a pack of envelopes, he wanted check on my pulse, but then changed his mind, because simply recognized my normal behavior. That was the way I did things. He left the pile of envelopes without comments.
The next day, I bought several newspapers and picked up accounting related advertisements. At night, I mailed one hundred envelopes with my resume to different addresses.
Oh well, nobody taught me how to look for a job, and I did something that was only natural to me, meaning when I did something I made sure that I did all I could to make it happened.
My husband gave me the major instruction to get an interview. "The main thing is to find out where and when to go for an interview. The rest is not that important."
I wrote two big words "Where! When!" on a piece of paper and taped the paper right next to the telephone on a wall as a reminder.
The telephone ringed the first time. I got very nervous and picked it up.
I heard a soft man"s voice, "I received your resume. It"s very interesting. You have great experience!"
I knew that already without his remarks. Ten years as CFO and 4 years under the heaviest OBHSS (something like IRS only worse) audit with KGB involvement and still not imprisoned would make me a legend if I was in Russia.
However, I was not able to tell him this. I probably would, but I didn"t know how. The only words I could say clearly enough, "Yes! Yes!"
Though, I wasn"t sure if he was asking me a question or just confirming the fact. "Yes! Yes!" would work in both cases.
"I"d like to invite you for an interview, how about the following week?"
"Yes! Yes!" I hurried with my answer, gasping in happiness. I was so excited that was not able to concentrate on his following speech. I just uttered, "Yes! Yes!" once in a white, when it sounded that he was asking me a question.
"See you then." He said.
"Yes! Yes!" I answered and he hanged up the phone.
I was in shock, holding the telephone in my hand, looking at the huge words written right in front of my nose: "Where? When?".
In the evening, I complained to my husband about my misfortune. He was a master to solve my problems. He connected the telephone to a tape recorder that I would be able to record all the telephone conversations.
I received another telephone call soon. This time I held my horses, and knew where and when I had to go.
I was invited to an employment agency.
A gentleman in his mid-thirties met me at a front desk of the agency, smiling at me with all his 32 perfectly white teeth, making me extremely jealous. A couple of months ago, when I still was in Ukraine, I paid enormous amount of money to a dentist to make my teeth beautiful. She did her best, making gold crowns in my mouth that made me look 100 years older. My natural, always-smiling face disappeared. I was embarrassed to smile, showing my gold teeth.
I couldn"t take my eyes off his incredibly white teeth, as he asked me a question, "What kind of salary are you looking for?"
That was a very inappropriate question, nobody ever taught me to start the conversation about a job with a salary subject. In the former Soviet Union, we were ashamed to talk about it, because we lived and worked not for salary but for the entire country wealth.
I was confused and turned red, having no idea what to say. Then he asked me another question, trying to help me out.
"How much did you make at your previous job?"
That was a very difficult question too. By the written law I had to receive 130 rubles a month that equaled about 50 American dollars. However, my boss allowed me work overtime that was against the rules and I received 200 rubbles instead. So I wasn"t sure if I had to tell him about this unlawfully earned money too, and decided not to.
"One hundred thirty rubbles." I said.
"Per hour?"
I didn"t understand what this "purour" meant, but was afraid to ask and instead said.
"One hundred thirty rubbles for month." The very next moment I regretted that I didn"t tell him about those additional 70 rubles, because his eyes rounded. He wrote something on a piece of paper and asked me another question.
"What is your status?"
My brain searched for the correct answer. I knew the word "status"! I knew it! I just forgot! We used it so many times during immigration. Oh! I remembered now! This word came to me just on time!
"Status of refugee." I almost shouted.
The guy looked at me with curiosity, "Hm! Interesting." Then he made another mark on his piece of paper and said, "You can leave now," and smiled to me.
Wow! He smiled! "He likes me!" I thought. Why would he smile otherwise! I just didn"t know what to do next. I opened my mouth and said something like, "When...eh... job...ah... start..."
He said something, but I caught only one familiar word "wait". All right! That was not that difficult.
I stepped out the office, set on a chair in the corridor and waited.
It was a very long wait. The guy came out of his office several times, and then came back with different people, every time passing and ignoring me.
I was tired of waiting and upset as well. I didn"t expect the wait to be this long. At the end of the working day, when he came out of his office with his jacket on, I got up from my chair and blocked his way out. I looked at him with eyes filled with millions questions. He ignored me this time too, and tried to walk around me, but I didn"t let him.
Then he finally looked at my face and recognized me. "What are you doing here?" He asked with surprise.
"Wait." I said.
"Go ho-me!" He said very slowly and added with irritation. "Wait ho-me!" and proceeded through the front door, leaving me behind in the middle of the corridor. Finally I understood that I waited for nothing.
The next day, I had an interview in a hotel. I was invited to an office where a middle-age accountant was entering numbers into a calculator. His fingers were running quickly on a keyboard. I was not impressed, because nobody ever could beat me in this matter. I was not only an accountant; I was a musician, and my fingers speed always amused people. However, I was trying to be as friendly as possible and decided to make a compliment to start a conversation.
"You are ace!" I said with my heavy Russian accent, and sounded as, "U are ass!"
His fingers suddenly stopped running. He glanced at me and his face turned red.
"What did you say?" He asked emotionally.
"Wow! That was not that much of a compliment to get this emotional." I thought and repeated, "U are ass!"
He got up from his chair and ran out of the office.
The very next moment his secretary came in, "What did you tell him?"
I got suspicious that whatever I said was not a very good compliment, and lied, "I? No! Said no..."
She showed me to the door, telling me to "go home". I already knew that expression, and realized that my audience that was not started yet was already over. Though, I had no clue what I did wrong.
At night, my husband, who was the real expert in this kind of words, explained to me the difference between an ace and an ass. Though, he didn"t tell me the spelling of these words.
The next day the telephone ringed again. Another pleasant man"s voice introduced himself as an agent and promised me a job very soon. As per my husband"s advice, I only answered questions and didn"t give him any additional input.
He asked me to make "some changes" in my resume, and mail him another copy. When I looked at this "some changes" I realized that he practically changed almost every word.
He gave me his mailing address. The name of his company was Brook Association. Brook was his last name, and I got it relatively easily. The word "association" was too difficult for me to pronouns, and even more difficult to spell. I abbreviated it, being afraid to spell it wrong, and wrote on an envelope "Brook Ass". I run to a post office, being afraid that it would close, and mailed the new version of my resume right away.
I never heard from him again.
Another telephone call flew me from the kitchen to the living room.
"Where? When?" I was mumbling under my nose, trying to remember.
"Where? When?" was looking at me from the wall.
I was surprised. Another man called me! It seemed like there were no women in this country! Back in Russia there were no men working in offices, just women. However, in this capitalistic world, everything was so abnormal. Man should work with their muscles or brain, not with their tong! A tong job is a women world! Oh well, what I knew!
I turned on the tape-recorded. He asked me several questions about my resume, and I repeated several times, "Yes! Yes!"
Then I heard the word "interview". "Where? When?" was still looking at me, but suddenly all the English words mixed up in my head: take, give, should, would, department, apartment, your, me...
"Would you take me your apartment?" I asked trembling, meaning to say, "Could you give me your department address?"
"Excuse me?" the man asked surprisingly and I would say willingly.
"Shoot! What is the English for address?" I thought panicking,
"A-a-a! M-a-a! Address. Please." I squeak finally, hoping that he understood the word that I said in Russian. I forgot that the word "address" sounded the same in both languages. Shame on me! I should have remembered at least words that sounded the same.
"Оh! Sure... Are you ready to write it down?" He asked.
"Yes! Yes!" I said having no idea what he just asked, relying on the tape-recorder.
He spelled out the address of the company.
"So, I"ll see you tomorrow at 9am."
"Yes! Yes!"
He hanged up the phone, and I set down on a chair and respired.
At night, my husband and I were listening to my conversation with the gentleman, and before I understood what I said wrong, my husband was laughing his head off.
"You offered him to take you to his apartment. No wonder he invited you for an interview. Who can resist it! Ha-ha-ha!"
"You shut up! I"m already at a top of my nerves," but he laughed out laud his head off.
The next morning, I was sitting in the office of a man in his mid sixties. His name was Mr. Bulge. He read my resume already ten times or more. No wonder, it was impossible to understand. He asked yes-no questions periodically, realizing that these were the only type of questions I was capable to answer.
"Do you know General Ledger?"
"Yes! Yes!"
"Do you know what vendors are?"
"Yes! Yes!"
"Do you know how to calculate payroll?"
"Yes! Yes!
Then he stared at something for a long time, and finally looked at me with delight.
"You know how to do bank reconciliation?" He sounded like he asked me something about a rocket science. "Jesus! What a big deal!" I though.
"Yes." I said kind of carefully, having no idea why he was so excited. That was probably the easiest job of all.
Then he told me a long story about his company. To my satisfaction, I understood him well enough, but had no idea why he was telling me all these. What difference did it make for me what kind of product the company was selling? Debit and Credit were calculated the same way for any company, and financial reports were also prepared the same way. So why would I care? However, as per my hubby advice, I just shut my mouth, smiled, and waited with patience for him to finish his long speech.
It was obvious that the guy loved talking. He also loved to ask me the same question all over again.
"Bla-bla-bla ...You know? Bla-bla-bla ... You know? Bla-bla-bla..."
And every time he asked me this, I answered him agreeably, just in case, "Yes I know!" having no idea what he was asking me about. I just thought that I had nothing to lose. At the worse case scenario, I"d go home and wait for the remaining 96 resumes responses.
After I confirmed thirty times "Yes I know," he concluded importantly, "I"ll let you know about our decision after I consult the president of the company."
I left.
My husband was waiting for me in a car, and questioned me impatiently. I just nodded repeatedly, continuing telling the same thing, "Yes I know." realizing that in reality I had no idea what exactly I knew.
He drove me home, and went to work.
The telephone ringed again. I turned on the tape-recorder, and picket up the phone.
"Are you Louise?" a man again.
"Yes! Yes!"
"Are you looking for a job?"
"Yes! Yes!"
"This is great! I have a job for you."
He started to explain the job descriptions. I was listening, trying to understand the relationship between my resume and the subject he was talking about. However I couldn"t. He was talking about some kind of performance, and I was trying to connect it with an entertainment industry. I already knew that these Americans were talking about their business, while looking for an accountant, so I listened.
"How much do you weight?" He asked.
"Is it as it sounds like?" I was totally confused, but answered.
"Sixty five."
"You are kidding me?" He giggled.
"No." I was dead serious. I just didn"t realize yet that he was expecting me to tell him my weight in pounds, and I used to kilograms.
"Have you ever danced?" he asked.
"Dance" was the word I understood well, but I had no idea what he was talking about. It was absolutely unrelated to accounting. He was waiting for me to answer his question, and I didn"t know what to say. Oh well, I was about to blow my sixth resume! But what choice did I have?
"No dance. I"m looking for a job. Accounting." I said as firmly as I could. I expected that he hung up on my nonsense, but he didn"t. Instead, he continued our conversation in a very enthusiastic mood, and I finally realized that it was for real. He was trying to recruit me to dance in a strip club! Oh! My! I got excited. That was first for me.
I suddenly realized that the guy would tolerate my terrible English no matter what. Wow! I got an opportunity for an English conversation free of charge. Screw this sixth resume! I"ve got something more important to do!
I became more cooperative in our conversation. I calmed down, took my time and thought about my speech the very first time since I started to look for a job.
"Did you receive my resume?" I asked.
"Kind of..." He said uncertainly. I was wondering where he got my telephone number and name. I might screw up some address.
"I have ten years of experience." I said.
"Dancing?"
"Kind of..." I practiced, repeating after him. "Singing..."
"What do you mean?"
"I sing to different people, and dance."
"Good! Good!" He got enthusiastic. "Do you have a good body structure?"
"What do you mean?" I practiced repeating after him again.
"I mean... Hm. Are you thin?"
"No. No thin." Then I thought a little. Whatever I said sounded too dull to me. "I"m not thin." I tried again. "I am normal." I liked that better.
"Good! Good!" He liked the way our conversation took turn. "Do you have a big ass?"
Whooh! I knew this word already! I was about to hang up the phone, but decided to practice more.
"I have a good body structure." I practiced, being surprised that I was saying such things. "Do you have a good body structure?" I needed to say the same sentence in a regular and a question mode, and I did.
"Yes. Good enough!" He said. Oh! I liked that expression.
"Good enough." I repeated.
"Cool! Are you nipples hard and dark? "
"My nipples harden ark." I repeated, having know idea what he was asking me about."
"Great!"
"Can I ask you a couple of questions?" I practiced my interview line.
"Sure, go ahead."
"Cool! How much do you pay?" That was the most difficult question I needed to practice. I knew if I could get through this kind of conversation with this jerk, it would be much easier for me to discuss it with other people.
"We pay enough, baby. Trust me on it."
"Trust me on it." I repeated under my nose and added loud "Cool!" and insisted. "How much?"
"Twenty five dollars." That sounded like million bucks to me, but I didn"t let my greediness take control over me.
"Per hour?" I practiced.
"Yes, per hour." He said, and I was happy, I pronounced it right, because he understood me.
"Do I have to dress down or dress up?" I took this expression from a book about a preparation for an interview.
"You can dress anyway you want."
"Is dress down good enough?" I practiced.
"Sure."
"I have 10 years of experience. I"m sure that I would be a good ass-set in your company." I said the sentence that I came up with myself in advance for an interview, but didn"t have a chance to say it yet. Let"s see if he understood me. I wasn"t sure if I said the word asset correctly, because I heard that it sounded very much like an ass.
"You mean in dancing?" Wow! He got it! Not bad Louise! Not bad at all!
"I have 10 years of experience in accounting." I said confusing him, and then added. "I have 10 years of experience singing, and dancing."
"Oh! Good-good! Forget about accounting."
"Yea! You are right!" I though and added. "Does your company provide any classes?" I practiced.
"Classes?" He asked with surprise.
"Yes. I would like to improve my knowledge."
"Oh! I can give you a lesson right now, if you"re up to it?"
"Good enough!" I practiced.
"Are you wearing your underwear?"
"Underwear?" I didn"t know this term.
"What is underwear?" I asked, and he laughed.
"Oh! It"s a cloth that you put under your dress."
"Oh! Under! Ware! Cool!" I laughed too. "Yes! I wear my underwear!"
"Do you want to take it off?" Oh Jesus! Even my husband never asked me this kind of question. "Be strong Louise!" I told myself. "This conversation is precious."
"What do you mean?" I practiced.
"I mean, just take your underwear off."
"Why do I have to take my underwear off?" I constructed the sentence being very proud. "I can dance with my underwear..." I didn"t know how to say the opposite of "off".
"Well, baby, if you keep your underwear on, you won"t be able to take my class."
"Oh! This is how you say it: "underwear off", "underwear on"! Cool!" I though.
"Just do it, baby." He encouraged me.
"OK!" I said.
"Is it off?"
"Yes." I lied. "It is off." I practiced. I never thought that this was such an easy sentence. In Russian it would be 10 times as long! I started to like English very much.
"Are you comfortable?"
"Yes. I am comfortable." I spoke slowly, thinking about every word, and sounded very well to myself.
"Good! Put your hand on your thing." He said. I knew exactly what he meant, but it was very new to me to call it a "thing".
"What thing do I have to put hand on?" I asked very slowly again, thinking about every word and a sentence structure. "Shoot! I"ve made a mistake again!" "...my hand on?" I corrected myself.
"Your thing, that is between your legs." I heard him panting. Jesus! That was too much for me, but I needed to figure out one more thing. Not that thing, another one.
"Can I ask you a question?"
"Yes, baby." Oh boy! He was in motion.
"When I say "thing" do I always say about this thing that between your legs or I say about all things?" That was a long sentence and I said it forever.
"My legs?" He stopped panting.
"I don"t know? I mean, is a chair a thing too?"
"What?"
"A chair?" God! I lost it. He had no idea what I was talking about. He was about to hang up the phone, and I still didn"t know the difference between this thing and things in general. I thought maybe they spelled or pronounced differently. I had to be careful with this word! This English would make such a fool of me.
"What does chair do with everything?" Oh! He heard me! Good! I meant good enough!
"Is a chair a thing?" I asked hoping for him to bring a light on my vocabulary confusion.
"What is this, a vocabulary lesson?" I heard his irritating tone.
"Yes. You said you give me a lesson. So tell me is a chair a thing?"
"Fuck you!" he said, and hanged up the phone.
I spent another half an hour searching in my dictionary for two words: thing and faku, but was not able to find answers to my questions.
The telephone ringed seventh time. I was so busy with my research that forgot about my looking for a job status.
"Where? When?" shocked me in my head. I picked up the phone and surprised myself with the introduction.
"Louise is speaking." Wow! This lesson did its job.
"Hi Louise. This is Mr. Bulge." As soon as I heard his name all the vocabulary disappeared from my head.
"Yes! Yes!"
"Louise, I"d like to offer you a bookkeeping position in our company. We are offering you seventeen thousand dollars per year, and you will have 6 hours working day. Do you need time to thing about it?"
"Yes! Yes!" I answered losing his last question.
"Are you going to call me?"
"Where, when," suddenly alarmed my mind and then unexpectedly for myself I said very clearly. "When you want me your apartment?"
The very next second the reality of what I"d said shocked me like electricity.
"Department!" I almost screamed. "When?" The rules and terms had vanished.
There was silence in my receiver. Mr. Bulge was digesting my input.
"So, you are accepting my offer. Are you?" He finally asked.
"Yes! Yes!" I shouted.
"Excellent! Then I"ll see you tomorrow in our de-part-ment." He said the last word slowly by syllables and put down the phone.
I felt as energy was floating into my body like a volcano that was about to explode.
I dialed my husband work number.
"I got an offer! I got an offer! A bookkeeper! Six hours a day! Seventeen thousand dollars!" It sounded to me much more than twenty-five bucks per hour. I was so emotional that didn"t realize yet that I had to divide it on 52 weeks and 5 days and 6 hours and subtract expenses for a babysitter, tolls, and gas. I also didn"t realize that our family combined income were going into a higher tax bracket that would eat up my seventeen thousand dollars, leaving me with $100 per month, about the same as I received in Ukraine.
I was screaming in ecstasy. My hubby laughed at me.
This day was too emotional for me, and I was not able to do anything at all. I was just walking in my apartment like an animal in a cage, waiting for my husband to come home and talk about it nonstop.
Two hours later the telephone ringed again. I really didn"t care very much anymore. I got a job, and that all that"s matter.
I ignored the sign "Where? When?" and picked up the phone.
"This is Mr. Bulge."
My heart felt to my knees. "Did he change his mind?" I thought with alarm. "Yes, Mr. Bulge."
"Louise, I was looking at your resume more carefully, and discussed it with the president of the company. We came up to a conclusion that you deserve better position than to be just an accountant. Do you mind to be a full charge bookkeeper instead?"
"Yes! Yes!" I said automatically, having no chance to get emotional yet, even though it seemed like it was not possible to be more emotional than I already had been.
"We can"t give you more money though, but I think that it"s better for you to have a higher position."
"Yes! Yes!"
"Excellent! In this case, I"ll see you tomorrow in our de-part-ment!" He repeated the last word by syllables, making me extremely uncomfortable.
* * *
I was able to talk to my hubby only after we put our children to beds.
"Baby! Are you comfortable?" I said in English almost whispering. He glanced at me surprisingly. That was new to him, and he had no idea what was coming up.
"I forgot to tell you. Mr Bulge called me." I said in a very sexy tune. "He said that I have good enough, excellent experience. He offered me a higher position. So, baby, I"m a full charge bookkeeper! Cool! I"ll see him tomorrow in his de-part-ment! They pay enough! Good enough!"
My husband was looking at me in disbelieve. I never talked this slow, and clear and especially in English. Oh well, I was practicing all afternoon from the conversation that I recorded on my tape recorder.
"Now, baby, forget about accounting. I have a job for you! I"ll give you a dancing lesson." I said and pushed him down to the bed. "I have ten years of experience. I sing and dance. I"m not thin! I have a good body structure and a big ass! Big enough!" And I licked his nose.
"Oh baby! My nipples hard and dark as your ...thing!" I whispered, and my bra flew over the bed.
"Are you comfortable? Do you have your underwear on? Take it off! Just do it! I have my underwear on! I take it off!" and this time I did it. It flew to the other opposite side of where I thru my bra at.
"I don"t know where it"s coming from, but I love it!" My hubby uttered with excitement.
"I take my underwear off! Trust me on it! Now baby, put your hand on my thing, that is between my legs." His eyes rounded, he froze!
I used up all my new vocabulary. The only last word was left, and I was not sure how to use it, because the guy used it separately without any other words, though I had a filling of its meaning.
"Now, baby. I would appreciate if you explain to me or show me what the Russian for faku is."
He pulled me to a pillow, and the last words I learned that night was, "With pleasure."