29.12.2006

CLOSE TO DEATH THE SECOND TIME 2

CLOSE TO DEATH THE SECOND TIME

ll

After I gave up teaching I got a job working for the American armed forces on Keflavik's Nato-Base.

I applied for a job at an office, which I didn't get, but I was invited one at the Labor-Shop which is the laboring sector of the so-called Public Works- Institution on the Nato-Base, where there are only Icelanders who work in miscellanous departments, e.g. heavy equipment and garbage disposal, plumbers, pest-controllers, engineers, clerks and somebody else.

When I decided to take the job at the Labor-Shop I was informed that I could always apply and get another job in some other department, e.g. in an office some time in the duration of my contract which was three months.

Jobs to be applied for are advertised on a bulletin-board in the various departments before outsiders can apply for them.

In my opinion there shouldn't be much problem for me having myself moved to an office, where the wages were higher and the working hours shorter because I was one of the few that had a college degree on the premises.

During my first week I noticed on the bulletin-board in the building where we the laborers had a residence, that an employee with typing-ability was wanted in the Comptroller.

After having filled out necessary papers at the Staff-Control as was preliminary I was sent to an interview at the intended working place in the Comptroller.

On my arrival I was directed into a room, which was similar to most offices on the Base;

very impersonal, where the furniture was a heavy navy-green iron-desk and mutually dreary-looking chairs, and on the walls were framed colour-photos of various wartools.

I took a seat at one side of the desk, face to face with two young men wearing navy-green uniforms, looking like they were taking their role very seriously.

They kept their frigid faces throughout the interview, in spite of the fact that opposite them my face was smiling.

English was the language used in the interview and went on somewhat like this:

   THEY: Name,age,education and the reason I    wanted this job?
   I:        Replied as well as I was able to, of course and told them that I wanted to make a change, and I also mentioned that in my opinion my education would be of more use at an office, than as a laborer.
             Tried to be mawkish thus following my camrades of the Labor shop's piece of advice. Told them about my eagerness to be of some use for the free world, eventhough I was just thinking about what was favorable for myself.
   THEY: Can you type.
    I:         Told them the truth, that I'd never taken any formal lessons in school, but I'd been doing drills at home using all ten fingers and was getting better each time.

At the end of my first interview I was told, that I had to go back to the Staff-control for valuation of my typing skills.

On my way out I had to go through the hall where the lady-typists were in partitioned closets.

I addressed one of the ladies and asked her whether I had to be some super-typist to be able to get a job there.

THE LASS: -Oh no, not at all. Our job is rather light and irresponsible and there isn't too much typing I can honestly state.
Armed with this information I submitted my typing-test with high hopes as I was quite certain I would make it with flying colours, because even though my speed was rather slow the typing was quite correct.

But all for naught.

I wasn't valued as a good enough typist to receive the job that had been advertised.

In the success of this rejection I resoluted to get the kind of jobs where typing-ability wasn't requested such as at the Supply.
But still all was for naught, even though I applied for every job that might be available.

My despair grew with every refusal and every day that
went by thus bringing me closer to my unemployment and then I reviewed my interview-technique;

something had to be wrong in my method, for everybody seemed to be able to get new jobs inside the Base as easily as drinking water or pissing into the sea.

I predicted that the reason for my little luck in interviews had to be my darn habit unthoughtful remarks in pure hastiness, and more rather the problem I had fighting my great saliva-produce that made me sound just like being quite drunk and of course my interviewers must have rejected me on the spot for such irresponsibility,
just at the moment when I had to give the reverse impression.

I decided to speak with a slower speed and to think carefully about each word I released into the air and finally to remember to swallow my saliva between the pronunciation of each word.

With higher hopes and a bit of nervousness I went to my next interviews.

The going was good and I was feeling triumphant and self-confident, when disaster happened.

For example:

THEY: You speak good English, it seems.
MYSELF: Yes, I studied OXFORD- English in college.

THEY: Do you think you'll have any difficulty in understanding us then.
MYSELF: I think I'll get used to you in a short while, I replied in complete innoscence.

Whether these final words or other similar had something to do with it or something else, an familiar reality faced me at the end of the year when I became unemployed at the end of the employment-deal I had made with my American employers.

Somebody told me that I was the record-holder of most applications and rejections on the NATO-base which didn't really make me feel any better.

CLOSE TO DEATH THE SECOND TIME 2

CLOSE TO DEATH THE SECOND TIME

ll

After I gave up teaching I got a job working for the American armed forces on Keflavik's Nato-Base.

When I decided to take the job at the Labor-Shop I was informed that I could always apply and get another job in some other department, e.g. in an office some time in the duration of my contract which was three months.

Jobs to be applied for are advertised on a bulletin-board in the various departments before outsiders can apply for them.

In my opinion there shouldn't be much problem for me having myself moved to an office, where the wages were higher and the working hours shorter because I was one of the few that had a college degree on the premises.

During my first week I noticed on the bulletin-board in the building where we the laborers had a residence, that an employee with typing-ability was wanted in the Comptroller.

After having filled out necessary papers at the Staff-Control as was preliminary I was sent to an interview at the intended working place in the Comptroller.

On my arrival I was directed into a room, which was similar to most offices on the Base;

very impersonal, where the furniture was a heavy navy-green iron-desk and mutually dreary-looking chairs, and on the walls were framed colour-photos of various wartools.

I took a seat at one side of the desk, face to face with two young men wearing navy-green uniforms, looking like they were taking their role very seriously.

They kept their frigid faces throughout the interview, in spite of the fact that opposite them my face was smiling.

English was the language used in the interview and went on somewhat like this:

At the end of my first interview I was told, that I had to go back to the Staff-control for valuation of my typing skills.

On my way out I had to go through the hall where the lady-typists were in partitioned closets.

I addressed one of the ladies and asked her whether I had to be some super-typist to be able to get a job there.

But all for naught.

I wasn't valued as a good enough typist to receive the job that had been advertised.

In the success of this rejection I resoluted to get the kind of jobs where typing-ability wasn't requested such as at the Supply. But still all was for naught, even though I applied for every job that might be available.

My despair grew with every refusal and every day thatwent by thus bringing me closer to my unemployment and then I reviewed my interview-technique;

something had to be wrong in my method, for everybody seemed to be able to get new jobs inside the Base as easily as drinking water or pissing into the sea.

I decided to speak with a slower speed and to think carefully about each word I released into the air and finally to remember to swallow my saliva between the pronunciation of each word.

With higher hopes and a bit of nervousness I went to my next interviews.

The going was good and I was feeling triumphant and self-confident, when disaster happened.

For example:

THEY: You speak good English, it seems. MYSELF: Yes, I studied OXFORD- English in college.

THEY: Do you think you'll have any difficulty in understanding us then. MYSELF: I think I'll get used to you in a short while, I replied in complete innoscence.

Whether these final words or other similar had something to do with it or something else, an familiar reality faced me at the end of the year when I became unemployed at the end of the employment-deal I had made with my American employers.

Somebody told me that I was the record-holder of most applications and rejections on the NATO-base which didn't really make me feel any better.

In the success of this rejection I resoluted to get the kind of jobs where typing-ability wasn't requested such as at the Supply.
But still all was for naught, even though I applied for every job that might be available.

My despair grew with every refusal and every day that
went by thus bringing me closer to my unemployment and then I reviewed my interview-technique;

THEY: You speak good English, it seems.
MYSELF: Yes, I studied OXFORD- English in college.

THEY: Do you think you'll have any difficulty in understanding us then.
MYSELF: I think I'll get used to you in a short while, I replied in complete innoscence.