The shine of an embassy turned into a sickening reality
This is a real event that happened to me some eight years ago, the interview is replicated exactly as I remember it.
A call
My phone is ringing. I move to my room to get some privacy from my landlord watching TV in the living room.
Hmm, unknown number. OK, I guess I’ll risk it and take the call. “Yes?”
“Good afternoon Ms. Krajinovic, we are calling from the Embassy of Croatia in Lisbon. We received your number from Prof. [name] at the University of Zagreb.”
“Oh, ok.”
“She recommended you as a possible candidate for our new vacancy. We are looking for a new secretary in the embassy. Would you be interested in that?”
Secretary? I thought to myself, why did they think of me? I’m a linguistics student.
Oh, wait, it’s the embassy, maybe it’s well-paid… This could be huge, I’ll try to be diplomatic about this.
“Yes, I might be interested. I am currently employed but I am open to new offers.”
“Ok, when would you like to come in for an interview?”
I was in my early twenties, living in a room generously rented out to us by my husband’s family’s friend. Yes, we are married and yes, we are poor students. Our only income is my stipend from my research assistant job at the uni, my first step towards an academic career I desired so much. But this, a secretary?
It doesn’t sound like my kind of job, but if the money is good, maybe we could move out and live like proper adults. Maybe I could even get into Croatian politics and who knows… maybe I could become someone important…
My dreamy ideas about what this job could entail led me to tell my parents about this, which was a bad idea. My dad ended up telling everyone we know I was about to become a consul… like I said, a very bad idea.
The interview
The day of the interview. I’m excited, I’m pumped.
“I have a job and I’m going to an interview for another. Wow, is this what it feels like to be an adult?” My eyes are shining.
“Of course, you’re super talented, everyone wants you”, my husband elaborated, “and now we’ll be rich.”
“Don’t listen to my dad, I doubt secretaries are that well paid. But who knows, it’s an embassy after all. They like, represent the country, that’s serious business.”
“Yeah, I’m so proud of you”, he kissed me as we put our breakfast plates away.
We were both so excited that our lives could potentially take a different turn. Maybe there was hope for someone majoring in linguistics.
We are here. In front of this beautiful vintage mansion in the middle of the green bushy plants, huge security doors in front and a plaque that says “Embassy of the Republic of Croatia”.
“Wow, this is it, huh? I’ll ring the bell.”
“Do it, you’ll do great, I have no doubt.”
I ring the bell and the security officer comes and takes me through the garden to the inside of this beautiful mansion. I am led to the office of the ambassador! Wow, he is meeting me personally? He found time for this? I just assumed it would be someone lower ranking.
We shake hands and he says his name, I say mine. He offers me a seat in a beautiful cushy armchair. Everything looks so fancy and vintage. I feel like I could work in a place that looks like this.
He is all posh wearing a suit and I suddenly think maybe I didn’t dress well enough for this. Well, who cares? It’s an interview for a secretary, not a consul.
“So, why would you like to get this job?”
“Well, I am interested in the job, but you called me to come to the interview and there is no public job description. I assumed you had a specific reason to call me.”
“We were looking for Croatian people living in Lisbon who might be interested and this professor remembered you. And we don’t want to make this announcement public, we want to find someone fast and on our terms.”
“I see.”
“So, you are interested?”
“Yes.”
“Ok, I will ask you some questions and we can see from there if you are a good match.”
“Ok.”
“Tell me something about yourself.”
“I am an MA student in linguistics at the University of Lisbon and I also work as a research assistant…”
“Oh, that’s great. Are you married?”
“Married?”
“Yes.”
“Yes, in fact I am married.”
“What does your husband do?”
“My husband studies physics… I’m sorry but I don’t see how this is relevant, I was saying I am a research assist…”
“I was asking you about your husband. He is a physicist?”
“Yes, an MA student.”
“Ok, interesting. And he is not a research assistant?”
“No, just a student.”
“Is he also Croatian?”
“No, he is Portuguese.”
“And you plan to live with him here in Portugal?”
“Erm, I don’t know, I guess. We live here now.”
“But in the future, you see yourself staying in Portugal?”
“I don’t know, I mean he has his family here, but… I’m sorry, is this somehow related to the job?”
“Well, yes, we want to make sure we have someone really dedicated to being a secretary and staying with us. Our last secretary got married and left us after working here for 10 years. You see, we wouldn’t like that to happen again. We would prefer someone who plans to work here permanently.”
“You mean for more than 10 years?”
“Well, when you put it like that, maybe not exactly 10 years, but some longer period of time for sure.”
“I don’t know, I haven’t thought that far into the future but I am open to new professional possibilities.”
“Are you planning to have children with your husband any time soon?”
“I don’t think so, but what does this have to do with the job?”
“Oh, nothing, we just want to make sure we are on the same page.”
“What page? Would I not be allowed to have children in this job?”
“Oh, no, don’t take me wrong. At least in this initial period, you know…”
The conversation slowed down and this was the first moment since we started talking that I could catch my breath and realize what had just happened. I felt like vomiting. More than anything else, I wanted to disappear.
Fortunately, the end of the interview followed very soon after I came to my realization. There was some short exchange about the salary, which would be 1,000€ per month in the best-case scenario (Ambassador’s words). He said he would ponder about my qualifications once again and reach a decision on my employment in the next few days. What qualifications? He didn’t let me say a word about my qualifications. I was speechless.
I exited through the thick bars of the security fence and saw my smiley husband waiting outside.
“How did it go?”
“Don’t ask.” I had never felt so embarrassed in my life. Especially embarrassed that I actually answered his questions.
We spent the afternoon at the beach and getting some hipster food at a food truck festival. After that we went to a cafe and got some sun, at least that is something you can get for free in Lisbon. We went over every single thing that had happened in that interview.
It is an understatement to say that we were shocked. I mean up to this point in my life I had heard all the horror stories from Croatia: Women fired for getting pregnant, being asked about pregnancy in an interview… But asking about my husband’s career and not caring a tiny bit about mine? Coming from a freaking ambassador?? This was a first for me.
As we were eating an octopus salad, my husband said: “Wow, if someone had shown me yesterday what we would be doing right after your interview, I would’ve thought it went well. We’re eating expensive food, like consuls, not like poor students.”
“Haha, you also need good food to cheer you up when you’re feeling sad.”
“That’s true. I’m so sorry this has happened to you. You should send an email rejecting this position as soon as we come home”, he said holding my hand.
Later that day, I did exactly that.
This was my first interview at a Croatian institution, and that day I decided it would be the last.
[And while to the young readers, it might seem like eight years ago was a long time ago, believe me when I tell you that this was as shocking back then as it is now.]
When I eventually came to the embassy again (to vote), I saw that the new secretary was a young man. I guess they figured he can’t get pregnant, or leave the job due to a marriage proposal, or follow his partner to a new location…
Disclaimer and a personal note: This is a real story but I didn’t write it with the aim of being political. I never filed an official complaint, mostly because everyone around me seemed just shocked and it stayed at that. The consensus was something like “Well, what can you do? Even if you complain, nothing would change”. Maybe they were right or maybe they weren’t, but this story deserves to be told, not only for social justice reasons but also for its sweet embrace of irony that only the poor can relate to.
What are your thoughts on this? Is there anything that can be done, other than my strategy of refusing to work in the country, which is admittedly not a strategy at all. Let me know your thoughts in the comments.
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