On Monday I went to work. My first day working for a news site, covering stories, uploading stories,researching stories, transcribing interviews, the works! I did all that all in an 8-hour shift and towards the end of my first day at work I found out a few things: #1 – I would not be paid the first month (actually, this is the only thing I did know) #2 – my salary after the first month will be exactly 500 euros and WITHOUT insurance coverage(yikes!) and lastly, I have to bring my own laptop to work. What can I say? I did not go back on Tuesday and I honestly feel as though I did the right thing. It wouldn’t have worked out. This is one experience I don’t need at this point in my life. I’ve learned to pay attention to the internal warning sirens when they go off and there were definitely bells going off right from the start. Oh well. But feeling as if I have to do something to find a job, even if that means to beg, because at some point our funds will run out eventually and we won’t have money to pay for Panayioti’s therapies and I am not about to cut anything, I made a few phone calls. First phone call to my old witch of a boss. Now when I say witch, I mean the wickedest witch there is. A woman who loves to put people down, who relinquishes seeing other people squirm, who gets some sort of satisfaction from the pain of others. I sound melodramatic, don’t I? Um, just ask anyone who works for her. She’s a major publisher of ELT books, by the way. This woman is the most horrible boss ever. For starters, she makes up stuff about her employees. Actually spreads rumors about the people who work for her. Who does that? Oh, and did I mention that this woman wears fishnet stockings to work? Seeing a 70 year old woman in black fishnet stockings in the daytime is some sight. Seeing a 70 year old woman in black fishnet stockings, sky-high hair, and arms full of gold bracelets yelling at some poor employee in the daytime, what a sight!! Anyway, I called her. As soon as she heard my voice the iciness in her tone practically froze the phone on my ear. I said, in all honesty, that I’ve mustered all the courage that I have to call her personally and ask if I could have my job back (which by the way the editor-in-chief said was mine if I ever decided to come back when I quit). She replied that there are no vacancies. I thanked her and hung up as quickly as I could because for some strange reason I just balled. I couldn’t control the tears, they were flowing like crazy!! And poor Beba was just watching me all puzzled ’cause she’s never seen me cry, at least not like this. I cried and I cried and tried to talk myself out of crying but I couldn’t stop. Eventually I did, the hugs from Beba calmed me down. And then I felt silly. I mean when I left from that hell-hole I felt sooo happy. Why would I ever want to go back there? Because of the money. She paid well. And on time. A rarity in Greece at the moment. The next two phone calls to people that I know about jobs were of the same outcome, but at least I didn’t cry this time. There are no vacancies, anywhere. Something noteworthy and kind of bizarre:every time I get down about not finding a job Kosta, my aloof, somewhat indifferent husband, becomes really caring and affectionate. He actually hugged me when he came home and told me all will go well. Yeah, I guess so.