Standard Arabian Business

Me in my fake abaya

I didn't sleep well.  I kept getting up to check the time, worried that my alarm wouldn’t go off for some reason.  Wouldn't it figure that when I finally did drift into my first deep sleep in 48 hours, my alarm went off.  The first thing I did was check my email to see if the company had responded to me.  They had.  My instructions were to be in the Lobby at 10am, and not to take the 9am bus, because that bus was to take the teachers to school, and I needed to come to the office instead.  Relieved, I decided to try to get a little more sleep.  At 9:05, I heard a knocking sound, I sat up in bed.  Is someone knocking on my door? I heard it again.  This time I was sure it was my door. I got out of bed and started to make my way to the door, but stopped short half way there.  I was in shorts and a tank top.  I needed my abaya.  The knock came again louder, and I hurried to throw on my makeshift abaya. By the time I had frantically thrown on my abaya and grabbed a scarf to throw over my head, there was no one at the door anymore. The phone rang.  It took me a minute to locate it on the wall by the TV... But finally I found it. Hello? I said. Someone answered and said something in Arabic, and then the word, "downstairs". I said, 10am? Or now? And the man responded now. I said please wait 5 minutes, but am not sure if I was understood or not. Properly covered with all important documents in tow, I made my way downstairs and was ushered into a van.  I was the only one in the van besides the driver and his buddy.  I wondered if there would always be two men escorting me around or if last night and tonight were just special occasions. 

I’m sure you will all be relieved to know that not only have the golden arches made their way over here, but also the Red Lobster (though I doubt I will be partaking in a Lobster fest anytime soon, as  women can only eat in restaurants with their husbands or another male relative). In the light of day, I could see a lot more out the window of the van.  Unfortunately, most of what I saw wasn’t worth looking at.  Everywhere there was new construction, surrounded by mounds of excavated dirt and left over construction rubble.  Everything was shades of tan and brown and no plants anywhere.  The only color being the neon signs on some of the newer buildings.

Eventually we pulled up in front of one of these strip buildings.  I can’t exactly say we parked, as parking, like forming lines, seems to be one of those things that Saudi’s just don’t do well.  Once the spaces in front of a building were taken, the next vehicle to come along would just stop anywhere along the store front.  Sometimes directly behind a parked car, other times perpendicular to several cars.  I sincerely hoped none of the previous parkers needed to get out. The driver and his friend got out, but motioned for me to wait.  I waited.  Eventually they came out again.  As far as I could tell, they had gone in with nothing and come out again with nothing.  I couldn’t read the Arabic sign, or see into the shop, so I have no idea what it is they did. 

We left that shop, and shortly pulled up in front of another building.  Again they motioned for me to wait in the car, which was sticking out at least ¾ into the road.  There were no markings or sign in front, but there was inexplicably a number taped to the glass door. The driver and his lackey went in, came out, and went in again. Finally they came out again, waited a while outside, and went in yet again.  They did this about half a dozen times, sometimes together, sometimes alone.  I couldn’t figure it out, but they seemed very serious about it.   The driver wiped his brow and looking concerned, though I doubt it was for me. I think I was just brought along on the morning errand run. Finally, a woman came out and got into the van with me.  She sat in the very back and did not say anything to me.  I thought she might be one of the teachers too, but she looked Arabic, and unfriendly, so I didn’t say anything.

We finally arrived at the company headquarters.  It was large, well kept, and there was even a small patch of grass with a palm tree out front.  And by small, I mean, the very definition of a postage stamp lawn.  If you were to have a picnic on it, all that would fit would be the basket.  We went inside, and it was just like any large office building in the US.  There was a reception desk, and two staircases going up on either side.  I looked around for some clue about where to go.  I asked the man at the reception desk, but he just looked at me with confusion.  The woman who had come with me in the van said, oh, are you new?  I’ll take you up.  I thanked her and followed her up to the third floor where we were ushered into an office and told to have a seat and wait.  There were two desks, one was empty, and the man at the other desk was standing up shouting into a phone.  A door on the far wall led into a third office. Presumably for the big boss, as he turned several people away from going in.  Apparently, he was in a very important meeting. 

After about 45 minutes of watching the guy at the desk shuffle papers, make more calls, and in general handle more business, all while standing up, he handed me a folder with my contract and paperwork and asked me to look it over.  I reread the contract, and noticed, that instead of the contract ending August 2014, as my copy of the contract that I had signed before coming read, this one said August 2015.  He had left the room and so I couldn't ask him about it.  After another 45 minutes or so, he returned and said he was finally ready for me.  I asked about the end date of the contract, and he said that we had signed the first contract in February, and had I come in February, it would have stayed the same.  But they have a mandatory rollover in the third month, because it is too close to the end of the school year.  He told me that actually it was better for me, because I would still get a ticket home for summer (pro-rated amount of time off, won’t be the normal 30 days since I have not been here long enough) and a return ticket at the end of the year as well, If I had only the August 2014 contract, I would not get the summer paid leave or vacation ticket.  I explained that I was planning to go to graduate school and probably wouldn't come back.  He said that was fine, too.  I can leave whenever I want, I just won’t get the return ticket. I explained that I came under the assumption based on my contract that I could leave at the end of August and get my return ticket.  He said to just use the summer vacation ticket as the return ticket then.

He then showed me the other change to my contract.  Originally, I was supposed to go to Princess Nora University in Riyadh, but they had to change, and were now going to send me to Jouf.  Jouf is in the northern part of Saudi, near Jordan.  It’s a very small place.  I was kind of pleased; I have never been one for big cities, so it was fine with me.  He got me a ticket for the 29^th of April to fly to Jouf.  While he was filling out more paperwork (still standing, even though there was a perfectly good chair behind him) the big boss came over and asked what he was going to do with me.  He said Jouf, and the big boss said Jouf? And then ensued a somewhat heated discussion in Arabic.  Finally the big boss looked up at me and said, how would you like to go to Dammam?  Dammam is on the east coast of Saudi Arabia, near Bahrain.  Now, having never been anywhere in Saudi, one place is more or less like any other as far as I’m concerned, so six of one half dozen of the other. Sure, I said.  He explained that one of their teachers father’s had died, so she was returning home for the funeral, and would not be coming back.  I would be taking her place. 

Turns out, the woman on the van with me, was also headed to Dammam.  She had arrived three weeks earlier and had wanted to stay in Riyadh since she had family here, but there were no openings, so she had finally agreed to go to Dammam, which is relatively close, only three and half or four hours away.  So they worked on getting us tickets.  First they had us flying out on the 28^th.  Then someone said, no, no, the train is better.  They should take the train.  So then they tried to get us tickets for the train on Saturday the 26^th.  There were three trains, one that left at 10am, another at 1pm, and finally a 5pm train.  I thought that the 1pm train would be best, because we would arrive by 5pm, giving us time to settle in before starting work on Sunday. The other woman, Leila, preferred leaving at 5pm, because there was nothing to do anyway and it might be cooler by then. I asked if there was anything to see from the train, and everyone laughed.  Sand, just sand and more sand, they said. Turns out the 1pm train was full anyway.  So we went for the 5pm, but the website wasn't working to book the train, so we left without getting our tickets, with the promise that they would email them to us.

Leila and I made our way back to the van shaking our heads at the new norm of disorganization we were facing.