Resigning: Day 4

This morning Wajda and I were joined on the morning bus by Jennifer from Texas. We tried inform her of what she was in for without scaring her so that she could at least go into her experience with the company with eyes wide open. When we got there, Mohammed wasn't in yet.  Faisal said he came in late a lot, and probably wouldn't be around before noon. Jennifer got her contract and read it over.  I was holding my breath.  I wanted to tell her not to do it.  I wanted to say, get out now while you have the chance!  Instead I just cringed and said a silent prayer that everything would work out well for her as I watched her sign her life away.

Driving around the PNU campus

After she signed, there was nothing she could do without Mohammed.  Wajda needed to return a laptop she had been given by Princess Nora University before she left on Sunday to start work in Al Jouf.  She asked if Jennifer would like to go with her since more than likely she would be working there.  Jennifer said sure, and I asked if I could tag along also.  I knew there would be no news before 3pm, and seeing where I might have been working would be a lot better than sitting around the office all day.  Wajda said no problem and the three of us went downstairs and one of the drivers agreed to take us to PNU.  It took about 30 minutes to get to the campus and then another 10 or 15 to drive around the perimeter and find the right gate.  PNU is so large that it has 10 entrance gates and a monorail that goes around the whole campus to help students get from one area to the other.  We were dropped off at the main gate for employees which has a huge fountain in front. Inside the walls all the streets are lined with palm trees. The sudden switch from the dull tan of the surrounding area makes the green inside PNU seem like paradise.

No Men Allowed

We got out and asked the driver to wait just 15 minutes while she returned the laptop. A huge sign in front of the door made sure everyone knew this was a no man zone. Inside the building was crowded with girls waiting to take placement tests, sitting in long rows Indian style like we used to in gym class. This was orientation week and classes would begin the following week, so there was a lot going on. Wajda led us through the security and upstairs, then out across a patio to another building and then upstairs again through a long hallway of classrooms and then finally to the faculty offices. Everything was clean and new and had a nice sleek design. the colors were orange and silver and cream and it was a strange mix of modern and old style Arabic geometric designs. the classrooms were smaller than I would have thought, and we passed at least two prayer rooms on our way to the offices.

 Jennifer and I sat on some orange couches to wait while Wajda returned the laptop. She wasn't gone long before she came back down the hallway she had disappeared to and passed us to go down the opposite way. a few minutes after that, she passed us again, going back the other way. Finally she came back a third time. It reminded me of watching everyone in the company offices going upstairs and downstairs and back again, bouncing from one office to the next. I guess I hadn't escaped the hectic office after all. The woman she needed to return it to was in a meeting and no one else wanted to take responsibility for the laptop. So she would have to wait for her to come out of a meeting. Wajda called the office to let the driver know he didn't have to wait.

Monorail around PNU's Campus

Wajda & Jennifer take pictures
of the clock tower.

I suggested that we take a ride on the monorail while we waited. So we went upstairs to the platform and got on the train. It only had two cars, but it was really neat. The track was raised above the whole campus at least 2 maybe 3 stories high and made a giant oval. We passed the library and the clock tower and even a whole mini-suburb where the Arabic teachers lived. This place had everything.

Mini -city inside PNU campus, complete with mosque, grocery store and teacher & student housing.

After we finished our loop tour, there was still no word from the woman Wajda needed to return the laptop to, so we went to the food court, which was actually three stories worth of food and even had a pharmacy and a small supermarket. It was incredible. But the best part was something called the tranquil rooms. These were a series of circular rooms lined with soft benches and pillows with a TV on one wall and little curtains over each doorway. They looked inviting and calming, and I peaked in one and saw three girls laying down with legs and arms dangling over the edge of the benches. I couldn't think of a better name for these rooms than tranquil rooms, and I wished we had one in Dammam. But then again, it would always be full and then people would be fighting over them, which wouldn't be tranquil at all so maybe it wasn't such a good idea after all.

We went back to the office again and this time someone told Wajda where the meeting was, so she went off to find the woman and we sat back down on the orange couches to wait. By thins time I was getting anxious to get back to the office and find out what was happening with my passport. About a half an hour later Wajda returned laptop free, and we downstairs to see if there was a driver or call and wait for one to come if there wasn't. Surprisingly, our driver was still there waiting for us. Apparently, he never got the message from the main office. We felt bad for making him wait, but I suspect he was perfectly content to do so. He had been taking a nap with the engine on to run the AC. We had been gone almost 4 hours. It doesn't seem to matter much here how much gas you use because the petrol costs almost nothing.

By the time we got back to the office Mohammad had turned up and had a line of people waiting. Eventually it was my turn. By now it was almost 3:30 and the office closed at 4pm. I asked him for the news and he told me it still wasn't ready. I asked him If I could have my passport then and we went upstairs together to the government relations office, but they told him my passport was still out with the company representative. I told Mohammad I wanted it back, and he told me that it was too late, the guy couldn't get back to the office before 4pm. He said it was better this way anyway because then the guy could go with it first thing in the morning and try to get it done one more time. I was so frustrated. "You promised me I could have it back today, Mohammad." He shrugged and said, "Tomorrow, inshallah." I was worried that if he said inshallah to me one more time I might either burst into tears or hit him in the face. I asked him if we could at least take care of all the other paperwork for leaving tomorrow, even if we didn't get the exit visa, that way I wouldn't have to come back to Riyadh next week and could just be finished. He said lets see, and led me across the hall to the finance department.

The guy in charge of the Dammam finances was praying at the moment so we couldn't see him. While we waited for him to come back, I made Mohammad promise again that he would get my passport back for me tomorrow, with or without an exit visa or an iqama. He promised me again, but by now, his word wasn't worth much to me. It was worth even less when the finance guy returned from prayer and Mohammad asked him about my situation. For my benefit he asked him in English if everything could be settled by Sunday, then he switched to Arabic. I don't know much Arabic but I have managed to learn the days of the week, and I will tell you the word I kept hearing Mohammad say to the finance guy was not Sunday, but Tuesday. The finance man gave a couple of short nods and a noncommittal shrugs, and then Mohammad turned to me and said, "Sunday, it should be easy. You will be paid anyway because it is the end of the month, so it will be simple." I was out of energy to fight and out of time. It was already 4pm and I didn't want to miss the bus back to the hotel.

At the hotel, I met Sara, who was another woman whose iqama hadn't been processed, and another teacher whose name I don't remember. We commiserated for a while together in the lobby, and eventually decided to move our rants upstairs to one of their apartments for tea. We had earl gray and smoked shisha and traded war stories. Sara had previously lived in both Afghanistan and Iraq, and she said that even though they were developing countries, and Saudi was first world, our company was far more disorganized and less efficient than anything she had experienced over there. The latest scandal was that the company had decided not to pay people for their Eid vacations even though before the vacation, they sent emails saying they would be paid. Also, they were planning on moving them out of this very nice hotel soon because apparently the company was several months behind on the rent for the building. I really don't know how this company is still in business. Eventually, we said goodnight, and they supplied me with soap and tea and food to take with me since I had come with nothing. I told them I would really only be here one more night, but they insisted, saying that I would probably be stuck here forever. They said it with a smile, as if they were joking, but we all knew there was more truth to it than any of us were comfortable with. They invited me to come up anytime if I needed anything, and told me they would be happy to take me out if I was still there this weekend. I thanked them, but insisted with more confidence and hope than I felt, that I would be headed back to Dammam tomorrow night.