Job seeker’s diary

If you have a job, treat it like gold. And show your boss some respect. Walking the hills and valleys of this country looking for a job is no easy feat, and your boss saved you that hassle, so if you can afford to, buy him or her coffee sometime. There’s a way people look at you once they learn you’re jobless. Suddenly, it’s like you’re worthless and in a way, you are. But that’s not all. There’s a stability having a job gives you that we jobless folks lack. Having gainful employment builds your confidence. Even on the social scene, girls like dating men with jobs. The guys too prefer hanging out with working class girls. No one wants a leech for a girlfriend especially in these credit crunch times where every franc counts. Speaking of leeches, I feel so guilty that I am not yet in position to contribute much at home. I would feel more comfortable if I could buy a few necessities once in a while. Jane must be cursing why she took me in. To make matters worse, we got more visitors who seem like they will be staying for a while. What this means is more spending on Jane’s part and I can see her feeling the pinch given that none of the visitors work either. Things must not be going well for Spencer, my jobless neighbour. For the last couple of days, he’s been a regular “visitor” at meal times. I marvel at his boldness, much as I’ve “tapped” many meals myself. I don’t know how he does it but he’s always on time for lunch and dinner. And after eating, he mutters something about a programme on radio he needs to catch or gives some excuse and then leaves. Somehow, all this makes me feel less guilty about my non-support, if I can call it that. Jane seems to have found a solution to feed the “army.” For many days now, we’ve been eating Obugali and a tasteless green vegetable whose name I haven’t yet learnt to pronounce. The dish is new to me and I must say it’s not one many people fancy, unless of course you are needy like us. As for sugar, can’t remember the last time there was any at home so it’s unsweetened tea and porridge all the time. It all reminds me of boarding school. Away from that, I don’t need to tell you how desperately my job search has been this week. So desperate that the other day, I found myself in a publishing house, not quite sure what my reply would be when asked how I could be helped. Sure enough, a clerk approached me and I told her I wanted a job only to be told there wasn’t any and that in fact, the firm doesn’t need that many workers because there’s really little to do. “Isn’t anyone pregnant and so about to go on maternity leave?” I asked desperately. This drew laughter from her. “Most of our staff are male so no, none is pregnant,” she replied, adding that if they needed someone, they would surely advertise. Like always, I didn’t give up. I walked right to the next building, and the next, asking the same question, “Do you have any jobs?” The answer was always the same, a curt “no”. Then I met an interesting mzungu. It was a chance meeting really, in one of the big supermarkets. No I hadn’t gone shopping. I was just wandering through the aisles, sort of like window shopping so that when I get money, I know what to buy and from where. The mzungu and I hit off immediately and before I knew it, we were exchanging contacts. A few calls later, he gave me directions to his home, and the next day, I visited. He stays with other expatriates in a lavish home where he also has an office. He asked what I can do and gave me a list of contacts I can try. “But in the mean time, you can run some errands for me, that is if you don’t mind,” he said. Was he kidding? Of course I didn’t mind. I could wash dogs or his socks if it meant I would earn some money at the end of the day. Simon, my mzungu new “employer” said my work would mainly involve delivering mail, scheduling meetings, making calls to clients, buying supplies and such tasks whenever there was need. For that, he would give me transport and lunch. I didn’t ask how much that would be. Guess I’ll ask after my first round of errands. To be continued…