me for everything. I can't stand her anymore. This morning, once
again she started bragging about her great achievements: “When
I finished high school, nine years ago, I left my family for good.
They live in Edessa, and I haven't seen them ever since. I'm not
like some mollycoddles, who never get any further than their
mother's skirt!” (that was a hint about me: not only do I keep
contact with my parents, but I also live with them) … “You go to
bed at midnight? So early? What a milksop you are! I stay up
and watch TV till three or four o'clock in the morning!” (admire
me, I am a neurasthenic!) ... “You go swimming at the beach of
Voula? That's only a ten-minute ride from your home!” (what a
shame!) . .. “I'm going to succeed in life, my ambitions soar
high; not like you, who will always be a lowly-paid employee!”
she burst out finally.
Alright, she was asking for it. I took a deep breath and started
talking: “Obviously, you think you are my superior here; let me
remind you that in this hotel you and I are exactly in the same
position! And you are five years older than me!” That left her
speechless for a while...
Tuesday, 20th August 1985
All day today Zeta kept on criticizing the way I dress: “Why do
you always wear such clothes? Have you seen anyone else dress
like you?”
“Of course I have! All women dress like me!” I snapped out. I
usually wear dresses, or a blouse with a skirt or trousers. So?
What's so bad about the way I dress? I wondered, rather
irritated.
At that moment Kelly approached us with an enigmatic smile on
her face; I didn't like that, because she always agrees with Zeta.
The two of them walked away together, and talked in low voices
for a few minutes; then they approached me again and installed
themselves on my desk, in a most ostentatious manner. Next
moment they started describing certain pieces of clothing they
had, so as to excite my envy -they are crazy! That ridiculous
bragging lasted about a quarter of an hour. I pretended I wasn't
listening, as I was doing some paper work at that time...
Saturday, 23rd November 1985
It's two months now that I have been out of work. At the end of
September all apprentices from the School of Tourism were fired
from the hotel Carmen, me included. In overall, I can't say I had
a bad time there, especially in comparison with the horrible
experience of Samos. I have been looking for another job ever
since, but I haven't found anything yet.
Aunt Penelope paid us a visit this morning. We were having a
pleasant conversation about summer holidays, when suddenly
she changed the subject:
“So, you don't work in the hotel Carmen anymore...”
“No, I don't; all apprentices were fired two months ago”
“Pity... Anyway, I've been informed that all those who served
their apprenticeship in the hotel Galactic are still there, hired as
permanent employees; and they've kept a beautiful, agreeable
girl at the reception,” she said smiling. I was very disappointed
at the news, but I didn't say anything; I only wondered: How
does my aunt know all this?
Monday, 2nd December 1985
This morning I went to apply for a job in a big travel agency in
Athens. They are looking for an office employee with good
knowledge of English and German. I was optimistic about this
job, because I also have the diploma from the School of Tourism.
Yet, soon my enthusiasm started to wane: Firstly, the personnel
manager made me wait outside his office for an hour, although
he wasn't doing any work. When he finally summoned me to his
office, he seemed to be positive towards me – although he
minced his words regarding the working hours: “This is a full
time job, eight to ten hours per day” (“eight to ten hours” means
“endless hours”) … “We offer the basic salary and we don't pay
overtime” … “This is hard work, it demands intelligence and
eloquence” etc.
I kept saying “yes” to everything, lest I should lose the ideal job.
“One of your duties will be to welcome tourists who come from
abroad,” he went on.
I liked that, because I thought I would be doing this during my
working hours.
“So, you must always be ready to receive a phone call telling
you to go to the airport or the seaport, receive a group of tourists
and take them to their hotel!”
“No problem!” I was beforehand in answering.
“This may happen any time, but it usually happens at night! For
example, we might phone you at 3:00 am and tell you that you
must be at the airport in an hour!
After the first shock, I dared ask: “You mean, after having
worked ten hours in the office, I will have to scour airports and
harbours in the middle of the night, looking for certain groups of
tourists?”
“Exactly, this is how we work here!”
“But I don't even have a car...”
I can't remember what was said afterwards; I was only looking
forward to getting out of there as soon as possible.
Sunday, 8th December 1985
This evening we had an unexpected phone call: It was Mrs
Daphne, an old friend of my mother, who hasn't shown up for
seventeen years. “I am the one who must make the first step to
revive the old friendship,” she said slowly, as soon as my mum
picked up the receiver. After a few moments of surprise, the two
women talked calmly for a while, they made it up again, and Mrs
Daphne ended up: “Yvonne will help Persephone with her
homework, too!”
My mother didn't bear any objections to that, neither did I;
anyway, I have plenty of time and no friends. So, we arranged
for the eleven-year-old Persephone, Mrs Daphne's daughter, to
visit me two or three times a week. She is in the sixth class of
elementary school and she needs help with maths, physics and
Greek language.
Tuesday, 28th January 1986
As months go by, I keep on searching high and low for any job. I
have been to hundreds of companies, applying for any post, even
that of a factory worker. However, no employer has been willing
to hire me so far, despite my new qualifications: The diploma
from the State School of Tourism, my four-month practice as an
assistant receptionist in the hotel Carmen, my good knowledge
of typing, plus my fluent Italian, English and German. The main
problem is that in a society where backstairs influence is
everything, my family is the only one which can pull no strings
at all.
This morning I had a reason to believe that the miracle would
happen: My father took me to a big company in Marousi (a four-
hour commuting), where an old friend of his works as a manager.
“I will talk to him about you; maybe he will hire you as a
secretary,” dad explained to me and I started to hope.
During their conversation, dad was all joy and smiles, but he
didn't utter a word about me. Finally, five minutes before our
leaving, he let drop the brick: “If possible, I would like my
daughter to come here and help you, even without being paid!
All I want, is that she gains some working experience! She can
type fast, she can speak English, Italian and German...”. The
manager agreed smiling, but I froze. Anyway, I will never be
hired in that company, not even unpaid. Fortunately...
This evening Persephone came round and I helped her do her
maths and physics homework. It took us about two hours. When
we finished, we talked about various subjects such as show
business, school, and social problems -as usual. I am really
impressed at Persephone's maturity and cleverness. She is an
agreeable person, with long blond hair and big blue eyes. If she
weren't so obese, she would be very beautiful. Of course, I don't
care about her looks. I have a good time with her, I think we are
ideologically compatible, and she thinks so too. “I like chatting
with Yvonne,” she says to her mother. Sometimes I get tired
because her homework takes us hours, but at least I have a friend
now...
Wednesday, 5th February 1986
In response to an advertisement in the newspaper, regarding a
vacancy for a typist, this morning I went to an office in Athens,
which sends and receives telexes for other companies. It proved
to be a poky, frowsty room without windows, full of big telex
machines, piles of books and lots of dust. The boss was a plump,
grim-looking, smarmy man, whom I didn't like at all. He gave
me a minute examination in typing, English and Italian, he made
many personal questions, he even asked me how often I get
sick! The only thing he didn't examine was my knowledge of
German, because he doesn't know this language. As he told me,
he needs an employee because his permanent secretary is on a
monthly leave of absence. This means that if he hires me, he will
keep me for one month only. However, I wasn't daunted; even
one month of working experience is better than nothing.
Friday, 7th February 1986
The bloke with the telexes called me this morning and told me to
come to his office immediately. I was very happy because I
thought he wanted me to start working at once. However, when I
got there, I found out he was not alone: He was in the company
of a middle-aged lady who proved to be German and started
talking to me in German. I was a little embarrassed because I
didn't expect an oral test, but I think I did quite well. “I will call
you soon,” said the boss finally, but I know that he never will.
The fact is that relatives and neighbours have begun to wonder
about my continuing failure in finding a job: “Such bad luck
with work! Could it be Yvonne's fault?” wondered aunt Penelope
this afternoon, when I told her about my recent adventures...
* * * *
Monday, 17th February 1986Some days ago a new hope for employment appeared
unexpectedly: One of my father's friends has a nephew, who is a
successful accountant with lots of public relations and he will
certainly find a post for me, as he said.
This afternoon, at about 4:00 o'clock, that great nephew phoned
me at last. He introduced himself as Mr Demis Dragonas and he
told me to take a taxi at once and come to the hotel Lyra in
Vouliagmeni. He said he would be waiting for me there till 4:30,
and he insinuated I would be hired immediately as a restaurant
cashier.
Twenty minutes later I arrived at the accounts department of the
hotel Lyra, beaming with optimism. However, it didn't take me
long to understand that Mr Dragonas didn't think very highly of
me: “So, you only have a Certificate of Proficiency in English?
Haven't you studied abroad?” … “Besides, your diploma from
the State School of Tourism is not a university degree” …
“Moreover, you have no working experience” … “This job
requires a lot of sprightliness, I'm not sure if you can do it; of
course, I don't know how high your intelligence quotient is” etc,
etc, etc...
I had almost forgot the above case until today, when I received
an unexpected phone call at 2:00 pm: I jumped for joy when I
heard it was Mr Dragonas, asking me to take a taxi at once and
come to his office in New Faliron, because he was in urgent need
of an assistant in the exports department! I set out without a
second of delay.
Right from the first moment, the mouse-faced Mr Dragonas and
his scarlet wife, Lisa, showed their nasty characters: “You must
know, Yvonne, that every move you make will be watched! Even
how you hold the pen, shows who you are!” … “You must
always do exactly what you are told; as soon as you make the
first mistake, you will be fired on the spot!” … “You have a lot
to learn here! For the first six months you will be an apprentice,
so you will only get a symbolic salary!” … “And remember:
There is a lot of unemployment out there!”. Not only did I say
“yes” to everything, but I also felt extremely lucky that I had
found a job at last...
Friday, 21st March 1986
Ever since I got hired by Mr Dragonas, I have been striving to
meet the incredible demands of my job, as I am responsible not
only for exports but for all kinds of errands as well. Every
evening I return home exhausted and every morning I wake up
tired, feeling that I haven't rested enough. Frankly, I don't know
how I manage to pull through all that work, day in day out.
From 8:00 am to 2:00 pm I do office work or, most of the times,
I run to all public services in the basin of Attiki so as to transact
various bureaucratic formalities. Sometimes the boss gives me
wrong instructions, so I toil in vain and then he gets mad at me.
From 2:00 to 7:00 pm I run to various clients all around Attiki, to
give or take documents. I usually arrive home at 9:00 in the
evening, exhausted and exasperated.
More often than not, I have to wait in endless queues for hours.
Again I get a blasting because, as they tell me, I'm not capable of
getting the job done “cleverly”, that is out of turn: “It's time you
learned how to move in those places! If you had gumption, you
wouldn't get stuck in queues!” yelled Demis this morning
because, according to him, I had wasted too much time in the
Tax Office.
As about Lisa, she spends all the working hours painting her
nails, fixing her make up and admiring herself in her mirror. She
is quite attractive, 20 years younger than her husband, and madly
in love with his money. It is her younger cousin, Mina, who
carries through all the work and treats me more humanely.
Without her, there would be no job done correctly in this office...
Tuesday, 15th April 1986
I'm sick and tired of this all: During all those endless hours I
spend in the office, I am obliged to put up with all kinds of
humiliating remarks, ironic comments or direct insults that often
reach the limits of terrorism.
This morning I happened to make a wrong photocopy and the
big boss flew off the handle: “I just can't believe it! You aren't
capable of doing even the simplest job right! Do me a favour,
Mina,” he turned to his sister-in-law, “You go and make the
correct photocopy, otherwise we won't get that job done!” Then
he turned to me again and groaned: “Listen well: This is the first
and the last time I have tolerated a mistake from you! At the
second mistake you are out of here! Got it?”
“Yes, sir,” I stammered.
“And keep in mind: If you can't cope with this job, you will
never be able to cope with any other job!”
Monday, 21st April 1986
This morning Mr Dragonas arrived at the office at ten o'clock.
He was all nerves, as usual, and he ordered me to bring him
some coffee at once. “Stir it!” he shouted as soon as I left the cup
in front of him. I obeyed with trembling hands. “Again!” he
yelled and I obeyed again.
An hour later, the big boss interrupted me from drawing up a
client's balance (paradoxically, credit never equals debit in these
balances; yet those great accountants I work for consider this
normal) and summoned me to his office. Soon it became clear
that all he wanted was to lecture me about productivity:
“All employees must be equally good and always excel in their
work! A company is like a barrel full of wine: What happens,
Yvonne, if any hoop is damaged?” he asked me with a cunning
smile.
“All the wine will be spilled,” I replied in a low voice, like a
schoolgirl saying the lesson to a strict teacher.
“Correct! That's why you should work even harder, so as not to
be detrimental to our company!” he concluded triumphantly.
“Yes... yes, sir!” I could only stutter.
Anyway, now that I'm thinking better about it, I can see that if a
“hoop” is damaged, not all the “wine” is always spilled. It
depends on how high the damaged hoop is: If it is near the top,
almost no wine will be wasted; however, if the bad hoop is low,
then most of the wine will be wasted. Conclusion: It is the lower
employees who actually run the companies. The higher ones are
mostly decorative...
Tuesday, 6th May 1986
After nine hours of exhausting work in and out of the office, Mr
Dragonas ordered me not to leave but wait for him until he
finished some phone calls. I waited for more than an hour and
then he kept me standing in his office for one more hour,
bombarding me with all kinds of complaints: “You are not as
hardworking as you should be” … “You don't take any
initiatives” … “You are not sprightly enough” … “You are not
quick on the uptake” etc.
When I protested that I work incessantly all day, always doing
my best, he answered disdainfully: “This is not enough! What
you have been doing for us up to now is only a drop in the ocean,
in comparison with what you should be doing! And don't forget!
There is a lot of unemployment out there! I want you to promise
me that from now on you will be working harder and faster!”
“I will, sir” I replied.
If I had disagreed to anything, he would have never let me go
home.
Wednesday, 7th May 1986
Obviously, all that performance had only one purpose: to
terrorize me, and it did: This morning I was feeling frightened
just at the thought of going to the office.
“As soon as you came in, her blood ran cold!” I heard Lisa
telling him.
“No kidding! She was scared stiff!” agreed the dragon
malignantly.
The only thing that made me feel a little better, was the fact that
a little later Demis called his wife in his office and hauled her
over the coals! Only that she wasn't so submissive as I was: “If
you don't like the way I work, you had better hire a qualified
accountant! One who will ask for a salary!” she retorted, which
made him shut up for a while.
Friday, 9th May 1986
This is the last day for the submission of tax returns. From now
on there won't be so much work to do, so I might calm down a
little. So, I was unpleasantly surprised when Mr Dragonas
summoned me to his office late in the afternoon, as I was getting
ready to leave. Here comes another blowing-up, I feared.
However, as soon as I got into his office, Demis started praising
my qualifications and my efficiency, only to conclude that he
was “unfortunately” obliged to fire me on the spot because he
could no longer afford my tidy salary, which till then I had no
idea how high (or low) it was.
Anyway, I can't say I wasn't expecting it at all: For days now I've
suspected that Lisa wishes to take my position. It was only
yesterday when I heard her say that she is usually in charge of
the exports department and that she prefers running on errands to
spending her hours in the office. Nevertheless, she certainly
wouldn't fancy running here and there like crazy during the peak
season (from the beginning of March till today), when there is so
much frenzy with the tax returns. For that hectic period they
hired me to pull the chestnuts from the fire.
Finally, I got half of the basic salary as a reward for my services.
Not so bad; I thought that the “symbolic salary” would be much
lower. It goes without saying that I got no stamps at all. In the
end, Demis assured me that he was very pleased with me and
that if he ever needed an assistant in the future, he would hire no
one else but me.
Monday, 9th June 1986
Miracles do happen: A week ago I finally managed to find a part
time job (two days a week, three hours each time) as a
correspondent in the company “Kyriakides Bros SA”, which
imports auto spare parts from Italy.
For a couple of days I kept on looking for something better, but
this morning I got a revolutionary idea: Quit searching for a full
time job and make do with my part time job and the housework,
which takes me hours every day. Frankly, I'm sick and tired of
looking for work in the classified ads, begging the bosses to hire
me as an underpaid slave. Besides, there is no real financial
need, since my father gets a good pension as a retired captain
and my personal expenses are pretty limited: I neither demand
flashy clothes, nor go out to cafeterias, discos, clubs etc. As
about stamps, I'll think about what I can do about it. In any case,
there is no lack of money in our home. So, why worry? Anyway,
what will be will be. As soon as I came up with that wonderful
idea, I started feeling a lot better...
Monday, 16th June 1986
Last Friday I bought a newspaper on the spur of the moment.
When I got home, I had a quick look at the classified ads and I
immediately noticed the following advertisement: “Secretary
needed urgently by an import company in New Smyrna.
Candidates must be fast in typing and fluent in Italian and
English. No working experience required”.
The phrase “no working experience required” was what made
me answer to the above advertisement. I went there for an
interview right away and despite my initial pessimism the boss, a
polite man who introduced himself as Mr Lucas Zafirakis, finally
agreed to hire me full time, starting from today! He offers the
basic salary and stamps -I'm talking about luxury! I can hardly
believe it!
The company is called Vinomec and imports wining machinery
from Italy. I managed to get the position of secretary because I
was the only candidate able and willing to listen to a text in
Greek and simultaneously type it in English or Italian.
According to the boss, all the other girls he had seen, most of
them with university degrees from England or Italy, had either
messed up everything or refused to do such a demanding test.
December 1986
The first months at work rolled on smoothly, without serious
problems; those started to appear later. In general, Mr Zafirakis
is a quiet and good-hearted person, but my job is extremely
demanding: Apart from a typist and a telephone operator, I am
also in charge of imports and I sub for the boss when he is
absent. Besides, I am always under the watchful eye of Mrs
Stasa: She is Lucas' mother-in-law, who first appeared in the
office the same day I was hired -obviously to keep a discreet
The job requires a great sense of responsibility, careful
manipulations, risky initiatives and specialized knowledge not