The Lemon Life | online magazine offering a fresh perspective on post-grad life.

Words by: Adina Siperman

Image by: Saul Adereth

There is no vocational experience more eye-opening and more alienating than applying for a job in another country.  After a series of ego-crushing, soul-sucking, mind-numbing jobs in Toronto, I decided to pack my bags and find employment in another area code.  I was invited by a friend to move to Tel Aviv, Israel.  Seeing as I already spoke Hebrew and could easily envision a work day followed by a trip to the beach, I readily accepted.

And so I arrived – with my North American arrogance, thinking that my paltry saving of Canadian dollars could last in a city as fast paced as Tel Aviv.  Within the first week, I blew more than half of my bank account on astronomical rent, overpriced cocktails and sandy beach chairs.  My need for employment came a lot quicker than I had anticipated.

So I sat down at the computer and began searching the Israeli job postings.  Right from the go, I knew I was treading in unfamiliar waters.  Every job, in one way or another, was connected to the hi-tech industry.  While job postings for nannies, waiters and English teachers totaled in the hundreds, jobs in hi-tech tallied in the thousands.  For the first week, I roamed the job ads, ignoring any listing in which was written computer, SEO or internet-savvy.  I scanned and searched for the postings that I had become so acquired to as a freelance writer.  I was determined to write for anything, – ergonomic furniture magazines, toy marketing companies, gay vampire internet porn sites (I speak from experience) – but hi-tech companies.  But apparently Israel’s gay vampire community is not as interested in pornography as we are in Canada.

After two expensive weeks of fruitless searching, I decided to bite the bullet and send my CV (resume is so North America) to various Israeli hi-tech and startup companies.  Where my phone didn’t ring for two weeks with the offers of jobs I was unqualified for, all of the sudden it began to ring off the hook.  It seemed that Israeli computer engineers were excellent at writing programming code and clueless when it came to English websites on their programming.  I learned that these companies were not really interested in internet-savvy; they knew every crack and crevice of the worldwide web.  What they were really seeking was a native English speak who was bullshit-savvy.  For that, I was abundantly qualified.

I arrived at the interview in classic Canadian job interview apparel –  a white button up shirt, black pants and flats.  I arrived to a small office with only the computers’ wallpaper photos as an attempt at décor.  The CEO of the five-man operation greeted me at the door, tank topped and Croc-ed.  I was invited to sit down on the lawn chair set before his desk of computer monitors and empty Red Bull cans.

“So, Adina, I see that you are a writer in Canada.”

I sat up a little bit straighter in the chair and answered, “Yes.  In fact I am.  I have quite a bit of experience working as a copywriter in a marketing…”

“I googled you and found an article that you wrote for a magazine.  The Lemon Life?  It was something about you and sex with your professors.”

The blood instantly rushed to my cheeks and my palms began to sweat, despite the air conditioning blasting at my back.

“Well…um…,” I stuttered.

“Were you trying to be funny?  Was that article supposed to be funny?”

I squirmed against the green plastic.  ”Uh, sort of.  Yes.  I try to incorporate humour…”

“I see.”  And for a full forty-five seconds he just sized me up and said nothing.  ”On what beach was your Facebook profile picture taken?”

“Uh…Hilton beach?”

My answer was followed by another forty-five second staredown.

“Listen, Adina, this is what we are going to do.  You start working here.  We try it out and reassess in a couple weeks.”

“I am not really sure what the job entails.”

“We will figure that out as we go.  Congratulations.  You start Sunday.”

And just like that, I became gainfully employed in another area code.  Today is Saturday; I start the new job tomorrow.  As with any job, I am a little bit nervous, but if there is one thing I know I am looking forward to, it is casual Fridays – five days a week.

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