On the Trail of Gainful Employment

I had been in Mallorca for; um let’s see now – about a day; before the initial rosy glow started wearing a little thin.

After that first delirious evening, I climbed into bed fully expecting not to be able even to close my eyes; only to wake ten hours later after a deep and dreamless sleep. I breakfasted on freshly made ensaïmada (a local pastry) from the bakery and then got down to a serious spot of job-hunting. No problemo…

Except there was a problemo, and quite a serious one at that: contrary to my naive expectations, very few Spaniards speak much English and my Spanish… well. Nada de nada.

With every failed attempt at conversation, my face fell a little further. This, I’m sure, did nothing to improve my chances so I decided to call it a day (admittedly it was only 12 o’clock but heck, I was only eighteen and staying power really wasn’t my thing in those days). So I took myself, and my downcast countenance off for a spot of lunch and a bit of a think.

The rest of that long afternoon and evening saw me sitting on my balcony amid a sea of dictionaries and phrase books as I frantically tried to memorize at least a small handful of useful vocabulary. I finally fell into a tormented slumber, only to wake at 5am with disjointed snippets of Spanish phrases circulating wildly around my mind.

At 9 o’clock, and after another delicious ensaïmada, I was off out again. Preferring the look of the air-conditioned offices dotted around the town, as opposed to the exhausting-looking restaurants, I began my search there.

It was a bad plan.

I realised that as soon as I marched into the first real estate agency situated close to the apartment. The impeccably dressed sales lady looked almost offended I stood there damply in my shorts and sandals. She listened snootily as I stammered my way through my request; which sounded more and more absurd, even to my own ears.

‘Usted no habla español.’

‘Um… Sí! I mean… No! Sorry, what did you say?’

‘I say you no speak Spanish.’

‘No, not really. But I’m a very quick learner!’

‘You work in estate agency before?’

‘No.’

‘You work in office before?’

‘No.’

‘You speak German?’

‘No.’ Her raised eyebrow said it all. I scooped my bruised ego up from the floor, and crept back out onto the baking pavement. Determined not to be disheartened, I decided to avoid offices, at least until my Spanish was better than that particular lady’s English.

Hotels were next on my list, but here I encountered another problem. Although the tourist season was by no means in full swing – it was still early May – all the seasonal hiring had been done months ago. It was starting to look as though I had missed the employment boat. I tramped from hotel to hotel, only to be greeted with the same Latin shrugs and expansive hand gestures that translated into a resounding NO.

I confess I was starting to panic. Heaven only knows why I had imagined it would be easy; I was far from being the most employable of people even in my own country. I put it down to a brief overdose of juvenile optimism, possibly exacerbated by too much sun.

Eventually I ran out of hotels to approach, so the restaurants had become the targets of my onslaught. The fourth one I walked into was at the other end of Puerto Alcúdia. Inexplicably named “El Molino” (The Windmill – I looked it up in my dictionary before going in), it was situated on the bank of a small canal. A large terrace stretched right down nearly to the water’s edge.

I was quite astonished when they agreed to employ me. They explained, in broken English, that the Italian waitress, who had also come to Mallorca to learn Spanish, was shortly due to return to Milan to start her degree at university, and they therefore required a replacement.

Eureka! We parted with a handshake and an agreement that I should begin the following day at midday which would give me enough time to buy the requisite white shirt and black skirt. I burst back out into the sunshine and almost skipped down the street.

It seemed that my Spanish life was finally going to begin, and I could barely contain my excitement.