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I was temporarily unemployed, and raising a two-year-old was not helping my chances. Circumstances were pressing, and I gave myself a week to find a job. On Day Six I was in the backyard of the main university building, talking to my friend, when a person interrupted us, apparently checking on my friend’s whereabouts. A homeless-looking woman who, in my opinion, had not had shower in days and laundry since she borrowed her garments from a second-hand store give-away event who knows when.
After a quick very excited introduction (which is worth a whole book in itself), Sveta admitted she overheard the last part of a conversation, and if it was true – and I was really looking for a job – would I please kindly go inside, right now, with her. I was less than certain – she did not even look safe to trust (an image of my two-year-old flashed in my head), but my friend gave me a reassuring nod, and I agreed.
Sveta was leading me along a stretch of well-known auditoriums, apparently to the philological department. “Under no circumstances,” she said, “do you say anything! You understand?” Well, I did.
We stopped before the door labeled “Dean,” she knocked and we entered before there was any audible response.
The Dean, a noble looking patriarch, was on the phone at his desk. Sveta addressed him: “V.N., we were looking for a computer genius for our web-lab.” The Dean pointed to his ear without turning to us. It was an important call.
Sveta apparently took that for encouragement and continued: “Well, we found one. She knows everything about computers and can start immediately”. I was burning with shame and humiliation: I was not a computer wizard at all, I had only ever seen a computer in a picture. I could not muster any words, and was hoping he would never be able to identify me later by voice. I shrank and wanted to disappear.
The Dean waved at her dismissively, and still not turning to us, continued on with his conversation.
Sveta, for some reason, looked extremely satisfied. “Come tomorrow at 9 am”, she said after we left the office. “I can’t! I’ve never even seen a computer!” She smiled and said that I graduated from the biology department, and thus I would be more than capable. And I left. I was almost running back out. My friend was gone. I was sure this all was some sort of a joke, and was happy to forget about this rather unnerving event.
Next morning, I dropped my daughter off at kinder care, and came back home to catch up on sleep. Around 10 in the morning, the phone rang. Sveta was asking me why I was not at work. “Come right up, and we will do all the paperwork so you can get started.” In less than 20 minutes I, now a junior researcher (Department of Russian Language and Literature), I was observing my first office setting. My owe had evaporated, and I was thrilled to begin. In a few days, I knew everything available at that time about web design, became responsible for educational web-portal design and maintenance as well as electronic book publishing.
But my biggest and most secret pride was that I was finally able to use a mouse.