The EFM Work Situation: Post Two

The following are two different views on what it's like to be an Eligible Family Member (EFM) with experience in two posts and one extended FSI training stint. I've edited my husband's words only a teenie bit, but I wanted to present them semi-raw so you all could hear his voice, instead of translated through my thoughts. For more views on the subject, look to the list on the lower right for other EFM blogs. 

She says:
One of the most challenging parts of a life in the Foreign Service is considering what the lives of your children/spouse/partner/pets will be like. My husband and I came into this new chapter of our lives each 100% on board with the idea of living abroad and moving every two to three years. It has been something we've always wanted, so there was no convincing or pleading with him i.e. "Guess what honey, I just joined the Foreign Service and that means that you'll be moving to..."  

However, even given this nicely-set stage, the road has been far more difficult for him, and therefore us, than expected. It started with a five-month separation as I trained to be an OMS in Washington before Post #1. His eventual arrival was followed by six months of frustrating unemployment as he applied for every job he qualified for at the Embassy, to no avail. (If you'd like, you can read about this time in my first posting on the subject here, and the second posting here.) As an experienced high school teacher, he was able to tutor American children from the Embassy community after school, which was good work, but certainly not full time. Finally, with a one-month intensive training program under his belt, he found work teaching English to executives in Bogota. He had steady work, although again not full time, a sense of an independent life with new friends outside of our Embassy community, and he got to know more about Colombian life from his students. Well paying? Not really, but that wasn't the point. Unfortunately, he was just settling into his routine when we got the call to return to FSI for my A-100 course. 

During the six months I was at FSI, he was able to take the basic Consular course ("ConGen") for six weeks, plus a Mexican border area studies course for one week and a smattering of day-long family-member classes. He decided not to pursue the offer of a long-time substitute teacher position at the local school district in exchange for the potential long-term benefits of having the ConGen credential, which is good for five years. 

We've now been in Juarez for four months, and I'm very happy to report that he has found work at the Consulate after three months of frustrating and seemingly senseless bureaucracy. Three months may sound like a short time to wait for a good, full-time job, but please don't forget that he hadn't been working since we left Bogota last July. So really the waiting was ten months and was further compounded by the still-fresh memory of what the seven months of applying, interviewing, waiting, waiting some more, and finally being disappointed felt like. Yes, his gamble of turning down the paying work in Virginia paid off in that he is capitalizing on the ConGen investment now, but that was truly a gamble. His job within the Consular section is interesting, he's learning things he never knew before and will soon be cashing a regular paycheck. Our sections are far enough apart that we don't bump into each other at work all day, and he's learning things I don't know about, which can make for more interesting dinner conversation. 

In looking ahead to Post #3, which I'm always doing even though we're only 12.5% of the way through this current tour, he's already saying that he doesn't know if he can stomach another six plus months at FSI without work. Learning a new language will take at least that long, so either we stick with English or Spanish-speaking posts, therefore really limiting our horizons, or I risk the negative effects of a severely bored and under-utilized spouse pacing an Oakwood apartment for months on end (something the cats are voting for - they like the company). And what if our next post requires learning a one-country language, like Greek, or Azeri, or Finnish? With few sections offered for these "boutique" languages, spouses often have a hard time getting a space-available-basis seat in class and therefore have to head to post with zero or little language ability to their new country. Or, if he were to be offered language training, he'd have weigh being employed temporarily in Virginia (if possible) with the benefits of being able to speak whichever language. 

In any compromise such as this, there are going to be things that turn out less-than-ideal, and people who have to sacrifice. Having a family means making sure that the sacrifice isn't always on their side. My day dreams of serving one post in each of our bureaus and living in wintry lands, deserty lands, tropical islands, bustling metropolises and places that nobody has heard of - all in my Consular cone - will probably not come to fruition. That's just part of the package of having a family in the Foreign Service. 

One of my coworkers, whose wife lives in the US and continues her career while he serves in Mexico, told me that once he gets his next bid list, he plans to cross off all the posts where the timing won't work for his transfer schedule and then send the list to her to pick her favorites. I think he's onto something in making that plan, and offering the proverbial "trailing spouse" some of control over this life is a wise choice. 

We're hoping that the warnings of our more-experienced FS friends are true: that the first posts are the hardest for spouses as they try to gain work experience and training that will grease the wheels for further jobs. We look forward to having two paychecks again, and for him to feel more of an equal part of this equation. 

My recommendation to anyone still on the outside and considering coming in is to please consider all these things before thinking about dragging a perfectly nice spouse/partner/family off into this life, as it really only gets more, not less, complicated. Complicated does not necessarily mean "worse," just not as straightforward and simple as perhaps your life now/previous life. I'm confident that in the end, when the day-to-day frustrations and gripes have faded, like the memories of how much you love eating hot dogs and then riding the county fair roller coaster, we'll say it was all worth it. Then we'll drag out another photo album and bore you with more stories of places and faces all over the world...

He says:

I would add that while you (the FSO) arrive at a new post and start working on day one, it seems typical that a spouse, even if there is a job opening just fortuitously waiting for them, still has to spend the weeks or months applying, interviewing, and waiting for the local HR to give them the go-ahead.  

I would also say that the lucky spouses have something truly independent and/or telework related. We have friends whose spouses are continuing their work editing magazines, translating documents, and selling high-end bicycle parts. And I often reflect even now on how I would probably be enjoying the roving-around lifestyle more if I felt more connected to the local culture, e.g. working on the local economy, which is actively, if not passively, discouraged and discouraging.  And how (even though you don't tolerate me saying) that as an EFM you are never really "in the club" among the consulate/embassy FSOs and the whole FS culture.  Hence the popularity of our lunchtime "bored meetings" with the other unemployed EF-Men while you all were at work. The Family Liaison Office and Community Liaison Office (CLO) and everyone tries to help as they can and be hail-fellow-well-met, but when the rubber meets the road, EFMs are looked over.  I think that's a holdover from the Julia Child days of planning cocktail parties for the husbands and important guests.

I think it's good for EFMs to have a long list of "well, I could...."

I could teach English: few jobs at low pay

OK, I could volunteer at local charities and missions: but not in the city's danger zones - you know, where most the charities are.

OK, I could take the separate maintenance allowance and live and work in El Paso: why even be in the FS?

OK, I can just keep house and explore: and go broke and clinically depressed

OK, I can just focus on raising the kids....oh wait, ours are already in college.

I'm happy to have the job because I need the money and mental distraction, but I can't say I'm overjoyed at getting secretary-butt doing 40 hours a week of data-entry. It bugs me to think I am losing what little Spanish I had, and looking at the prospect of learning about my surroundings only through happy hours and CLO events.  Waah-waah--I guess what I'm saying is that it really takes an effort, not just for EFMs but for all, to work at reaching out and making some memories outside the consulate and knowing people besides the other Americans.

Bottom line is that it's easier with lowered expectations, putting pride and careers aside, and just doing whatever, wherever.  Another bottom line is that it seems that 8 out of 10 EFMs have hard-luck stories, but that they are all very different hard luck stories.  It's different for everyone depending on their background, their expectations, their character, and then how lucky they get.

What kind of hors d'oeuvres would you like for your friends tonight, honey?

The Airing of Grievances

Sub-Title: More Realities of Life in Long-Term Training

Boy, I bet that title is going to garner a lot of enthusiasm! Hey, let's read about somebody else's whining and moaning - woo hoo! But the time comes when even the ugly side of just about anything should be revealed so that when it happens again - or for some of you, for the first time - you can see that you're not the only one and that it will pass; that life will cycle through to the highs again. As a fortune cookie once told me, "You must taste the bitter to recognize the sweet." (But it also gave me a bunch of lottery numbers that turned out NOT to be so lucky, thus casting doubt upon the wisdom of the fortune itself.)

Anyway - greeting from FSI and la semana muerta. 

That's right, the dead week, and yes - that's what it's called in the Spanish Department. Nice way to describe the holidays, eh? What it means is that during the week of Christmas up until January 2nd, no classes shall progress. With so many students and teachers away for the holidays, FSI figured that it wouldn't be fair if the classes continued with their curriculum while the other students were away. But they also couldn't force us all to take vacation time, and with so many of the instructors being contractors, that would equate to a forced furlough without pay. So, this was their compromise: all students who are not taking annual leave will come to FSI every day like normal, but instead of heading for class, they will develop a self-study plan and work on their own. We have to sign in each morning and again eight hours later before heading home. We see our teachers in the hallways (those who haven't headed to Peru, Guatemala or Colombia to see their families), but we're forbidden to exchange more than pleasantries with them to avoid the appearance that they're helping us and therefore are giving one student an advantage of extra instruction over another.  My most recent teacher warned that she could be fired on the spot for doing this during la semana muerta. I don't know if that's true or not, but I'm not about to risk it by chatting with her. 

So teachers are holed up in the offices and students are wandering the halls like ghosts coming back to haunt the place, looking for a good spot to spread out to read, review their text books, nap, practice conjugating verbs or watch CNN on the classroom SmartBoard - you name it. I've been reading articles online, watching movies in Spanish (and reading the English subtitles), going through units in my Consular Spanish course, chatting with classmates in the cafeteria and generally just  burning time. 

Where's the frustrating part, you say? Because for those of us with precious few weeks left before we take our exam, this time feels like a big backslide. While my classmates and I often make the effort to chat together in Spanish, none of us is really going to correct the other in casual conversation. I mean really, who likes a friend who says, "habia, not hubo, remember you're giving background information here." right? So we end up speaking a version of Spanish like twinspeak, the language that some twins develop among themselves that is based mostly on, "well, you know what I mean!" 

Just before the holidays, I was moved from my usual class to a group of more advanced students. My previous class was breaking apart with people completing their training and taking their tests, so I wasn't surprised to receive a new assignment. This new class is working above the level of my previous one, and it is a real stretch to keep up with them. The classroom dynamic is tangibly different too, with two clear pet students who have been with the teacher quite a while. Then ole' "what's your name again?" joined the group. Yes, that was me up until Thursday when the teacher was finally able to come up with my name without doing the "It's on the tip of my tongue, don't tell me!" gesture with her index finger. I think it was the combination of the stress of the new group, the holidays and all the pressure that brings and probably a good dose of hormones that put me into a real funk and took me to the ladies room to dry my eyes and make sure my mascara wasn't trickling down my cheeks more than once. For any of you headed to language training: get ready. You'll either feel or witness this, believe me. Yes, it's a stereotype, but many women students will cry at least once during their training, and I've seen the guys get ranting, swearing, and fist-slamming-on-desk frustrated. It just happens. That's why I'm writing this: to let y'all know that this stuff just happens. It's not all deep thoughts and the glow that comes with internal growth and greater knowledge to better the world. It's also feeling like an idiot, feeling embarrassed, feeling proud, feeling sharp and clever, feeling superior to others who are still struggling and then crying in the ladies room. 

The above is just the gripes of my life as a student, as the employee. Let me turn the  spotlight a moment to what the spouses/families are going through during long-term training, too:

There are the lucky ones who manage to find work, or keep former jobs from a distance, and can lead a more "normal" existence is this land of limbo. And many get to visit the land of their own peaks and valleys that is language training. While most of the kids are in school, they're also having to make new friends, or feel the pain of not doing so. But there are many spouses who can't work because "we'll only be here three months," or who had to leave behind good jobs in wherever they came from. They are now hostage to this life, cooped up in a small apartment for four, five, seven, nine, even twelve months. Many watch their spouses head purposefully off to training each day, hear about it over dinner, but don't get to take part themselves. My husband was fortunate to have had eight weeks of training in various courses this year, and has been working on his own Spanish training online, but that still leaves four months of "unscheduled time" for him. The first month may feel like a vacation, but the last three are anything but. 

When we arrived it was summer, and days exploring museums or poolside with paperbacks kept him happily busy. But now it gets light at 7:30 and dark just after 5:00. Big, wet flakes are drifting to the ground in one of our first snowfalls and there's only so many classic movies on AMC one can watch. Many carefully, professionally worded e-mails (with attached updated resumes, for your review) have gone unanswered as he tries to be proactive about finding work at our new post. Like bank robbers promising themselves that it will all be better when they make "just one last score, Bobby!", we find ourselves thinking that as soon as we get to Juarez, it will all be better. But without saying it, I'm certain we're also both worrying that Juarez might be a replay of the first six months in Bogota (lest we forget the lessons learned and described here). With young kids to raise, a husband or wife can be exhausted and starving for adult conversation at the end of the day. Without children, the same spouse is simply bored, frustrated and waiting. Waiting for the chance to feel engaged, productive and useful, or simply just to be not waiting anymore.

Every week or so, my A-100 class gets updates from classmates who have reached post and are already DOING what we're still learning about. In words and photos, we see and hear about their work: meeting with local NGOs, writing cables, researching companies in their host countries to assist US businesses, flying with the Ambassador to various parts of the country, volunteering to teach English to local adults or simply putting into action our six weeks of Consular training by adjudicating visas in Chinese, Bengali, Spanish and French.  Meanwhile... we're still here, trundling down to catch the shuttle each morning, sitting at the same cafeteria table and chatting over our same repertoire of frozen lunches or left-overs. 

I got out of bed at 9:00 this morning, more than three hours later than I usually do. The Tabbies had been screaming at us for two hours already and my playing deaf wasn't working. They tag-team pounced on the bed and my head in turns, begging for their overdue breakfast. When I begrudgingly gave in to their tactics, Toby then scarfed it down so quickly that he promptly barfed it all up on the carpet. Not on the tile, where it's easy to wipe up, but in the middle of the living room. Thank God for light brown, cat-food-colored carpets, is all I can say. I wiped it up, sprayed that great stuff I always have on hand on the spots and bundled up to go out and care for a friend's cat in the next building over. Walking in the wet snowfall, past the now-vacant kids' play area where someone had forgotten their little down jacket under the bench, now limply wet and useless, I thought of the excitement I'd felt arriving here over five months ago. It was summer, there were new friends to meet, assignments to imagine, the world was possibilities and sunny horizons. Now it's gray, damp and feels like we're still in the trenches, trudging along and trying to make it through. Besides that, someone gave me a nasty cold/sinus infection and my head has become a disgustingly unending supply of.. well, I don't need to pain that graphic of a picture for you. I fed and snuggled my friend's little gray kitty, promising her that her family would return soon, and took a while to look out their 6th-floor window, overlooking the now-closed pool and hot tub area of the apartment complex. It really isn't so bad, I had to remind myself. In fact, it's not bad at all.

It's just that sometimes it's hard to lift your chin up to see the horizon and be reminded that all the frustrations, roadblocks and seemingly dead-ended corridors will eventually have doors or turns that lead to new adventures, new times of excitement and growth. 

Right?

Points of Pride

It feels like I've noted a whole slew of milestones reached over the past year and a half of this blog, but I get to tell you about one more, and it might be my favorite. 
On Wednesday, along with 23 classmates, I graduated from ConGen! 

This means we each successfully completed (with 100% attendance required) six weeks of intensive study for our assignments as Consular Officers. I have a dandy certificate to prove it, a head full of FAM references and binders full of notes, but more than that, I have (now, really!) finally achieved what has kept me motivated since May 2009 when I first heard of what a Consular Officer was. Through an entire summer dedicated to preparing for my first FS Officer's Test, to the disappointment of not making it all the way through the hiring process on the first try, to the excitement of going to my first assignment as an OMS - the spot on the horizon I've always kept in focus has been this job. 

So yesterday was a personal celebration for me. As my first day without an FSI class to attend, I spent part of it in Arlington National Cemetery in quiet reflection. Under brilliant blue skies and crisp early-autumn sunshine, I walked through the rows of headstones and statues and took in the perfect view of DC by myself. Being in that setting reminded me of the importance of service and of creating a life whose focus is outwards, not inwards. Naturally I can't compare my potential service or sacrifice to that of those memorialized at Arlington, but I am proud that it's something, that it's what I can do now. 

To top it off, we just learned that on September 22nd, our A-100 class list was sent to the Senate for Presidential Nomination. To excerpt the Library of Congress website:

Presidential Nominations
112th Congress (2011 - 2012)
PN1880-112

Legislative Actions

Floor Action: September 10, 2012 - Received in the Senate and referred to the Committee on Foreign Relations.

Floor Action: September 22, 2012 - Senate Committee on Foreign Relations discharged by Unanimous Consent.

Floor Action: September 22, 2012 - Confirmed by the Senate by Voice Vote.

I'm not entirely sure what else comes next in the process, but just to know that my name was in some way passing through Congress, well - I think that's pretty cool. 

And today the 169th A-100 class will have their Flag Day, and I will be in the back of the room cheering them on. There should be a few new Ciudad Juarez colleagues receiving their tiny Mexican flags, so I plan to be there to welcome them in, just as I was received on my own Flag Day almost two months ago. Each week, more of my classmates head for the airports and we're already receiving word back from colleagues in Saudi Arabia, Mali, NYC and Paraguay. While we're having lunch in the FSI cafeteria, they're out sinking their teeth into the meat of the work that we're still learning about. By the time I start my Spanish classes, some of my ConGen friends will already be in their interview windows, putting all of our training to work. 

To top it off, my husband was granted a spot in his own ConGen course, and just one week into it is now saying things like, "I'd like to, but I've got homework and case studies to work on today..." when we start making weekend plans. We hope that this training will set him up for a job inside the Consulate, but there are no guarantees. The security and economic situation in Juarez isn't as favorable for work on the local economy as it was in Bogota, so we're hoping this will be a good avenue for him. And who knows - maybe he will be so enthralled with the subject matter that he'll consider making it a career, too?  

Just a bit of sentimental pride to share with you all today. Once in a while I think it's important to slow down and really taste the tangerine.

A-100 Week Two In The Bag

Last night Tim and I joined a bunch of classmates packed into someone else's apartment to watch the Olympics opening ceremonies. Tacked to the wall of the living room was a bedspread-sized world map, with each of the posts from our bid list carefully labeled with tiny slivers of sticky notes. When I commented on what a great map it was, our hostess noted with pride, "And it has South Sudan on it, too!" to which the entire room responded, "Ooohhhhh!" 

And we were in no way being sarcastic.

It's so nice being among people who feel the same way about things like politically accurate maps.

However, as I get to know my classmates, and I hear them talk about their backgrounds, what they were doing before the start of A-100, and the types of things they've already accomplished - it makes me wonder if I just had a really good day last May when I passed that Oral Assessment. During the past two weeks, we have had opportunities to hear from and meet with senior members of the Foreign Service, and they frequently ask about where we'd like to be posted. After we answer, the next comment is often something along the lines of, "You'll be able to do very important work there; really exciting stuff going on."

Gulp.

I mean, it sounds good, doing really important work, right? But it also means that we, you know, understand what to do, how to do it and then actually do it well enough so that it does end up being "really important."  I should note here that I don't consider myself a big risk-taker. I like to step onto ice that I know is thick enough to support me. And I'm fairly certain that I'm the only one in my class with an Associate's degree in Equine Studies. Matter of fact, I'm pretty sure that I'm the only one with an associate's degree, period. Right now (and by that I mean for the next few years), I'd prefer to be doing something moderately-important-but-if-you-totally-mess-up-it-won't-cause-an-international-incident. Where can I sign up for that?

I see how my over-achiever classmates eat this stuff up, but sometimes I just want to blend in until I can get into the swing of things. I remember my first three months in Bogota when I felt like a goldfish on the carpet, grasping for breath and feeling like I was really sucking. My supervisor told me not to worry and that my predecessor got things figured out, "after about a month." That month passed and I was still lost and beginning to question whether I had been kidding myself all along. But then yesterday, as I wrote a quick email to the young man (a summer hire student) who is covering my position in Bogota temporarily, I found myself telling him that if he wanted to know how to do anything, just drop me an e-mail and I'd be happy to fill him in.

I guess I finally did figure it out. I'm sure that this current phase of self-doubt will also pass.

Meanwhile, we've been getting some really interesting training on the skills we'll need to have when we hit the ground in our new countries. Besides being in these classes full-time, outside of FSI, we're still also wrangling with our bid list priorities and all the research that entails and doing our best to balance the pushing and pulling we feel from our personal lives. Things like spouses and their work opportunities, kids and appropriate schools, pets and import restrictions, language requirements and timing for training, security, health and climate of the host country - and let's not forget that we also have to consider, "Do I want to DO this job for two years in this country?" For those of us with any or many of the aforementioned complexities in our lives (the majority of us), often the latter consideration slips to the least priority behind the others.

I find it rather ironic that this life takes people who are extremely self-directed, self-motivated, take-charge, mover-and-shaker types who have successfully steered their lives towards bright and shiny horizons... and then puts them in a situation where the most important aspects of their lives and careers are reduced to chance and placed completely into the hands of others. We do as much planning and predicting as we can, but in the end - we're going where they send us and we're making the best of it.

I'm surprised there's not a reality show about this yet. 

But today is Saturday and it's sunny and summery. Tim and I are relishing the warmth after a year of 64 and partly cloudy and the Tabbies are sprawled out on their balcony. For the time being - life is pretty good.

An EFM Work Solution and Taking Pets Abroad

That's a pretty long title, touching on two weighty issues, but I've been meaning to give an update on my husband's work situation. Plus, I'd like to offer a sobering reminder about bringing pets into the FS life.

First, after applying for nearly a dozen embassy jobs and interviewing for about five  without success ("We really liked you! You gave such a good interview! It's just that the other man/woman already had the same job in Japan/Bolivia/Tajikistan..."), Tim decided to take an intensive one-month course to earn his CELTA certificate to teach English to adults. Fortunately, the course was offered here in Bogota, as the majority of his classmates traveled from all over the world to attend. He also has a professional background in education so we figured that unless we be assigned to Canada, England, New Zealand or Stockholm, he'd be able to find plenty of students. His decision made sense.

He completed the course at the end of February and in a short span of time, signed on with a company that sends English teachers out to businesses for their employees. He now teaches PT for execs at Nestle and walks 15 minutes to work each morning. Plus, through the Community Liaison Office (CLO) and advertising on the Embassy newsletter, he was able to find Embassy-community students who need after-school tutoring or SAT-preparation classes. It means a very broken-up schedule of mornings, lunches and evenings - but it keeps him busy and he is especially enjoying  meeting the Colombians and learning more about life here.  Now that we're headed back to FSI, he'll try to get as much training as is allowed (for EFMs, it's on a space-available basis), especially in language training.

Okay - now the aforementioned sobering reminder:

This past week was one of great highs and lows. First, learning about my A-100 invitation and having passed my Spanish test. But then on Wednesday night we noticed that Dodger, one of the Tabbies, was acting very strangely. He was exceedingly restless, running around the apartment in an abnormal manner, and going to the litter box again and again. It was when I noticed that he was able to produce only a pea-sized drop of blood-tinged urine that I realized we had a serious problem. Of course, it was 10 pm...

First thing in the morning, I called my vet and my boss (in that order) and brought Dodger in to the vet's office at 8:15 am. At 8:30 the vet determines that his blockage isn't too bad, and that with an antibiotic and an anti-inflammatory, plus a day of observation, he should be fine. Seconds after administering the antibiotic/steroid mix via injection, and before my terrified eyes, he goes into anaphylactic shock and begins to vomit and convulse. I thought I was witnessing his.. well, I can't even bring myself to type that word. My vet, recognizing the severity of the situation, scoops his now-limp body up in a blanket and tells me we're taking him immediately to the emergency vet nearby. We jump in my truck, and with her holding Dodger and me trying not to crash in the morning traffic, we drive less than 10 minutes to the emergency vet. En route, she phones the other vets to describe our situation so they'll be prepared to receive him. We pull up, she jumps out and I go try to park. By the time I return, he is in kitty ICU being attended by the emergency vets. Within 90 minutes, I am allowed to see him and he's in a glass incubator-type cage with an IV of steroids and fluids, receiving oxygen in a warmed environment. He looks like my Dodger again. He stayed there all day, and by 5 pm he was stable enough to go home. He is now 90% better, and we're monitoring the urinary blockage problem and his status in general.

So here is why I bring this up:

As a FS pet owner, or I should note - as the mother of a fur family - because that is the depth of feeling I have for our cats, I have to accept that there is a chance that we will be assigned to a place that is not pet-friendly. We could be assigned to an island nation with lengthy quarantines; we could be posted to a country where there is barely health care for humans, much less animals; we could be posted to a country where it will cost thousands of dollars to get each kitty to post via cargo; and we could go to a country suffering civil unrest where we may be evacuated with two hours notice and no-pets-allowed on the evacuation flight.

These are all realities that haunt me regularly.

We were exceedingly fortunate to have been in Bogota when this event happened.
I had a car to drive my ailing cat to his vet. She had all the necessary supplies to treat him. When the situation dramatically changed, there was an EMERGENCY vet only ten minutes away with competent, well-trained staff and people who believe that animals are worthy of saving. If any one of these pieces of the puzzle were missing - I shudder to even think about it.

How do I handle these two realities: the worry for my cats' health and the knowledge that many posts will not offer the necessities I've listed above.

Basically, by putting my fingers in my ears and going "blah-blah-blah... won't happen to us!!" and denying it. I have to admit that. Naturally, our bid list was submitted with the cats in mind first-off. But there's never going to be a guarantee that we won't get our last-pick, as someone has to go to that post, and what if we ALL have beloved pets?

I really don't have a good answer. It is a reality of FS life and all I can do is hope for good luck, have my "Emergency Cat First Aid" book on the shelf and their kitty go-bags ready for evacuation (pillow cases if needed). I wanted to chew on this subject a bit as I'm sure a good number of you out there find yourself in the same position.

Switching over to becoming an FSO means I've signed up for two more "directed assignments" wherein we'll have to throw the dice and see what comes up. We have not only the cats to think about, but also my husband's work and general life-enjoyment to consider. We got very lucky in Bogota. Let's see what happens in July...

168th A-100 Here We Come!

Good Morning Ms. H,
The Registrar's Office is pleased to extend an appointment offer for the July 16, 2012 - Junior Officer Class. 

Looks like we're heading back to FSI!

Much to my surprise yesterday morning, while looking for the results of my Spanish phone test from last week, I found this message from the Registrar instead. I really wasn't expecting this to come so soon, so it's a bit of a shock. I contacted the Registrar to say, first, "YES!" and second, to ask if I'd been boosted up the register due to passing the language test. They hadn't even received the results yet, so the irony of it all is that after all my stressing and fussing and extra lessons - it looks like my plain ole' score earned me the invitation after all.

Oh wait, let me explain a minute for those who are new to the FS vocabulary. "A-100" is the nickname for the five-week foreign service officer's training course. It takes its name from the original room in Main State where it used to be held, before there was a Foreign Service Institute (FSI). When I went through the training to be an OMS, it was simply called a Specialist Orientation and it lasted three weeks. During this five-week course, besides learning about being a FS employee (again), we will also have sections like public speaking, and answering difficult questions. We will also get another bid list, much larger than the last one I got with only 13 posts on it, and we will have another Flag Day (yay!).

At the end of A-100, chances are good that I'll get six weeks of ConGen training. This is the very specific training for Consular Officers, complete with mock interviews, jail cell visits and volumes of immigration law to digest.

And let's not forget language training! As Consular Officers must communicate directly with the public all day, every day as they conduct interviews - language abilities are crucial. Just because I have some Spanish abilities is absolutely no guarantee that we'll be sent to a Spanish-speaking post. In fact, it's a running joke that if someone is fluent in French, chances are good they're going to be assigned to China instead.

Now for the frosting on the cake: I received word today that I actually did pass the Spanish phone test. Woohoo!!!

To understand more about what a Consular Officer actually does, here is some extra reading, if you have a moment. If you follow a few more links from this page, there are some cool examples of the work I'll be doing over the coming years.

How does my husband feel?  He's excited to reshuffle the deck of cards again and see what comes up. With his newly-minted certificate to teach English - he's far more portable now.

How do the Tabbies feel?
Shhhh.... we're waiting to find a way to break it to them. I think Dodger will be happy remembering his sunny balcony in our Oakwood apartment. Toby liked the wall-to-wall carpet and Tim has promised to take Daphne for walks by the pool. Hmmm... maybe we shouldn't bring that up just yet.

The EFM Work Situation

First, I must define my term: EFM
The official definition is an Eligible Family Member. However, I see a few other versions:
At the beginning of the hiring process, it is important that they are also an Excited Family Member, and that they understand that there is a decent chance that you may be sent to a dangerous post which would therefore make them an Endangered Family Member. But today I plan to share our experiences (thus far) on the road to my husband becoming an Employed Family Member. 
Please first understand my disclaimer:
This is one couple's experience at a very large post in a huge metropolitan city wherein the aforementioned EFM is a novice at the locall language. Everyone's experience will be different depending upon their professional desires and previous work experience, competition from other EFMs or the local work environment, bilateral work agreements between the new country and the US (or lack thereof) and - simply - luck and timing.

The other day, as I was extolling the virtues of it being a Friday, I noticed that Tim seemed depressed about the coming weekend. Why? Because while for me it meant two days of sleeping in and relaxing in the house, for him it meant two more days of waiting to hear back on some job opening. Two more days of knowing that nothing was going to move on the employment front. It meant another week had passed where he still hadn't found a job. Monday was his day of excitement and possibility, not Friday.

Bit of background: my husband has a considerable amount of useful work experience ranging from over a decade in public education to a handful of years in public health. These are what we considered to be "highly portable" skills when we first started talking about a FS life. He also speaks French and was in the Peace Corps at one time in a serious hardship country. This was good stuff! Armed with this confidence, he arrived at post (admittedly a bit disappointed that we're not in a Francophone country) and began applying for the positions advertised within the embassy. But wait, I've skipped a step: he actually started applying before arriving at post and in fact was contacting potential employers three and four months before his arrival.

So what happened? 
Even before arriving at post, we learned the first lesson: that many employers, specifically the local ones, don't want to hear about someone they hadn't already met or weren't going to meet for many months. Those inquiries went exactly nowhere and only proved to leave a bitter taste in his mouth regarding their blatant unresponsivenes. His initiative and foresight went utterly unrewarded, unfortunately. Even after arriving at post, many "cold call" emails of inquiry would go totally unanswered. 

What about the embassy jobs?
While in OMS training, I was told by a 20-year EFM veteran that Tim should be prepared to look for work at least six months at every new post. These words are ringing true today.
We figured that a huge post like Bogota would have a correspondingly huge need. Frankly, I'm unable to compare the number of EFM openings we've come across to those of another post because, well, this is our only experience. However, it seems that when they do come along - which is not very often - they seem to come in three flavors.

First, I've gotten very good at quickly scanning the e-mailed job openings from the CLO (Community Liaison Office) or HR for the base requirements and find myself immediately checking the language requirements first. It seems that about 60% of the openings require a high level of Spanish, say a 4/4 (fluent), which my husband does not possess. I don't even bother reading any further on those openings; they get immediately deleted. (Conspiracy theory has it that the language requirements are so high for some of these positions because they'd really rather hire a local who will stick around for years and years, rather than a stinkin' EFM who will be gone in two years... but that's simply an unsubstaniated theory.)

The next flavor, shall I say, are the uber-qualified openings that appear to be written with someone specific in mind. They want five years of progressively-responsible work in the field of international development, particularly in program management of research projects on white-footed field mice... for example. These come with a nice paycheck, but with firmly written stipulations that unless you can demonstrate exactly these prequisities - keep you day job, kid; you're application ain't going no further.

Finally, there are the job openings for whom nearly any somewhat educated and intelligent adult can apply. They have low requirements in terms of specialized skills, and therefore the entire EFM pool submits their resumes. These are jobs like Consular Assistant, HR Assistant, Security Escort etc... These positions are coveted because they generally require a security clearance, or offer the chance to get one. Which means that if you are new to the EFM gig, this is a great way to get your security clearance for The Next Post where you could be better set to get the sweet job you've been eyeing. People accept these Security Escort positions for good reasons: A) it's a job and it pays an American wage, which at least here means double the local salary; B) you will start to earn towards federal retirement, sick leave, vacation, social security etc... and, C) you will (hopefully) earn your security clearance. Yes, it means you get to escort the plant lady on her rounds through the embassy watering and dusting the potted plants, but that's the dive you have to be willing to take.

What's the downside of the former category?
These positions are deceptively difficult to obtain, leaving the highly-experienced and smarter-than-the-average-bear spouse feeling like a total reject because they can't even get a Security Escort job, fer crissake!   

And be prepared for the advertising, interviewing, hiring, and intake process to take months from the time a position is announced. The bureaucratic machine can easily eat four to six months of your 24 month tour, which makes the waste of precious time particularly aggravating.

Why are they so difficult to get?
Let me segue into a touchy category, if I may. The interview process, as I understand it, is set up in a hierarchy wherein EFM applicants receive preference, but veteran EFMs receive even more preference (veteran as in military, not simply experienced). They pretty much have to absolutely BOMB the interview in order for the hiring committee to have sufficient justification to consider other applicants further down the list. Mix in EFMs who have been around a post or two and have already done the job they're applying for and you might as well just take up crocheting and buying penny stocks. Just fergeddaboutit. Perfectly nice and capable EFMs never get a chance to shine in these interviews if a decent veteran EFM is among the applicants.

What about jobs on the local economy?
This will depend on whether or not there is a bilateral work agreement allowing such a thing to happen, either official or de facto. In some countries, work outside the mission is simply not an option. With over a decade of teaching experience, Tim contacted the list of international schools to offer his services. One school was very impressed with him, and he with them, until it came time to negotiate some form of part-time work with their HR department. They loved him! There were so many areas where he could help out! He didn't even have to work full-time, which was his preference after too many years of 60-hour weeks. An offer did come: three days per week for a three-figure salary per month. Yes, that's right... three figures and the first one was neither a nine, eight, seven, nor six... Basically he'd be working for cab fare and lunch money. Should he accept, he would be hired at the local wage, and teachers here make about $42 per day.

Now we were warned about this, and had read numerous stories of spouses who complained of "earning pennies."  When I read each of these accounts, I thought to myself, "Well that probably only applies to fancy NYC lawyers who are used to earning $150K plus per year. We're not like THAT! We're not in it for the money!" I paraded my high-horse around my mental barn, dismissing these warnings cavalierly. Now I understand what they were talking about.

Which brings us to the next question to ponder: why does the EFM want to work? Is it to further their career? To earn a salary to cover expenses from home, like a mortgage or college tuition or loans? To contribute to retirement savings? To occupy their time? To immerse themselves in the new country's culture and meet local friends? Because each of these reasons will offer different rationale for why taking a job for $500 per month is, or is not, acceptable.

What's the answer?
Well, besides marrying a veteran with years of experience, a hobby to occupy them, a great sense of patience, fluency in five world languages and a nest-egg - all I can recommend is that you two really discuss what it's going to look and feel like when hubby/honey is still at home after seven months of searching and hoping. Or a year, as was the case of a bilingual architect husband at post who was finally offered a job taking fingerprints in the Consular Section.  Tim has chosen not to bank on the embassy jobs, but to concentrate on an independant skill that can be taken to post two and three and four. If an embassy position comes through, great, but in the meantime he'll be more self-reliant.

Hey, remember this is just two people's experience. Your EFM could end up hooking a great job before you even arrive at post, as was the experience of a friend in Moscow and his wife.  I wish you good luck; I hope your experiences will be fulfilling and not frustrating; and I hope you and your veteran's points stay away from me and my EFM.

(Totally kidding.)

(Sort of.)

Introductions

As you may know, from either knowing us personally, or from reading our little intro to the left here, there are actually five of us on this journey into life in the Foreign Service. But so far, my stories have been mostly about me and the two Tabby boys, Dodger and Toby. I'd like to properly introduce the other two players who are about to enter from the wings to center stage: my husband Tim and Dodger's littermate sister Daphne. As I type these words, they are at SeaTac airport preparing to join us in our new South American home.

I left for FSI in mid-March; however, Tim stayed behind in (the other) Washington to see his youngest (Mike, age 18) off to college, prepare our house for renting and complete his contract at his job. The task of preparing our house, for the big pack-out (last Monday) and eventual rental was no easy feat. It's not huge, and we live quite simply - but we/I have been there for over 13 years and face it - stuff accumulates! I had my entire childhood entombed in cardboard boxes to go through. We had belongings to sell, give away, throw away, store for later (when?), take immediately or take eventually. We each made many, many hard decisions and double that many hours of work to make this long-held dream of moving abroad a reality. Tim spent every single weekend this summer on the house: between repainting, landscaping, going through the stuff, dry walling, taking care of all those little chores that we've all been "meaning to get around to," he did it all. But it's all done now. With the help of a local property management company, we have found a renter who wants to, in her words, "live here forever!" and every last chore has been completed. While he's traveling quite a bit heavier than his passport-and-toothbrush-in-breast-pocket dream, he is finally able to join us in this new life.

Of the married/coupled friends I've met over the past six months who are new to the FS life, we've all shared experiences (highs and lows, for certain) of how our significant-others have coped. Many wives and husbands have been left in hometowns across the country to do the heavy lifting of the big pack-outs; they have left their jobs and homes to live in temporary apartments crammed with kids and pets and not much to do; they have scrambled to find appropriate schools for the kids in their new post while the spouse-employee goes to training. They have found ways to mentally handle being the "trailing spouse" and have learned to accept that the information about their lives, from simply the daily mail to where-the-heck-will-we-be-moving will be funneled through the spouse/employee. It isn't for everyone and I hope that those of you who may be considering this path are able to really discuss these subjects before signing on.

So I'd like to say THANK YOU (insignificant words) to my husband for his efforts towards our goal. He will arrive tomorrow mid-day after a red-eye flight through Miami. Daphne will have been without her litter box for over 16 hours and has already been living in a motel since their pack-out. The boys have grown accustomed to their bachelor lives without their bossy sister, so it will be interesting to see how they adjust to her presence. As I write this, they are blissfully curled up on the couch, totally unaware of what is coming tomorrow.

We'll keep you posted.