The recruiter, an elderly lawyer who spoke so slow I felt like being lulled to sleep, kept turning the results of my IQ and English tests. Every turn merited a “wow!” or “impressive!” Did that mean I got the job, I asked, but he said he needed to send the results along with the other applicants’ to the President of the company who would pare the fifty candidates chosen out of the five hundred they received. A long shot, I thought.
TW Oil in Muscat, the Sultanate of Oman, was looking for an executive secretary for the President of the branch office in Oman. I told the recruiter that I have other possibilities therefore I would appreciate a timely advice on whether I got the job.
In 1985 I had been unemployed for quite a while. Of the two hundred some resumés I sent out, I got a reply from only seventeen companies and four called me for actual interviews. The Oman job was the last to call and I was sent to a third party office to test my mettle in English, written and spoken, and a personality test which included the IQ test. After a week, the recruiter called again, this time, the office in Oman sent a sealed test for me to open on the spot and answer. It was a 100-item questionnaire in English and “what would you do?” scenarios. The English tests were peanuts, and I bullshitted my answers to the what would you do questions. Right then and there, the questionnaires were faxed to Oman and after a few minutes, the Oman branch called. I passed.
Three weeks later, the President of the company came to Manila to interview the five final candidates. Magazines of all sorts were spread on the centre table at the reception room of the suite where he was staying. The four other girls picked up the entertainment magazines and fashion magazines. I picked up Time and Newsweek and I saw there was a USA today newspaper so I pulled it towards me, then I leafed through Time as I waited. When I was called, I didn’t stand up right away. I slowly got up, not taking my eyes from the magazine. I gave the Englishman a firm shake of hands. “That’s a good grip you had there, Ms. Summerfield, I’m impressed.”
But he was not impressed with the schools where I got my diplomas from. The other four girls went to exclusive colleges and universities, came from “important families” and lived in condominiums or elite addresses. Also, the owner of the company, the Chairman and CEO prefers tall and fair skinned assistants.
“I fail to see how such requirements are relevant to the job descriptions you provided in your advertisement and interviews.”
A week had passed before the recruiter called me to tell me to get my passport ready as I am hired, but on the condition that I pass the required medical tests. He said that I was only the third choice even though my tests were excellent and impressive. The first choice wanted to bring her parents as part of the package; the second one was demanding too many vacations. I, on the other hand, was ready to start anytime.
I had my medical tests and I was asked to pick up the results after a week. When I went to the hospital, the nurse told me that my hepatitis tests came back positive and they needed a second test to re-confirm. But, she said, if I really wanted the job, we can ‘discuss’ it. I knew what she meant. I told her as a matter of principle, I do not believe in bribery and I would prefer to have a second test.
I left the hospital resigned to the fact that I would not get the job. When I got home, I cried. I had no job and probably sick. I sat on my bed, holding the Bible in my hand. I opened it blindly and through eyes blurred by tears, the first thing I saw was Psalm 139. I cried uncontrollably as I read through it. When I finished, I felt so relaxed and in a few minutes, I stopped crying. An hour passed and the recruiter called to say that the hospital had sent him the results of the medical tests and that everything came out negative. It seemed there was a mix up in the laboratory with the hepatitis result, but as a precaution, he sent me to another hospital for another hepatitis test where I was given the all-clear.
In the middle of June of that year, I arrived in Muscat, Oman. Despite repeated advice to not bring my Bible with me, I had it in my handcarry. When I checked through Omani Customs, it was the first thing the officer saw. He took it out of my bag, then he sifted through the rest of the bag’s contents piece by piece, all the while holding the Bible with his other hand. When he nodded and let me through, I held out my hand and asked for my Bible. He leafed through it briefly, then as he handed it back to me, he said “Good book.”
-o0o-
the photo was taken with the Minolta slr just before i left for the sultanate of oman.
You look so young on that shot, but also very determined : your pose and you look straight to the camera !