It's a Job

Getting a decent job in Spain in the twenty-first century is not an easy task. Especially if you're young. Or if you're over forty. Or if you don't have a college degree. Or if you have too many degrees, masters, or even a doctorate. Youth unemployment is now at thirty three percent, the highest in the European Union. Which explains the crowds this past Sunday.

This Sunday were the exams to access jobs within the postal system. Public employment in Spain is accessed by exams. The prospective employee tends to spend more than a year studying the material, generally by paying and attending classes at private academies. Then, when an exam is held (which doesn't happen every year), they register and attend an all-day x-marks-the-answer marathon. 

Our daughter joined the crowds this Sunday. Only, she didn't have much time to prepare, just about four months, on her own. Hopefully, she'll pass, which means she'll be on the substitute list. That will allow her to temporarily substitute an employee who has to take sick leave. Because the odds of her getting a job are slim to exceedingly slim. In Galicia, for about 170 jobs, close to 10,000 candidates attended the exam. In all of Spain, there were around 4,500 jobs, and over 100,000 examinees. 

We knew there would be crowds, but we didn't think there would be that many people. The first suspicion was on the highway from Santiago to Silleda, where the exams were to be held in a couple of large pavilions, usually used for these purposes, and to hold stalls at a yearly rural fair. This highway, one of the most expensive in Galicia, is generally empty. People tend to risk speed traps on the national road rather than pay the exorbitant tolls. But early on Sunday morning, there were cars and cars ahead of us, and cars and cars behind us. As we approached the exit, we had to slow down and stop, and begin inching along. The highway company was not about to raise the barriers and lose all that money. So, we inched along, yellow vest-clad workers directing traffic to the different toll booths in an attempt to speed things along. Once off the highway, there were other workers with light cones, and signs, directing traffic along country lanes. As we approached, at about eight thirty, a half hour later than expected (doors opened at nine), we parked in the ditch like a long line of cars ahead of us had already done, and accompanied our daughter to the pavilion.

It was like fair day, alright. There were more people than hairs on many of the heads we saw. We wished her luck when we left her at her assigned entrance, and then went to the cafeteria, which was rudimentary and chock-a-bloc with people. Most of them were like us, family members or friends who had driven an examinee. From the window, the sun was trying to peek above the horizon, and lines of cars were still arriving, even though it was already close to nine.  

We waited for her all day, walking through the streets of the small town of Silleda, sitting with her in the car while she ate the lunch she had brought on a break between exams, and despairing of eating lunch ourselves as we saw restaurant after restaurant filled to the air vents with people. Eventually, we ate at a kebab place, which my husband ended up definitely not liking (I knew it), and which had a bit too much salt for me. Then, we wandered some more, the cold wind battering us up and down the streets. 

When she finally got out, after four in the afternoon, we walked a bit with her in a beautiful park. Well, it would have been beautiful in spring and with milder temperatures. The corners in the light of the setting sun were temperate, but the shadowy paths were more than chilly with the strong north wind. Then, we left her at the apartment of a friend she had made in August while picking blueberries. The friend had insisted our daughter spend the night with her family, and she did. And we drove home, more tired than if we had spent the entire day working.

The worst part of all this? That the system is broken. There is no employment security any more. The most one can hope for when applying for a job in the private sector is a contract that lasts at least three months, after which, you most likely have to look for another job. The majority of jobs are low-paying, and offer weeks, sometimes only days, of stability. The better jobs tend to hold on to their employees, and offers open up rarely, and newly qualified young people have to emigrate to work at what they have specialized in. Even then, these jobs don't always offer stability. That is the reason why, when any type of government employment is offered, thousands of people register for the exams. Because government employment is fixed employment. A person who works for any of the different government offices is assured that they will have that job until they wish to leave or retire. 

Another problem is that many jobs will hire you for a certain amount of time, and on the contract will be specified that it is a four hour part time job, with paid vacation. In reality, the employee will have to work the hours asked, generally more than eight. They tend to be paid the entire working day, but officially, they're paid for only four hours of work. The problem with that is that it means the employer is only paying Social Security for four hours earnings. That is not only bad for the current pensioners who depend on more workers paying into the system, but also bad for the employee, because in the future their pension will reflect the official version of four hours employment, not the entire eight or ten hours they worked at that job. 

I wish my daughter luck, but I also wish someone would fix this system. 

 

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Not So Fast, 9. Fairness.

We're Moving!

In Normal Times, 1. Blinking Awake.