Gainfully Employed in Ecuador

Yesterday, I was sitting at breakfast with Cali, Laila and Pablo. The girls as you may remember, I met in the jungle at Arutam, and Pablo was a Chilean dude Laila first befriended. I idly mentioned that I thought it was neat that so many gringos were working in town, at hostals, restaurants, and surf shops. It must be amazing, I mused, to spend even a few weeks here, just surfing and working. This town is addictive, very tranquillo -relaxed- during the week, and a happening party scene on the weekend. And of course, there´s always the surf. Some days are better than others, but every day there are decently surfable waves, in a warm, embracing ocean.

Laila piped up: "You know, there´s a lot of signs up around town for people looking for waitresses, you should go check it out." I was more than intrigued. Imagine being able to stay here for a few weeks, surfing and chilling out- which I wanted to do anyways- but breaking even financially or even coming out ahead in the end. Besides working in a restaurant again. Fantastic. But without an ample knowledge of spanish, I didn´t know how I could possibly get a job anyways.

Breakfast ended and we walked Pablo and Laila to the bus and said our sad goodbyes. I will really miss Laila- she was the other girl staying in Molita´s house with me in Arutam. She´s English and has this surprising sense of humour that comes out of nowhere. We´ve spent time in the jungle, in Puyo and Baños, and now in Montañita together, and we´ve become quite close. I will definitely miss her!

Back in town, I decided, on a whim, to pop into the Casa Blanca, the bar/restaurant below the hostal of the same name that had several signs advertising hiring. Incidentally, it was the hostal Cali and I first stayed at.

I thought of the absurdity of it all. The last time I applied for a job, at The Grand, I must have spent an hour on my makeup, another on my hair, and wore a fantastic outfit of pressed black slacks with leather stilleto boots and a well-fitted collared shirt. In short, nothing less than perfectly clean, groomed, and professionally outfitted. To complete the picture, I carried a bold red folder containing a perfected resume and cover letter.

I walked into the Casa Blanca wearing my black short "York U" shorts, a Hollister tank, bikini underneath. I had gone for a run that morning, as I have been doing every day now. Pushing myself, I ran the entire way down the beach and the entire way back, broken only by a single stretch before I returned. Covered in sweat and about to relish that cold shower, I discovered we had no water at all. I used the damp terry cloth and some bottled water to give myself a sort of rub-down. Of course, walking back into town for breakfast along the beach, I completed the look by re-splattering mud all the way up my legs. In short, I arrived to apply for a job a bit sweaty, unshowered, in my shorts that half the time I use to sleep in, my bikini, no makeup, flip-flops and mud splatters, without a resume or other documentation. I love what you can get away with in this country!

After some miscommunication and some gesturing coupled with my Spanglish, I was directed to a cute and friendly looking brunette who introduced herself as Melissa. Yay English! This just got a whole lot easier. I waited at the bar as she kept having to leave, scurrying hither and thither, attending to the employees.

Finally we sat down for a proper (improper?) interview. Not many questions, really. I was expecting the usual "Where have you worked before", but no. I answered, "I am from Canada, I have a lot of experience, I plan to say a couple of weeks, and honestly, my Spanish isn´t very good". She seemed wary of my dubious Spanish, and I don´t blame her. All of the kitchen staff and half of the servers were obviously spanish.

She looked at me, hestiantly, as if she were about to ask a favour. "How soon could you start?"

"Well, today, I guess. I´m just hanging out."

"Okay, we´ll we´re going to be really busy tonight. So come back at 4:00, okay? And earlier if you want a staff dinner, we eat around 3:30. We´ll try it out for a night and see how it works."

I walked out of the bar. It was exactly 1:00 pm. I had a job in Ecuador. Oh and did I mention the pay? For a waitress, it´s $140 dollars a month. Break it down, for a typical 10 hour night shift, it´s 4.50 or 45 cents an hour. Ridiculous, right? To put in perspective though, the average school teacher in Ecuador, considered a well-educated person, earns about $200 a month. Also, not terrible considering the cost of living.

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Two and a half hours after I applied for the job, I started my first shift. Things were a bit hectic as it was shift changeover time. Not knowing much spanish made communicating with the kitchen staff especially hard. I was to be helping out behind the bar.

Stepping behind the wood-topped ceramic bar, I met the day bar girl. She is a young middle aged woman, and I would presume also a mother. She has that look. Behind her on the floor slept her oh so cute, very shiny black, baby puppy. He seemed oblivious to the comings and goings, and slept unconcerned. I wondered how she didn´t trip over him all day, and then marveled that here in Ecuador, your dog can hang out behind the bar with you.

A quick scan of the bar, however, revealed it wasn´t entirely backwards. All of the important liquers and liquors were there, including the creme de cacao, johnny walker, absolut vodka, etc.

A guy walked in whom I reconized him from a club I briefly stepped into on Thursday night, because him and his friends seemed to be part of this strange and elite "hot people club". Tall, and very tall considering the height of the locals, he had bleach blond hair that spoke of hours in the sun, and a body that told tales of years on a surfboard. One of the girls with them, a small, very tanned blonde with interesting features and no make-up, was undoubtedly one of the hottest girls I´ve ever seen. She too had the surfer body, not a tiny bit of fat and the leanest midsection you´ve ever seen. I say lean because she was not skinny, per se, but muscular. She was the waitress, and he, the bar manager.

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To be continued: my first night bartending in Ecuador!