A Cautionary Tale

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My water had been severed, my new apartment invaded, leaving me in a state of being chronically apalled by the insanity and stupidity around me. But what I went though was nothing--and I mean NOTHING--compared to what happened next.

I had put in my three weeks notice four weeks prior. Knowing that my time in Jining was growing short, I had been discussing my options with my people in Cambodia; after what I had witnessed over the last ten days, I was frankly considering just pulling a midnight run and disappearing off the face of the earth. Then I received an email from Cambodia, informing me that they had a potential job for me if I could make it in for an interview on Monday morning. This was Friday night, mind you; which is rather short notice. Nonetheless, I jumped at the chance and discussed it with my boss.

Surprisingly, he appeared to strongly support me. I told him I understood that my leaving was very short notice and that I would be happy to forfeit the current job offer in Phnom Penh if everyone in Jining would be totally crushed by this (which was true, incidentally). He told me that it wasn't too short of notice at all and to "Go for it." He also told me that I had done a great job and would write a letter of recommendation--all I had to do was teach Saturday's classes and then he'd cover for me so that I could catch a flight on Sunday morning (the flights from small-town China to Phnom Penh are somewhat limited).

The next thing I knew, I received a phonecall telling me that I was fired and wasn't allowed back into the school under the pretense that I had given too short of notice (wtf?) and that I would perform badly on my last day and deliberately slack off. Those of you who know me know that this is about the most insulting thing anyone can possibly say to me...and swallowing the insult, I finished packing my things and laid down for awhile.

I should have just gotten out of the city then, as it turns out. Instead I slept for a couple of hours and began consolidating everything the next day. I was in the middle of eating a lunch of noodles when I received the knock on the door. I knew who it was, too, and what they wanted. Pulling all of my luggage to the door, I faced my foreign affairs officer (the same one who didn't pay my bills) and the human resources lady. They had come to evict me. And surely enough, they stood there, watching me--a lone female--struggle to carry everything I owned down four flights of stairs. About halfway down my first flight of stairs, I watched as the scum just walked into my apartment to see what they could requisition; meanwhile I shouted obscenities at them as my right arm dislocated itself due to the 40 kg I was lugging down the stairs BY MYSELF.

The neighbors all came into the hallway to stare at this spectacle; not one of them could be bothered to ask what the trouble was, they simply took their sadistic Chinese pleasure in watching a foreigner struggle down the stairs. "WHAT ARE YOU STARING AT?" I shouted at the ladies on the first floor, who were watching me, bemused. I was ready to throw a punch.

Really aching, and gasping for air, I lugged my five bags across the courtyard and to the road way. Clearly in pain and struggling, I was not too happy with the crowd of onlookers that this scene was generating. I made it, at long last, to the roadside. No one offered to help me; several good citizens stood by and watched me try to hail a taxi. The first taxi driver I got openly mocked my pronunciation of the words "public bus station". "What?? You want the 'public eggplant?'" he said hatefully, with a look of the utmost disgust.

Turning my back on him, I discovered that in my frenzy, the water bottle had sprung a leak and had soaked everything in my purse. Beyond furious at this point, I unpacked everything, dumped out the water, repacked my wads of cash, dried the paper, wrapped the books up in a cloth, and then repacked it all, hoping for the best. At that point, a peasant woman walked up to me with a tissue, pointing out my purse which was still dripping wet--as if I hadn't noticed! "I REALLY DON'T CARE!!" I bellowed at her. Perhaps not the most appropriate response, but I think understandable given that I was, at this point, completely beside myself and furious with the whole of China. She left the area grumbing about my rudeness, and I left China grumbling about the inhumanity of the Chinese people.

I found a taxi driver who didn't mock me and who even helped me lift my luggage into the car (I gave him all my spare change in return for his help). He deposited me at the bus station, where I would take the bus to Jinan, and depart from the Jinan airport the next morning. In Jinan, I would later receive the email from my boss which defended the school's actions and accused me of leaving on too short of notice, and of being a terrible employee--this despite the support he had initially showed me! I would also discover that I have likely been blacklisted, meaning I will never be able to obtain employment in China again.

I was, and still am, absolutely outraged by this reprehensible display on the part of my school, and the degrading and callous nature of the Chinese people. Can't come back to China? No problems there! This incident was simply vile, just despicable; and it has served to turn me into a harder, wiser woman. My only comfort on the three hour bus ride to Jinan was watching the film Saving Private Ryan, and knowing that the men in the film, at least, were having a much worse day than me.

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