The London Cypriot Villager's Blog

Posts Tagged ‘job

There is a well known secret here in Cyprus called ‘Messon’. Roughly translated in means ‘inside’. Its used in relation to getting a job, getting a wife or husband, getting in free to clubs, getting out of speeding fines and getting a ‘get out of jail free’ card. If you know someone on the inside you can pretty much get away with anything in Cyprus…if you have ‘messon’.

Lets take for example the resident gangster/mafia here in Larnaca. He has top of the range luxury cars coming out of every orifice. He has so much property I think he must actually own Larnaca,  he has casinos where you can play poker and roulette which is actually illegal in Cyprus yet he is still in business – why? Because he has messon.

Another illustration of where messon gets you – a guy i used to work with at the airport – he smashed his car and was badly injured, thankfully he didn’t injure anyone else. His alcohol test revealed he was 4 times over the legal limit – the records for this test miraculously disappeared in court, as he had messon, meaning he didn’t lose his licence or face a big fine.

I have 2 people on the inside. The first is my aunty. She is a Dr at the local hospital so if I need her to examine me I just make a phone call and don’t have to queue. Now I’ve just returned from a visit and can still feel the glare of the waiting patients burning into my back. These people had been waiting hours, one woman had been there since 8.30am (it was now 11.30am) and she was still waiting. I turn up, wait half an hour and get called in. I can hear the tutts and questions as to why im favoured above everyone else. I don’t actually fell good about this messon, I feel terrible. Its unfair. I should wait my turn. I shouldnt be pushed to the front like some celebrity. We are all the same, we are humans with ailments that need to be treated.  However I go in ahead of everyone else nonplussed because i know if they were the ones with ‘messon’ they would be taking full advantage.

I could go on and on but im sure you get the corrupt picture. Its good if you are the one with the messon, if you don’t have it, it’s unfair and limiting. I remain on the outside, as the only other messon I have is my cousin who works for an ice cream factory and I don’t think that’s going to get me anything other than fat!

In the UK when you want to look for a job you can do a number of things; 1) get a selection of local and national newspapers, arm yourself with a marker and get cracking; 2) sign up either in person or online to a huge array of recruitment agencies; 3) Search online directly for your preferred employers –  every company website has a careers section; 4) further your education or take an evening course to help open your avenues in employment; 5) Go to the job centre where there is staff to help you and jobs on offer.

In Cyprus, you have 1 option; 1) Ask everyone you come across if they know of any jobs going. I’m being a bit unfair, there are recruitment agencies here too and there are local papers and websites, but it seems they advertise the same 3 jobs for 2 months on the trot. As for the job centre. Where to start! My fiance went there last week to enquire about what he has to do to look for jobs and claim unemployment benefit; which he is entitled to. He said there was 1 woman in the office on her own and about 23 people in the queue. She told him to come back another time. So the other time has arrived. I have decided to go with him as I speak the local lingo and might get somewhere faster.

We were actually pleasantly surprised. There was a queuing system to begin with – a first for me here in Cyprus. There was one of those little ticket machines you used to get in Tesco at the meat or cheese counter. So we took the ticket and waited till the digital display beeped our number. After half an hour wait we went through to the little office and sat down in front of Cyprus’ most miserable woman. She looked up at us like we were two cockroaches that she wanted to spray with chemical killer! I started speaking to her in Greek and she proceeded to reply in English so i gave up and spoke my native tongue to her. My fiance told her what he was looking for and how long he’d been unemployed etc. She asked for his social insurance number which he told her he didn’t have. She sighed and raised her eyes to the ceiling. She sat there staring at us in the hope that we would miraculously produce it. We sat there and stared at her back. My eyes challenged her to pick up the phone. “I suppose I could phone for it”, she replied – my hypnotic skills working. Social insurance number confirmed and forms filled out, she presided to hand Dean 2 forms with painters in the area. “Here are two jobs for you to telephone. Then come back in one month, thank you.” “One month?” I exclaimed. “In England (the Cypriots hate it when you start a sentence with ‘In England’) you go to the job centre every week!” “It’s once a month here, he could come before but there would be no point.” She looked away signalling that the conversation was over. I muttered the word ‘great’ under my breath and asked quickly about unemployment benefits and we were told to go to the next room. The next room was Cyprus’ most miserable room. Grey walls, empty battered seats…when we were called up the lady was very friendly and helpful. We didn’t really know what was going on, Dean signed a form and was told to come back in one month.

So…Dean called the painters, one was too busy and the other was also busy but said he would call back. And call back he did, another first for me! He wanted to meet Dean for an interview but wanted me to be present so I could translate. The ‘interview’ was held in a cafe. He treated us to juice whilst he sunk a cup of strong Greek coffee. He proceeded to tell Dean his work was top-notch and he wanted only the best working for him. Dean fitted the bill so the agreement was a trial run Friday and Sat and then payment would be discussed. True to his word, Dean went to work for free and came home disgruntled and fuming. The boss that wanted a perfect job done, said Dean was ‘too neat’. He wanted a huge classroom with all its walls and its 3 ceilings painted twice in less than 1 day! He told Dean he’d pay him for his time on  Monday and that he was free to leave.

Monday came but no money came with it! Another prime example of how everyone over here does what they like with no repercussions!



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  • maria1ant: I agree. There are no manners or politeness in the modern day Londoner. Its up to us I guess to change it and not be rude like the rest of them!
  • maria1ant: Thank you Hayley x
  • Johnlochrie@rocketmail.com: I don’t go into London anymore, unless it’s to go to a bar or a restaurant, that’s all it’s good for in my opinion, the commun

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