Calculating Slot Machine
Within a month of getting my Czech citizenship I secured work as an Event Manager. Finally that college degree paying off once again! The initial shimmer of the job wore off when I wanted to see how my current salary ranked against the Prague norm. I was dumbfounded. I took an online Czech salary calculator test, where I punched in information regarding number of years worked in my field, educational background, business market target, number of employees, roles, benefits and finally gender. The calculator crunched out a number. It was only 100 Kč more per month then the gross amount that I currently make. I was in shock! Both of my cheeks started to furiously turn red. There surely must be a mistake! I wiped out the calculation and did it one more time, this time with a small change; I decided that I’d be male. It was 3,100 Kč above what I make. Minus gender, I had exactly the same criteria for both calculations. I was so wildly furious that I crazily forced myself to retake the test 3X per gender. Maybe the salary calculator was short wired and it at any moment would turn into a slot machine, which would reconfigure another random combo! No. Each time it computed the same disheartening numeric gender discrimination.
Volejbal Vortex
I play volleyball at an elementary school by Olšanské hřbitovy (the cemetery). Men aged from their 30s to their 50s+ arrive in their business suits and casual attire. They swoop through the rotating human sized turnabout to enter the court area, immediately staking out their gym bag spot throughout the court’s sidelines. “Nazdar” and “Ahoj” are greetings echoed throughout. Then a few short minutes later, the sport jackets come off, along with the ties, button down shirts, shoes, belts and pants. Yes, you read that correctly PANTS!
The court seems to be the whirling mass of men in their tighty-whities and blue-ies that appear to have been bought about 20 decades ago. They are a bunch of loose p-articles of clothing swirling by the net, sidelines and bench. Volleyball anyone?
Prague Pang
This past summer I went on a Spain hiatus. I spent 53 days hiking in the Pyrenees Mountains and back on to the Camino de Santiago trail. Early on the Camino I walked three days with Spanish fraternal twins. Every time somebody passed us, Julia and Antonio would cheerfully bellow out, “Buen Camino” (Good Journey) or “Buenos Dias” (Good Day). This continued on with as much vigor and enthusiasm at 3 p.m., 30k later after we had started in the wee hours of 6 a.m. At about noon on the second day of walking together, Julia turned to face me and said, “Do you not know how say in a-Spanish, Good Day?”
I turned facing her in bewilderment and said with a Spanish lisp, “Well it’s, Bueeenos Diaz, no”? Then it dawned on me, I’ve become….The Rude Czech.
Here people stare in bewildered confusion if you mumble a “Dobrý den”. I got used to not greeting! How dare I?!
I explained my rudeness as negative side-effect of my Czech exile. Julia bluntly said, “That’s a weird country.”