The story of how one job searche turned into a dangerous experiment" />

Op-ed: 100 synonyms for ‘intimate services’ or How to get a job in Azerbaijan

The story of how one job searche turned into a dangerous experiment


t would seem to be me that finding a job on your own in Azerbaijan isn’t easy – you largely have to go through so-called employment companies that put out wanted ads. 

They promised me a bunch of vacancies, which even embarrassed me because I don’t have any special skills and I’ve little experience. 

But naivety and the desire to make some quick money made me hold out.

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After compliments in the spirit of “you are such a nice girl!” and “knowledge of Russian is very much in demand”, I paid a fee of 10 manat. 

They called it a deposit. A deposit because, as I was told, ‘there are these days a lot of swindlers out there who…’ and the rest was incomprehensible. 

The girl who talked to me had beautiful golden teeth. I remember thinking my 10 manat might also be going into her mouth, transformed into gold. 

Then I was sent for an interview in a restaurant where there was a vacancy as a hostess. It turned out that they wanted me to work 12 hours, minus a lunch break and to stand outside in front of the restaurant. The salary was also lower than the agency said.

 “Well, to hell with them!”, I thought. “I’ll find something myself. I can deal with stress. It’s not that terrible to hear a couple of rejections, I won’t lose anything.”

How wrong I was. 

I discovered our “decent”, almost-Muslim country was full of debauchery and lust. Offers to provide intimate services, in addition to basic responsibilities, poured on from everywhere. 

They differed from each other in the degree of detail. The only thing they didn’t offer was cannibalism, but it seemed to me that would just be a matter of time.

Employers longing for intimate relations with their employees were divided into two categories:

1. The first category at first wrote that they had fallen in love with me at first sight, that they were absolutely serious in their intentions. When they did not receive a joyful response of consent, they began to call without interruption. At one in the morning, four in the morning, seven in the morning…At some point, I changed the call to the anthem of Azerbaijan, believing that it would amuse me a little, but it just made things worse. 

2. The second wrote very businesslike, by letter. They promised a handsome salary and the position of “secretary” or “director’s assistant”, they explained that I would have to provide some services. Services “of a personal nature.” Services of a “pleasant nature.” Services of a “secret nature.” And many other synonyms. 

Sometimes it seemed to me that I was reading an amateur novel by a teenage girl who is afraid to write the word “sex.”

And how could one even think of getting by without the prerequisite of wearing a miniskirt. 

They even sent me photos of skirts as an example. And these were not miniskirts, but rather maxi-briefs. 

Although, there was one person who immediately offered me both sex and love, and he noted that “you can’t stay daddy’s little girl forever – you should become my little girl instead!” 

The icing on the cake: I continued to make calls and listened to tactful rejections like: “Sorry, miss, we’re just looking for a pretty employee, not … that …” 

Even at the clinic: apparently, the clinic’s patients needed to see something beautiful before being put in the ground by their doctors. 

Apparently, I overestimated my ability to deal with stress. Having deleted my ads online, I thought – it’s very difficult to get a job in our country without acquaintances and relatives.

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