I took a job two weeks ago with an Azari family in Stavanger. Stavanger is a beautiful city on the West side of Norway. Azarbajin is a former Soviet country on the Caspian Sea to the east of Turkey and the north of Iran. My job was to help these folks improve their English. Nice and simple, right? I even agreed to a salary that was less than the Norwegian minimum wage by 500 Kroner (approx. $100) because "I wouldn't be working all that much." We even had a month- long trial period to see if this arrangement would work. It sounded fantastic. I was going to be paid to talk to these people in English. Former Soviet nations really fascinate me, so basically I was going to be paid to talk to someone about my favorite subject.
This should have been a match made in heaven. Instead, everything imploded. It imploded so completely that I spent my final night in the house with my bedroom door barricaded by my suitcases. Granted, that might have been a bit of overkill, but things had spiraled so far out of control that I wasn't taking any chances.
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