Work and travel official. Do not book tickets and rooms

The Work and Travel program attracts students who love to travel, adopt foreign experience and dream of traveling to distant States. Just going to this country for the holidays is not a cheap pleasure; not all students can afford an expensive life abroad. And there is a way out - work in America for students for the summer. Combining leisure and work, a cultural program, comfortable living conditions - in a few months you can learn much more about the USA than during your vacation. At the same time, you will be able to bring back a decent amount of money from the trip: you must agree, this is more than tempting.

What is Work and Travel

The Work and Travel program is a way for students to travel to America for the summer. The US government has developed special conditions for the exchange of experience between young people. Students from all over the world come to the States to immerse themselves in local life, get to know national traditions better, and have a good time. Of course, if students came only for recreation, there would be no benefit in this. That is why the program is divided into parts:

• The student works for several months - 3 or 4, and receives a salary, which he can immediately spend or save at will;
• Within a month after completing work, you can travel around the country, visit amusement parks, sightsee, enjoy life and spend the money you earn. Or you can go home if you managed to see a lot during working hours and want to bring home a substantial amount of money.

The attractiveness of the Work and Travel program is that a person without a higher education can earn quite a lot, which is almost impossible to achieve in his native country.

In addition, you will be able to relax, see another country, and learn from the American experience. It will be possible to learn English better and bring back invaluable experience with a lot of impressions. In the future, when finding a job, having experience in America will play into your hands.

The student program will also teach independence - the teenager will return as an adult, capable of making decisions. You need to be mentally prepared for the fact that you will represent Russia in the States, so your behavior must be thoughtful and your actions balanced. It is on the basis of your behavior and attitude towards citizens that the indigenous residents will form an opinion about the Russian population.

Who can participate in the program: requirements and documents

The requirements for program participants are extremely simple: you need to study full-time at a university, know at least a conversational level of English, and be 18-26 years old.

However, behind the excessive simplicity lies the painstaking collection of papers and funds for moving abroad.

So, you should collect a package of documents in advance:

• A valid foreign passport and its copies;
• Russian passport and copies;
• A certificate from the educational institution confirming that you are a full-time student;
• Student ID and its copy;
• Photos 3x4 cm – 4 pcs., 5x5 cm – 2 pcs.

You need to decide in advance about your future job. However, no specific knowledge or physical effort is required - students are offered simple vacancies with low pay by local standards.

How to become a Work and Travel member

Once you have decided to participate in the Work and Travel program, contact an agency that offers this service. Finding the official website is not difficult; there are 11 such companies in Moscow, and there are a large number in St. Petersburg. There are also agencies in other large cities: Kazan, Nizhny Novgorod, Yekaterinburg, Ufa, Voronezh, Chelyabinsk, Novosibirsk, Perm, Samara. And also: Rostov-on-Don, Krasnoyarsk, Volgograd, Omsk, Irkutsk, Yekaterinburg, Penza, Kaliningrad, Vladivostok. There are Work and Travel offices in Ukraine, Kazakhstan, Belarus, in cities such as Minsk, Odessa, Kyiv, Dnepropetrovsk.

So, you contacted the agency. What happens next? They will tell you what work is like for students in the USA, what documents you need to submit, and how to get to America. You will need to fill out forms and pay a service fee. How much does the program cost? The participation price is 1300-1500 dollars. For this money the student receives:

• Assistance in preparing documents;
• Medical insurance;
• Search for work using free sources;
• Orientation materials;
• America's Guide;
• 24/7 support in Russia and the USA.

The Work and Travel USA 2017 program may include airfare, but if you decide to save money, you'll have to buy it yourself. Additionally, agencies provide assistance in finding housing, which is quite convenient, but the cost of participation increases accordingly. CMO Working and partners usually provide a guaranteed loan - if you do not have money, payment can be deferred until you return home.

When all the documents have been collected, an interview will take place at the US Embassy. It is necessary to prepare thoroughly for the interview, as you will be asked a complex question. The consul will check how well you speak the language and whether such knowledge is enough to live and work in the States. Questions at the embassy will help find out how independent a person is, whether he can psychologically live away from his family. An important point will be the question of the student’s intentions: whether the student will decide to stay in America illegally.

If the Work and Travel interview was successful, you will be issued a j1 visa, and the agency will give a “farewell” lecture, where they will tell you tips on how to pass an interview with an employer, where it is better to go, which state to choose. Accordingly, they will talk about taxation and tax refunds, partners and sponsors. The most famous partners in the CIS countries: Startravel, Anyway, Ambassador, Intex, Sonata, Kset, Columbus.

Which city to go to, where to work, income level

An important issue is the purely practical side of participation in Work and Travel. Students are worried about which city to go to, which company to contact for employment, and how much they can earn. The most popular destination is New York, a metropolis where there is always a shortage of unskilled personnel. What is attractive about this city? It allows you to experience American life, and on weekends you can travel to Washington, Boston, Niagara Falls, the canyons of Arizona and Nevada, and the coast of two oceans.

You can also go to any State. Both Texas and Alaska open up for you. However, you must understand that summer in the southern states, for example, in Florida, will be very hot, so ask yourself, are you ready for dry weather and constant heat?

Having arrived in the chosen city under the Work and Travel program, you are not at all obliged to sit still - you can work in any state, combine several vacancies, trying to earn more money. To make a summer job a reality, you need to create a resume. The agency will provide you with a sample, or you can find a video resume on the Internet on YouTube, filling out all the necessary fields yourself.

Where can a foreign student find a job? Young people are in demand in various industries, so Russian students work:

• Waiters in restaurants, fast food cafes;
• Cashiers in supermarkets;
• Sellers in stores;
• Maids in hotels;
• Administrative assistants in hotels;
• Rescuers on the coasts;
• Attraction operators.

You can find a job - Travel Job Offer on your own, if you speak English well, there will certainly not be any difficulties, although you must receive an invitation from the employer in advance in the form of an application letter.

Earnings depend on the amount of working time and your expenses. Accordingly, the employment rate is about $7-11 per hour. The weekly schedule involves 40 hours of work - 8 daily, excluding weekends. Recycling is allowed, paid at one and a half times more expensive. The student needs to calculate how much he will earn and how much he will spend. It would be useful to study the experience of compatriots, reviews of participants about Work and Travel.

Common Student Mistakes

When preparing for a trip to the States, you should carefully study the conditions of participation, analyze the pros and cons, and understand what difficulties you will encounter. There is a list of the most common mistakes when moving under the Work and Travel program:

• Didn't book tickets or rooms. It is recommended to book a hotel and plane ticket in advance, so you will be sure that the cost will be lower and you will not be left on the street;
• Let's go without money. You need to bring cash and at least a thousand dollars on your card. You should discuss in advance with your relatives the possibility of promptly transferring funds in an emergency - fortunately, this takes a few minutes;
• You don't know English. The level of English must be sufficient. You need to at least tighten it up a little; in America you won’t communicate well after moving;
• You take a lot of unnecessary things. There is no need to drag a suitcase of clothes; in the States you can buy branded items for a ridiculous price. Optimal luggage should be minimal;
• You are bringing electrical appliances - you can also buy them in America, especially since the voltage in the sockets is 110V - the usual equipment will not work. Buy adapters in advance;
• Didn’t take care of the workplace - having received a work permit at the International Exchange Center, check whether the employer is really waiting for you or whether the document is fake - this also happens;
• If you neglect security measures, you should not joke with the law and hope for chance. In the USA they also get robbed - especially in tourist and disadvantaged areas, so you should not carry large sums of money with you, and also take a passport - if it is stolen, there will be a lot of problems;
• You just work without devoting time to rest. Of course, the desire to bring home more money is commendable, but still remember that there is only one life, and there are many attractions in America - take at least a little time to explore them.

Plan your trip to the USA carefully, study not only Wikipedia, but also specialized forums and blogs. Stock up on at least the minimum amount of funds, warn your family about the trip, find travel companions - and then your stay will be pleasant and useful.

Is it possible to stay in the USA after participating in the program?

Having arrived in the States for the summer, many students are so captivated by American life that they wonder: how to stay after Work and Travel? There are several possibilities for this:

• Get a tourist visa for six months, but you will not be able to work legally in America;
• Become a student in the USA and, accordingly, stay for the duration of your studies;
• To ask for political asylum requires compelling reasons;
• Marry a US citizen.

Some boys and girls who have been in the States remain illegally, but this risky method guarantees you will soon end up in immigration prison and deportation. It's also worth considering whether you want to give up everything for the elusive American dream. There are people who left for the USA, nothing worked out for them abroad, but it’s also difficult to return to their homeland - they fell out of their social circle.

Visiting the distant United States of America is the dream of many students. But just traveling to this country is not a cheap pleasure, and not all students can afford it. The Work and Travel USA program is a great chance for students who want to travel and gain foreign experience. The founders of the program offer a combination of leisure and work, comfortable living conditions and the opportunity to earn a decent amount of money. It sounds tempting... But in order for everything in reality to be as rosy and healthy as in the pictures and slogans of the program, you need to study the information about it in detail and know the answers to the following questions.

Work and Travel USA, which translates as Work and Travel to the USA, is the name of the most popular international student exchange program. The quota for participants in this program, allocated annually by the State Department, is over 100,000 places. The goal of the program is to provide students with full-time education in higher educational institutions and secondary specialized educational institutions.

This is an opportunity to directly participate in the daily life of the people of the United States of America by traveling and working (temporarily for about 4 months) during the summer holidays. At the end of the program, participants are given the opportunity to travel around the country for 30 days without the right to work (“grace period”).

Who can participate in the program?

Not everyone can participate in the program. There are certain requirements: you must be a full-time student at a university, know English at a conversational level, and be between 18 and 26 years old. If you meet all the criteria, the following is the procedure for collecting documents and funds to move to the USA.

So, a package of documents:

• a valid passport and its copies;
• a valid foreign passport and its copies;
• a confirmation certificate from the educational institution, which proves that you are a full-time student;
• student ID and its copy;
• documentary photo 3x4 cm - 4 pcs., 5x5 cm - 2 pcs.

How much does it cost to become a Work and Travel member?

Having decided to become a participant in the Work and Travel program and having collected a package of documents, you then need to contact an agency offering a similar service. Finding an official website on the Internet is not difficult; almost every major city in any country has such an agency. There, experts will tell you about work for students in the USA and prices.

You will also need to fill out special forms and pay a service fee. Participation in the program is not free, the price varies from 1300 to 1500 dollars. This amount includes:

• assistance in paperwork;
• medical insurance;
• job search using free sources;
• guide to America;
• orientation materials;
• 24/7 support in your country and the USA.

The Work and Travel program may include airfare to America. If you want to save money, you will have to buy tickets yourself. Agencies provide assistance in finding housing for an additional fee, which is very convenient.

Interview with the US Consul

Collecting all documents is a painstaking, but not the most difficult stage in preparing for participation. The most serious and crucial moment is the interview with the consul at the US Embassy. You should carefully prepare for the interview, as it will be a complex survey. During the conversation you will be tested to see how well you speak the language and whether your knowledge is sufficient to live and work in America. The survey will determine how independent a person is and how strong he is psychologically. One of the main questions will be about the student’s goals and intentions: whether the student plans to stay in the United States illegally.

If you successfully complete this stage, a j1 visa will be issued, and the agency will hold a so-called “farewell” lecture dedicated to tips for passing an interview with an employer. Experts will tell you where it is better to go, which direction/state to choose, inform you about taxation and tax refunds, as well as about partners and sponsors.

Where is the best place to work?

During the practical stage of participation in Work and Travel, important issues that interest students include direction, place of employment, wages and specifics of work. As a rule, the work does not require any specific knowledge or physical effort - students are offered simple, not highly paid (by local standards) jobs: waiters in restaurants, fast food cafes; cashiers in supermarkets; shop assistants; hotel maids; administrative assistants in hotels; rescuers on the coasts; attraction operators, etc.

New York is recognized as the most popular destination. This is a metropolis where there is a constant shortage of unskilled personnel. In addition, this city is attractive because it allows you to fully experience American life. On weekends you can go to Washington, Boston, see the Niagara Falls, the canyons of Arizona and Nevada, and the coast of two oceans.

Having arrived in the chosen city, you can work in any state, combining two or more vacancies, in order to earn more money. You can look for a job on your own, for this you need to speak English, then there will be no difficulties. However, an invitation from the employer must be received in advance in the form of an application letter.

The participant's earnings will depend on the amount of working time (the number of hours worked) and his expenses. Typically, the hiring rate is about $7-11 per hour. The weekly work schedule involves 40 hours - 8 daily, except weekends. Recycling is also allowed, which costs one and a half times more.

Common mistakes participants make

When preparing to take part in the program, you should carefully study the information about it (conditions, requirements), analyze the pros and cons, and evaluate the difficulties that you will encounter. There are a number of common mistakes that participants make.

Unbooked tickets and rooms. When traveling to the USA, it is recommended to book a hotel and air ticket in advance, so the cost will be lower and you will not end up on the street.

A lack of money. The participant must have cash and a certain amount on the card. If possible, you should discuss with your relatives the option of promptly transferring funds in case of emergency - today this is possible within a few minutes.

Lots of unnecessary things. There is no need to drag a suitcase of clothes with you; in the States you can buy branded items at a low price. Try to keep the optimal luggage to a minimum.

Electrical appliances. In America, the voltage in outlets is 110 V, so your usual equipment will not work, so stock up on adapters in advance.

Workplace. When obtaining a work permit at the International Exchange Center, make sure that the employer is really waiting for you, and that the document is not fake - such cases also happen.

Nutrition. Don’t rush to buy food in restaurants or cafes like McDonalds, Wendys, Burger King, etc. This pleasure is quite expensive and unhealthy. If possible, cook your own food, find any supermarket where you can find both semi-finished products and regular products. Try to stick to your usual diet, giving preference to fruits, vegetables, juices and clean water. Consume less soda water, burgers and other fast food products. Do not skimp on your health under any circumstances!

Neglect of safety measures. In the USA, you shouldn’t joke with the law, and you shouldn’t even hope for chance. In America, people also get robbed, particularly in tourist and disadvantaged areas. That's why you shouldn't carry large sums of money and a passport with you. Passport theft will bring a lot of problems.

This was my first trip under the Work and Travel program. and I can definitely say that this is not only the best summer of my life, but also the most productive! 3 months of working in a large restaurant in the cultural capital of Texas gave me a completely new level of English proficiency. Well, the final month was devoted to travel: I drove 11,000 km by car - from Los Angeles to New York. A lot of impressions, great experience and memories that will last a lifetime - that’s what I can say about the Work&Travel program. During the period of participation in the program I kept his video diary about how it really was.

I have always dreamed of spending an unforgettable summer with friends, seeing all the beauty of America. Thanks to the Work & Travel USA program, I was lucky enough to visit the Grand Canyon, enjoy Niagara Falls, feel the atmosphere of mystical New Orleans, stroll through the streets of Chicago, LA, Washington, New York, and that’s not all that I was able to capture. My friends and I managed to have a blast, make friends from all over the world and get our own idea of ​​America and Americans, and not from the media. If you have questions, you can write them to me on VKontakte, I will tell you how to competently make plans to accomplish the impossible in one summer!

Participated in the Work and Travel program from INTEX for two summers in a row. I was able to visit New York, Chicago, Philadelphia, Niagara Falls and Puerto Rico, and my friends drove across America. Of course, I had to work hard and spend a significant amount of time on it, but at the same time, I significantly improved my English. It was a little difficult at first, but after a couple of weeks everything began to improve. Thanks to the program, I learned to overcome obstacles, became independent, made friends with people from all over the world and spent an unforgettable summer.

This was my 3rd trip to Ocean City under the Work & Travel USA program. Of course, there are a lot of impressions about the summer and they are mostly positive, not only thanks to travel (this time I managed to go to Las Vegas, San Francisco, Atlanta, Virginia, Niagara, Washington and New York), but also to a large extent, quite good work - Worked at Jolly Roger Park for 3 summers in a row, but this time as a supervisor. Working at Jolly Roger is undoubtedly one of the best places for students because... The park employs about 200 employees, all from different countries. Unforgettable impressions and friendships for life.

Two summers of Work & Travel are the most unforgettable experience and the brightest adventure of my life. Work, relaxation, shopping, travel, new friends from all over the world, the ocean and independent life - I am very glad that I had this opportunity! With W&T you really start to look at the world more broadly. Everyone there experiences a sea of ​​new impressions and bright emotions. Intex team, I am very grateful to you for the quality service, for the attentive and individual approach!

With the help of the Intex team, my friend and I easily received visas under the Work and Travel program in the USA and went on a long-awaited trip. It was a great time - unforgettable, amazing, full of impressions and adventures. We spent the whole summer by the ocean, visited New York, Philadelphia, Washington, Niagara Falls and, of course, our beloved Atlantic City. Thanks to the program, we not only saw many interesting places, but also gained great experience of independent living and the opportunity to meet new friends with whom we still communicate... and memories of summer in America always only bring a smile! Thanks to the guys from Intex for helping this all come true.

For the last 3 years in the summer I went to America under the Work and Travel program, and all 3 times were simply unforgettable! I couldn’t even imagine that I could travel to Las Vegas, San Francisco, Los Angeles, look at Niagara Falls, make friends with people from all over the world, rock out at concerts of famous bands!) I fell in love with this country, with this incredible adventure! Thank you, Intex, for opening America to me!

The interview at the embassy was scheduled for the end of May. In the six months since November, when I signed an agreement with a company that provides students with the opportunity to go to the USA for the summer under the Work and Travel program, I managed to:

• pay the company three thousand dollars (two as a fee for services and one for the Job Offer, a document confirming the employer’s willingness to hire me),
• collect certificates from the university proving that I am a student,
• improve English
• and undergo several trainings on behavior at the embassy.

During the training, students were forced to memorize two sentences: “I must make it clear to the consular officer that I will return to Russia at the end of the program. I love my homeland and my family” and gave general recommendations on answers to the most common questions, of which there were about fifty on the list given to us. There were also instructions regarding appearance: for both sexes - casual, comfortable clothing that does not expose too much of the body.

There was a special “dress code” for girls: “Dear students! If you don’t have breasts, rejoice, your finest hour has come. If you have breasts, hide them somewhere. Wear the baggiest, tackiest clothes you own, tie your hair up, remove all jewelry, including earrings and piercings, and don't wear an ounce of makeup on your face. If people start shying away from you on the subway, it means you are on the right track. All this is needed to prove that you are not going to work in the USA on a panel or in a strip club. There are enough prostitutes and strippers there even without you.”

After all the above manipulations, to which I, on my own initiative, added the replacement of the usual contact lenses with thick glasses, a teenage boy, a typical “nerd,” looked at me from the mirror instead of a girl who is not asked for a passport in supermarkets when buying cigarettes.

The impression was enhanced by my slender figure and short haircut. I wasn’t sure that I had achieved exactly the effect that the coach hoped for, but there was nothing to do. By the way, within the walls of the consular section of the embassy I saw many girls who came for an interview in ultra-short shorts, from the neckline to the navel, hung with jewelry, with thickly made up eyes, etc., but, unfortunately, I can’t say anything about It was not possible to see how many of them were issued visas.

Interview

Early in the morning, company representatives brought me, along with hundreds of other students, to the consulate. Some guys came with their parents, who have a more vital function than moral support. The fact is that you cannot bring any metal objects into the building, including keys and mobile phones. So we had to take a walking storage room with us.

Here and there, whispers were heard: Russians had previously been reluctant to issue visas to the United States, and now, after the Boston terrorist attack... Many students insured themselves against visa denial, and in some cunning way - the day before I called a good dozen insurance companies, and none of them did not provide services related to the J-1 student work visa.

The guys shook thick stacks of documents - wanting to provide for any surprises, some took photocopies of all passports, certificates of parents’ salaries, printouts of laws of the United States, all the brochures issued by the company for six months, and some other completely unimaginable papers, the texts of which they tried hard to learn while waiting for your turn. And the lines at the consulate are long. Of the six hours spent in the building, about five were spent waiting.

I, rightly judging that you can’t foresee everything, and relying on fate, limited myself to working through all the questions with an English tutor a few days before the interview and practicing listening to foreign speech. My written English has always been quite good (Upper-intermediate, if you trust the teacher at the university), but speaking practice was absolutely lacking.

I had prepared a detailed story about myself, my family, pets, hometown, university and the company I would like to work for. Questions about this are usually the first to be asked. In fact, at that time I was already interning at Novaya Gazeta, but at the trainings we were advised to say that we spend all our time on studying. For the same reason, by the way, it was not recommended to mention lovers, if any - the student should only gnaw on the granite of science, without being distracted by all sorts of trifles.

The next important point in preparing for an interview is to tell us about the place in the USA where you are going to live and work. At a minimum, you need to describe the city you are going to and mention its attractions; at the maximum, you need to know the exact addresses of places of work and housing, and even the color of these buildings. I hoped that the information contained in the Job Offer would be sufficient.

If the consul wants to “fail” you, we were told at trainings, he can ask any question. What did you have for breakfast? Who was the most popular American literary and film character in the 30s? What events in US history do you consider key for the development of this country? What is the influence of American culture on Russian culture? Who was the Secretary General of the USSR after Khrushchev? Etc.

I thought that I couldn’t cope with half of these questions without preparation even in Russian, and for the other half I would definitely find some kind of answer, so I left this part without attention.

Fingerprints were required before the interview. Nothing complicated: after waiting for your turn, you go to the window, one by one press your fingers against a special device, simultaneously communicating with the consulate employee sitting behind the glass of the window.

I got a cheerful middle-aged woman who asked in English with a wide smile: “Are you worried?” and wishing you a good day in response to the phrase carefully learned the day before: “Yes, this is my first experience of talking with a native speaker” (this is what they advised to use at trainings in case of misunderstanding of foreign speech, and not to repeat like an idol: “I don`t understand, repeat please slowly") And only then, after several hours of agonizing waiting, we had the interview itself.

Standing in front of the office where the “Last Judgment” was taking place, the spontaneously drawn together students looked with bated breath at the papers with which those who had been shot came out. Green – refusal, white – documents accepted for consideration, a decision will be made later. There were disproportionately more of the former.

Then I was surprised that all the guys left the office with stone faces: there were no tears or cries of joy. Later, when I brought out my treasured white sheet of paper, I understood the reasons for such a meager expression of emotions - the interview causes such stress that in the end it is difficult to figure out what the consul is thrusting at you and what it threatens you with.

They were allowed into the office in groups of 3-5 people, and there again they had to wait, sitting on hard chairs, until one or another window was free. We looked at the faces of the consuls, separated from us by thick glass, and monitored the number of refusals, trying to guess which one was best to go to. However, in fact, nothing depended on us - the order of the live queue did not allow the possibility of choosing windows at our own discretion.

I was lucky to meet a friendly-looking girl who handed out the largest number of white sheets. With a smile on her face, she asked me a few formal questions, for which I was well prepared - where I study, where I live, what I will work in the USA - and then asked what was so special about Branson, the town in Missouri to which I was heading. While waiting, I managed to study the Job Offer, which is a mini-guide, inside and out, and therefore quickly talked about the city’s attractions.

Finally, the girl inquired about my actions in the event of attempts at enslavement by an American employer, but I was already savvy in this matter - it was not for nothing that the company gave us thick brochures about slavery, the first paragraph of which literally read: “Do not agree if you are offered into slavery".

There were no questions about breakfast, movie characters, or general secretaries. Without stopping to smile, the consul returned my documents to me - except for the international passport - along with a white sheet, and after a couple of weeks I received a call from the company informing me about the opportunity to pick up a passport with a visa from the consulate delivery service.

Arrival in the USA, flight cancellation, lost luggage

I waited until the last minute to buy tickets - I was waiting for visas to be issued to other Russians who were going to Branson. After more than six months of preparation, I still didn’t have a company, and I didn’t want to fly to another continent alone. But alas, only I received a visa, and on June 26, two days before departure, after a five-hour search, the best flight option was chosen: from Moscow to New York JFK Airport, and from there a few hours later - a direct flight to Kansas City, a large city in Missouri. There I had to spend the night in a hotel, and in the morning take a bus to Branson. But, as they say, they drew on paper...

Everything went according to plan until arriving in New York. I endured the first ten-hour flight in my life surprisingly well, fortunately, a small TV with a large assortment of films, games and audiobooks was built into the back of each seat, allowing me to pass the time without dying of boredom. Even the need to abstain from smoking for half a day did not drive me crazy, which is what I feared.

The adventure began at JFK airport when I found the right terminal and looked at the board. The flight to Kansas City was delayed for five hours - from 17 to 22. My hopes of arriving there before dark and spending the night comfortably in some hotel collapsed like a house of cards, but what could I do? Resign yourself and wait.

It was very cold at the airport - as I later learned, in almost every room in America in the summer the air conditioners work at full capacity - and, having decided to kill two birds with one stone - to warm up and practice my spoken English - I headed to the nearest cafe for a glass of coffee . And then the habit of not delving into the names and composition of products played a cruel joke on me: I was given a disposable glass of something spicy-smelling, half filled with ice. The temperature of the drink was approaching absolute zero, and this circumstance did not give me the opportunity to evaluate its taste.

Realizing that I was not destined to warm up in the near future, I settled down in a leather chair and delved into a book. Every now and then, glancing at the board, I noticed that each time the red inscription “Canceled” replaced the time numbers opposite an increasing number of flight numbers. “The weather is bad,” airport workers explained. And then, in one far from wonderful moment, I saw this sad word next to my flight.

I won’t tell you in detail how I, having forgotten all my English from fatigue - don’t forget, a ten-hour flight plus another four hours of waiting - tried to get from the company representatives the free food and overnight stay in a hotel required in such cases, not to mention tickets on the next plane.

As a result of a two-hour ordeal, only the latter was possible - I was given tickets for a morning flight with a transfer in Atlanta, and I, realizing that I could not achieve more, tried to surround myself with some kind of comfort: I ordered a large and hot coffee from a cafe, deciding not to take any more risks with beautiful names, took one of the blankets that they began to give out at the airport due to multiple cancellations, lay down on the carpet between two rows of seats, putting a bag under her head, and tried to sleep for at least a few hours. In Russian airports, bench-type seating allows you to sit comfortably, but in America, passengers are asked to sit on chairs separated from each other by high armrests, and I was not the only person whileing out the night on the floor.

What made the situation especially poignant was the fact that I had run out of vasoconstrictor nasal drops, without which a chronic runny nose does not allow me to breathe, and their supply remained in my suitcase, which had long been checked in as luggage, and I could only get it upon arrival in Kansas City .

There were no more problems along the way, and the next morning, approaching the baggage carousel at my destination, I was already looking forward to the opportunity to finally breathe through my nose and not my mouth like a sick dog, and then go to a hotel where there was a shower and a soft bed (I managed to sleep on the floor at the airport for only about three hours, and even this state of numbness could hardly be called sleep)... But that was not the case.

One of the belts stopped, the other continued to spin idly, not spitting out new backpacks, bags and suitcases, and my luggage was not on any of them. I walked around both carousels several times, hoping that my eyes were deceiving me, but no. My small gray suitcase, which, in addition to medicine, contained my clothes, laptop, camera, chargers for all devices and little things dear to my heart, disappeared.

I stayed on another continent, where I had no relatives or acquaintances, in shorts, a T-shirt and a knitted blouse that served more for decoration than for warmth, with a dying phone without an American SIM card, with half a pack of cigarettes, with a spare money - on a card and in cash - and with all documents.

After everything I had experienced the day before, I wanted to sit on the floor and cry, kicking my legs, but I gritted my teeth and went to the luggage department, where, calling on the remnants of my English, I explained the situation and received assurances that the luggage would be searched intensively. But what should I do next?

Lighting one cigarette after another on a bench in front of the airport building, I, in an attempt to collect my scattered thoughts, wrote something like the following on the back of the ticket receipt:

1. Don't get hysterical.
2. I need a pharmacy.
3. I need an American SIM card to call my employer, who promised to meet me when I get to Branson.
4. I need to get to Branson (by the way, it is located about three hundred kilometers from Kansas City).

Do I need to remind you that I was on another continent after a day and a half on the road, with virtually no sleep, without the ability to breathe normally for more than ten hours, with a very weak understanding of American reality? I didn’t even know if any medicines were sold in pharmacies without a doctor’s prescription, and what’s more, I didn’t remember what a pharmacy was called in English!

And the only thing that the clouded consciousness did was to introduce a common stereotype, gleaned from films and books, that the police are used to solve any problems in America. So, I needed to find a policeman, who, as I believed, would definitely be at the airport.

For this purpose, I turned to a brutal man in a security guard’s uniform who was standing at the door, rightly reasoning that who, if not the security guards, should contact the police.

But instead of simply providing me with what I required, he began to ask what happened to me and why I needed law enforcement agencies, then he led me to the reception desk, but by that time my knowledge of English had completely left me, and, as I felt, my consciousness would soon will follow them,” I completely ceased to understand the words addressed to me and only babbled something about “the store where they buy medicine,” the hotel, luggage and Branson, struggling with dizziness.

I didn’t even immediately notice that the short young Vietnamese who had joined the guard and the girl at the reception desk at that moment, who had taken the conversation into his own hands, was wearing a black uniform, familiar to Russians from the cult comedy “Police Academy.” Realizing that I wouldn’t get much use, Duke—that was the policeman’s name, as I found out later—found a Russian-speaking translator on the phone and, with his help, finally found out what I wanted.

And then events developed like in a fairy tale. Duke got me a voucher from the airline representatives for a free night at the airport hotel, found out what kind of medicine I needed, took me to the hotel in his work car, where he handed me over to the girls at the reception (I heard him ask at this: “You don’t have a translator? Her English is very limited”), and promised to pick me up in the evening, after work, and take me to the pharmacy. The last thing I thought about as I fell asleep on the huge soft bed in my room was that at least some stereotype turned out to be true.

Duke, already in civilian clothes, actually knocked on the door of my room a few hours later and handed me a box of nasal spray - it wasn’t exactly what I needed, but it was better than nothing. However, he did not consider his mission completed at this point and offered to take me to the city to show me the bus station from which I had to get to Branson when my luggage was found (I wanted to believe that it was “when”, not “if”).

The policeman prepared thoroughly for the meeting with me: he installed an English-Russian translator on his phone and in the car (no longer his official one, but his own) he began to communicate with me using it, until he suddenly discovered with amazement that I was still answering his questions. before I see the translation.

“Your English is good,” he noted, putting away the phone. – Apparently you were just very nervous this morning?

I bloomed with pride and supported the dialogue, thoroughly answering Duke’s questions and asking my own. The road to the city center was not close - in most parts of America in general, as I later found out, the distances to vital facilities such as shops and institutions are disproportionately greater than in Russia - and by the time we arrived at the bus station we were already chatting like old acquaintances.

I learned that Duke is a Native American (I don't know what generation), but has friends all over the world, and therefore felt sympathy for a foreigner in trouble. However, he did not consider that he was doing anything for me that went beyond the scope of his work.

“If I came to Russia and the same thing happened to me, they would help me in the same way.” Apparently, due to skepticism, which, despite all efforts, had slipped into my gaze, he asked how the police were treated in Russia.

I don’t know which feeling was stronger when I answered his question - shame for my homeland or gratitude to this ordinary American policeman who began his career several years ago in the army.

At the Greyhound stop, a well-known American bus network, Duke found out that a bus to Branson runs once a day at nine in the morning, a ticket costs $64, and the trip takes about four hours.

After that, he asked if I needed anything else, and I said about a SIM card and a phone charger. Then he took me to a small electronics store where his friends worked and helped me with the purchase. All the time, while the sellers were setting up my phone and filling out the documents for the SIM card, two cheerful dogs, similar to beagles, that lived in the store were rushing around us.

- Do you have animals? – I asked, watching Duke petting the dogs.

“No,” he smiled. “I can’t even take care of myself, let alone animals.”

- Do you work hard? – I suggested.

“I’m barely working, but still,” he laughed (untranslatable play on words: “Hard” - hard, “hardly” - barely).

When I got a SIM card and a charger, Duke asked if I was hungry, and, having heard an affirmative answer, he took me to a cafe, where he treated me at his own expense. But the miracles did not end there: having found out that my supply of cigarettes also remained in the suitcase (he had been sharing his with me all evening before), the policeman volunteered to buy them for me at the nearest gas station and returned, in addition to two packs of Marlboros, with two bags of snacks and water.

In parting, having delivered me to the hotel door, he took my phone number, once again asked me to let me know when my luggage was found, and without hesitation to call if I needed anything else, and shook my hand.

The next morning, I took the free bus to the airport, where I found out that my luggage had been found and taken to the hotel. Not believing my luck, I returned and, telling the girl at the reception my last name, received my small gray suitcase, so beloved and dear. Clothes, laptop, camera, chargers, first aid kit and cigarettes returned to me!

The bus to Branson had long since left, and I, having paid for an additional day, spent that day at the hotel, enjoying the long-awaited comfort, reading a book and devouring the chips and cookies presented to the caring police officers. The thought that in a couple of days I would be in a similar hotel in the role of a maid did not leave me.

The next morning, with the help of the girl from the reception, I called a taxi and arrived at the bus stop an hour and a half before the bus departure, as Duke advised.

As usual, I whiled away the wait with a book, and when the passengers were invited to board, the stubble-covered big man who was in line behind me asked where I was from, having heard my accent when I answered the driver’s greeting on duty. A conversation began between us, and the guy asked permission to sit next to me on an almost empty bus, to which I readily agreed - it would be more fun to while away the journey, and conversational practice, after all.

My traveling companion's name was Michael, he was 26 years old, a Native American, and was going to Springfield (a relatively large city near Branson) to work as a welder for a few months.

All the way we chatted about the extreme sports that each of us was involved in, about hobbies, about each other’s families (Michael had either six or eight brothers and sisters), managed to gossip a little about other passengers and tell each other about the differences our countries - Michael knew about Russia only that it was cold there and the capital was Moscow, and someone also taught him a couple of Russian swear words.

He didn’t think about the fact that bears walk the streets in Russia until I, having decided to tell a new acquaintance about the Russian version of his name, blurted out something like: “In Russian, Michael is Misha, and they also affectionately call Misha bear For example, you have a teddy bear, you hug it and call it: Misha...”

Having learned a few more Russian words - "bear", "twenty-six", "beautiful", "bald", "sexy" and "fat" (the latter adjectives came in handy in the process of discussing our neighbors), Michael said goodbye to me in Springfield, and I walked the rest of the way to Branson, which took about half an hour, alone.

Upon arrival at the bus stop, as agreed, I called my employer, and he promised to pick me up in twenty minutes. Twenty minutes stretched into an hour and a half, and perhaps this is what determined my negative impression of him, which subsequently only strengthened.

Meeting the employer, meeting colleagues

When David - that was the name of the employer - finally arrived, I, who had previously chatted freely with both Michael and Duke and could communicate quite well in shops and cafes, thought that I had forgotten all English again. I didn’t understand a word of his speech, even after asking him many times. As it turned out later, none of the non-Americans understood David at all - apparently it was a matter of his pronunciation or speed of speech - but then I was in a state close to panic: why, I can’t explain myself to the employer!

Somehow I managed to understand that he was taking me to a house where I would live with other students, and the next morning he would come and we would discuss everything about my work.

In a nice two-story house, I was met by Turkish student Salih, who helped me lift my suitcase to the second tier, where the girls’ bedroom was located. My appearance woke up the Turkish women Aisha and Mellie, who were resting after a day of work. The first thing they said to me when they invited me to sit on the king-size bed was: “They will ask you for a $200 deposit on the house - don’t give it up! We were told that it would not be returned later!” Without bothering to explain what the deposit was and who required it, they began vying with each other to tell me that the work was hellish, and the house was located on the outskirts - “in the deep forest” - and without the help of a taxi it was impossible to get to either shops or clubs , nor to any other benefits of civilization. And all this is in broken English, even more broken than mine.

The house was small but cozy: on the first tier there was a spacious kitchen with a table, a coffee table and two sofas, a bedroom for the guys and their bathroom, as well as access to a balcony where a table and several chairs could be freely placed.

On the second tier, located directly under the roof and not separated from the first by walls, there were two beds - a double bed, occupied by Aisha and Mellie, and a bunk bed, the upper “floor” of which I took for myself, as well as a chest of drawers, a bedside table, a dressing room and a bathroom.

Soon, two more Turkish guys returned from work - Onil and Cetin, or simply Chet, and we went to the neighboring house, where another couple of Turks, Chinese and Kazakhs lived. There I met a Kazakh woman, Balzhan, who was able to answer my questions.

It turned out that the work was tiring, but not too much (on this point Balzhan and I later differed in our views); civilization can be reached simply by asking the Russian-speaking Armenian Miko, a driver whose duties include only taking us to work and back, but who willingly takes students to the store or to the beach - and David or his colleagues actually take a $200 deposit, but promise to return it.

After staying a little more with friendly neighbors, we returned home. It was July 1st and my first night in Branson.

First day. Walk to Springfield

The next morning, David actually arrived in a white minivan, but instead of talking to me about work, he offered to go to Springfield with students who needed to get a Social Security Number (an identification number used primarily for tax purposes). It was too early for me to receive it - I had to wait at least 10 days upon arrival - but I needed to buy food and shoes for work, so I agreed.

The Job Offer only stated that the maid must have black trousers and comfortable shoes with closed heels and toes, and I was sure that the red sneakers I had brought with me would be suitable, but David said that the shoes must certainly be black, so I was prepared splurge on a pair of ballet flats.

In addition to several Chinese people, my yesterday’s acquaintance Balzhan and Kazakh girls from other houses – Dina, Nagima, Botha and Sasha – were already sitting on the bus. The road to Springfield was a long one, and we started talking.

The girls said that they came to America with the goal of earning more money, and therefore desperately save money, eating only pasta, and looking for a second job. They even got from New York to Kansas City not by plane, but by bus - the trip would have taken thirty hours, which in itself is a lot, if the bus had not broken down somewhere near Springfield and they would not have had to wait for a new one for six hours.

I was initiated into the intricacies of working as a maid at the Grand Plaza Hotel, where my new acquaintances worked. It is easier there than in other hotels, they said, because the maids work in pairs and can split up - one, for example, cleans the bathroom, and the other in the room. The rooms are divided into two types: stay-over, where guests still live, and there you only need to change towels, take out the trash and make the beds, and check-out, which needs to be completely cleaned after previous clients in order to prepare for a new check-in. The hardest thing is to work on weekends, the girls explained, as there is a mass departure of guests and the number of check-outs goes through the roof.

Meanwhile we reached Springfield. David dropped off my travel companions at the Social Security office and me at the grocery store.

Entering the store, I realized that “eyes run wild” is not a figurative expression at all. From books, films and stories from my parents, I knew what impression Soviet people felt when they found themselves in the shopping centers of decaying capitalism, but now, I thought, nothing would surprise Russians.

I was wrong. If in Soviet times there were two types of sausage on store shelves, and twenty-two on the shelves somewhere in Germany, now, relatively speaking, all two hundred were in front of me. Hands automatically grabbed bright boxes, packaging and bags and placed them in the cart. It seemed that it would take more than one year to try all the variety of products at least once.

I was surprised that it is much more difficult to find ordinary food in an American store than low-calorie food. I, who have never been on a diet a day in my life, cannot stand “low-fat, calorie-free, cholesterol-free, flavoring, coloring, sugar and salt-identical products,” but, for example, out of ten types of milk on the shelf, the fat content is higher than 2% only three. This arrangement of things seemed even more surprising considering that I had never seen so many fat people as in America anywhere else.

Another stereotype did not lie - every third person I looked at was overweight, ranging from mild obesity to unimaginable obesity. However, maybe Americans begin to think about healthy food when the scales tip exceeds one hundred and fifty?

Also, while studying the local population, I noticed that when it comes to clothing, the vast majority of Americans prefer comfort over style. It seemed that people did not bother to change their home clothes for the trip to the shopping center - and this was not a small store in a residential building, where most Russians come running in a robe and slippers.

And overweight people didn’t try to disguise their excess weight at all. Girls in microshorts that tightly hugged hips with a volume twice as large as my waist, and two-hundred-pound women in tight, eye-catching T-shirts studded with rhinestones were observed at every step. However, the men did not lag behind them.

True, occasionally there were girls who came shopping with evening makeup and ten-centimeter stilettos. But everyone I met immediately broke into a smile and wished me a good day, and the words “Excuse me” - “Sorry” - were sprinkled by the Americans at every step.

It seemed that even if you ran over someone with a cart, he would get up and, smiling with thirty-two teeth, politely say: “Excuse me!”

After the grocery store, David took us to the clothing store, where I bought my black ballet flats and wandered around the mall. A small rock store caught my attention - while in Moscow such establishments shyly hide somewhere in the basements of informal shops, in the USA they peacefully coexist with fashion boutiques.

Having gone out into the street fifteen minutes before the time appointed by David, I found Balzhan there, and we began to discuss with her our impressions of what we had seen, when suddenly a guy passing by, having heard our speech, asked in pure Russian:

- Hi, how are you?

It turned out that 23-year-old Sasha - that was the name of his compatriot - came to America from Ukraine two years ago under a similar student program and remained in it, managing to prove his status as a political refugee.

“At first it was, of course, difficult,” he said. “I didn’t know the language at all, I had to work three jobs, work for food. Without education, nothing else can happen here. Now I work as a salesman in a store.

David arrived and was already pressing the horn, and there was no time left to talk with Sasha, so we quickly exchanged phone numbers and agreed to call soon.

When I slammed the door of the minibus behind me, it turned out that three more Kazakh women were missing.

“I don’t care,” David barked and stepped on the gas. - It's your own fault. I said: be at the entrance at 16.05!

Those remaining in the car began to convince him to return, and in the end David, swearing, heeded their pleas. When he turned around and drove up to the doors of the shopping center again, two girls ran out, immediately jumped into the car, and

David, not listening to anyone else, rushed away.

A Kazakh woman named Bota remained in the store, who did not have a watch with her and who was unexpectedly lost by her friends, who had previously gone together. Botha did not have a bag, and therefore her phone and wallet were left with another girl, who took them for safekeeping.

Realizing what awaited the unfortunate woman, left alone in another city without money or communication, the Kazakh women began desperately to persuade David to return, but all in vain.

- These are her problems. I said that I was leaving at 16.05. I'm not going to wait for you all until the evening.

I later learned that Botha, having discovered that she had been left in a hopeless situation, asked the store employee to call a taxi, intending to pay when she arrived, and was already waiting for the car when David returned for her - having already taken us all home. It would be better not to come back, she said, - no one had ever yelled at her like that.

It is clear that this incident did not increase anyone’s love for David.

It was Tuesday - “Shopping-day”, and in the evening, when everyone returned from work, the driver Miko gathered students from all over the cottage community and took them to the Branson department store, where they could buy everything - from food to, it seems, an atomic bomb, and cheaply . I had already purchased groceries, and therefore only purchased some household items.

“Tomorrow at eight in the morning, go out with your neighbors, I’ll take you to work,” Miko said goodbye.

First work day

At eight in the morning, as agreed, the six of us - me and five Turkish neighbors - boarded a minibus. Miko picked up the Kazakhs and Chinese from other houses and took us to the Grand Plaza Hotel, where most of the students worked.

“Today you will be given a personal number, which you will need to enter twice a day on a special machine - at the beginning and at the end of the working day,” the Kazakh women said. “In the meantime, you should be given a uniform shirt and paired with someone.”

The head maid, a lean middle-aged woman named Amber, demanded that I remove my eyebrow piercing and baubles from my wrists, gave me a shirt that was, to put it mildly, the wrong size - it almost reached my knees - and said that my ballet shoes were too revealing and by tomorrow I must get other shoes. Then she said that today I would work with Chet, a Turkish neighbor, and that he would explain to me all the intricacies of the work.

Chet knew English better than anyone else and gave the impression of being a smart guy - everyone’s favorite handsome man, generous with his smiles and never missing an opportunity to chat with anyone on any topic.

Apparently, he didn't care who he worked with. In the staff room, which doubled as a storage area and a canteen, he collected a whole bag of toilet paper, wet wipes, bags of tea, coffee and sugar, disposable cups, small bottles of body lotion - in short, everything that was required to be left in the rooms. He filled another bag with towels and bed linen from the laundry room nearby, and, looking like a young Santa Claus, headed to the service elevator - we got the sixth floor. I followed him.

In the service room on the right floor, a large cart was waiting for us, filled with bottles with some solutions and all sorts of small things like paper cup holders, tip envelopes, advertising magazines and brochures. A large plastic garbage bag was attached to one side, a textile bag was attached to the other for dirty laundry, and the inside of the cart was filled with towels and linen. Chet deftly put everything in its place and, armed with a schedule where stay-overs were marked in yellow and check-outs in red, he went to the door of the nearest room.

- Housekeeping! – he shouted, knocking on the door. There was no reaction, and the Turk opened the door with a universal key card.

“Stay-over,” he stated, looking at the things scattered around the room. - In general, look...

As it turned out later, the teacher from Chet was not so hot. Or maybe he was just sparing me? One way or another, on the first day I only learned how to wipe the bathtubs, make the beds correctly, beautifully arrange tea, coffee, sugar and disposable cups near the coffee machine that was available in each room, throw out the garbage, put clean garbage bags in the trash cans (even in this in fact, there were some tricks - you had to tie knots in the corners in a special way) and take dirty towels out of the bathroom. Chet did the rest of the work, and I was so absorbed in my mission that I didn’t even notice what it was.

We worked from 8.30 to 16.00 - sometimes, if there were few rooms, we could finish earlier - and we were entitled to three breaks: ten minutes - at 10.25 and 14.00 - and a half-hour at 12. According to the Job Offer, we were supposed to be given free food once a day - well, that’s what they provided us with. During the first ten minute break.

This means that in ten minutes you need to have time to get up from your floor to the ninth - on foot along the stairs or in the always busy service elevator - take a plate, add fried potatoes or scrambled eggs (that’s all we could eat in the guest restaurant), pour water into the mug you brought with you (disposable cups were not allowed), go down to the first floor, to the dining room, eat, wash the dishes after yourself and return to your workplace. Oh, didn't you have time? Well, it’s your problem - we provided the food, the break lasts ten minutes, be kind enough to keep up or, if you can’t, don’t eat.

Having figured out this system, I subsequently used the first “break time” as a cigarette break, and in the second I bought a chocolate bar and a bottle of water from the vending machine located on each floor. But the Kazakhs did nothing - they managed to eat, and even tuck a couple of donuts and fruits under their shirts along the way.

This was my first physical job, and despite such a small set of responsibilities that Chet gave me, after the first three hours I fell off my feet. Don’t get me wrong: by that time I had experience of independent living and was quite capable of maintaining order in a two-room apartment alone, where two adults and a small kitten lived, but the need to clean identical hotel rooms for several hours in a row turned out to be too heavy a burden for me .

At the end of the working day, when Chet and I were joined by Kazakh women who had been released ahead of time, I, disregarding decency, sat down in the corridor right on the floor, fearing that for the first time in my life I would lose consciousness.

My head was spinning, my lower back was aching and my legs hurt terribly. Burning with shame, I cursed the day when it occurred to me that I, accustomed to intellectual work, could cope with hard physical work. Now the coming month seemed to me like a continuous endless torture.

Chet and the Kazakh women finished cleaning, looking at me with a mixture of surprise and pity, and we went down to the first floor, to the staff room. There was still an hour left before Miko arrived, and I decided to go to the mall with Chet - I needed to buy other shoes. The journey there and back took forty minutes - in thick work clothes, over the hills, under the scorching sun...

In general, that day I did not go home, but crawled. I didn’t even have the strength to make myself a sandwich - I just lay flat on the sofa for several hours, like a fish thrown ashore. None of my neighbors or colleagues looked so tired. I could only hope that I would soon get used to my new job.

Second working day

The next day I was placed third with the Kazakh woman Botha - the same one that David left in Springfield - and the 25-year-old American Richard, who showed her unambiguous signs of attention. Richard specialized in bathrooms, and Botha and I were tasked with tidying up the rooms.

I learned that at check-outs you need to change all the linen on the beds, fold pillows in a special way, wipe dust from all, even clean, surfaces using a solution with the cheerful name “Alcohol”, wash the small refrigerators that were in each room , and vacuuming, as well as making sure that all the little things like booklets, envelopes and laundry bags are in place. It was easier to work with Botha, perhaps because we spoke the same language.

Richard, apparently feeling neglected, kept looking out of the bathroom and making monotonous jokes at Botha in the style of “You’re my chick, I’m your boyfriend.” Occasionally, Amber or Amy, another head maid, would come to check on our work, and then we would stop talking and intensely imitate a flurry of activity. However, despite all my efforts, I couldn’t match Botha’s speed and that’s why I felt guilty.

The rooms were of varying degrees of cleanliness. At check-outs, sometimes it was enough just to change the linen and smear a rag on the countertop a couple of times for appearance, and sometimes it was necessary, overcoming disgust, to collect the garbage scattered on the floor and wash the refrigerator of some incomprehensible rubbish.

There were rooms in which the water from the bathtub was not drained. And the disgusting stains on the towels and bed linen left one wondering what the guests were doing. However, it was my job, and I did everything necessary without complaining. Sometimes there were tips - on average, two to five dollars per person per day. However, I suspect that the lion's share of the green pieces of paper from the envelopes was taken by the senior maids who inspected the check-outs in the morning.

Stay-overs were less varied: almost all of them were in terrible chaos. Mountains of garbage lay on the floor next to the trash can, clothes and food were scattered throughout the room, and in order to get to the bed, it was necessary to demonstrate miracles of acrobatics, jumping over the rubble.

I would understand this attitude to order if the duties of the maids included putting things in their places, but we only had to take out the garbage (what is lying more than half a meter from the trash can is no longer garbage; maybe people collect empty bottles and candy wrappers?), change towels and make beds. I can’t speak for all Americans, but most of the guests at the Grand Plaza Hotel apparently liked living in a pigsty.

At home, a familiar picture awaited me: Chet, Onil and Salih worked hard at two jobs, and therefore often returned home after midnight, but the Turks from another cottage were constantly hanging out with us - a guy and a girl, friends of my neighbors. They were noisy, they left behind heaps of garbage and dirty dishes, which they did not consider necessary to clean up, and behind their polite smiles there were hidden small dirty tricks, which individually I might not have paid attention to, but all together they formed a repulsive picture ...

Third day of work

On the third day of work, I realized that it was a sin to complain about the first two.

It all started innocently: I was paired with an American woman, whose name meant nothing to me, but at 8.30 she didn’t show up. She wasn’t there even at 8.50, and by that time I had too little understanding of the organization of daily work to work alone, so I found Amber and asked her to provide me with a partner.

I hoped that I would be allowed to join Botha or the other Kazakh women again, but no - Amber assigned me a fat, sullen Mexican woman, who immediately declared that she would only deal with the beds and leave everything else to me.

I thought doomedly that with such methods I would cope well in a day with ten check-outs out of twenty-five (it was Friday - the day when many left the hotel), and then after work I would most likely be taken away from the hotel by ambulance. Besides, after the day with Botha and Richard, I had very little idea of ​​how to tidy up bathrooms.

I told Amber about all this when she came to check on us once again.

“Okay,” she said. - Leave the rooms - Andrew will clean them when he arrives, and you take care of the bathrooms. I'll show you how.

Bathroom work is the dirtiest and hardest job in a hotel. It was necessary to wipe every bathtub, shower and sink with a poisonous green rubbish called “Banisol”, which stung the eyes and tore the lungs (as I found out later, I was lucky - in some Kazakh women this muck, even through rubber gloves, caused terrible skin allergies ), not forgetting about the taps, which should sparkle, then wipe it all with a dry rag, then treat the toilet with a solution with the self-explanatory name “Pippin” and also dry it, and then wipe the floor with the same small rags. In addition, it was necessary to take out the trash, put a new bag in the trash can, neatly fold thirteen towels of different sizes and take care of the right amount of wet wipes, shower caps and bottles of lotion in each bathroom.

Towards the end of the working day, when the most desirable thing was to faint and wake up anywhere, as long as away from this place, a fat old woman came to our floor - as I found out later, it was Iris, the boss of all the maids - and began to scold me for slowness. I worked at the limit of my speed and knew that fatigue and inexperience had nothing to do with it. When Amber once again shouted: “Hurry up!”, I just blurted out instead of the usual “Yes, ma’am”: “I can’t.” I expected a scream, swearing - I didn’t care anymore - but the stern Amber suddenly softened and said:

- Yes, I understand that you are tired, you are very tired, but work is work, and we must do it.

When the working day ended, I wanted to fall where I was standing and die. And the new schedule still wasn’t posted in the staff room, and I didn’t know when to expect a day off. At least, definitely not on Saturday or Sunday - the busiest days, when all students work.

Fourth day

On Saturday I worked with Botha and Richard again. After the previous day spent in the company of demanding bosses and endless dirty baths, it seemed like a gift, but there was a lot of work - just have time to run. Everything went as usual, until during the first break, moved from 10.25 to 10.40, a crying Kazakh woman Dina ran into the room where we were cleaning and threw herself on my partner’s neck. She immediately took her to a free check-out, and I went outside to smoke.

Almost the entire hotel staff smoked. During each break, sitting in the shade on a bench, I listened to the conversations of my colleagues. They mostly discussed their own and others’ personal lives and work. Almost no one paid attention to me, only occasionally they asked where I was from and what I was studying for.

Returning to the hotel, I asked Botha what kind of grief happened to Dina. It turned out that she, not knowing about the postponement, went out for a break at 10.25 as usual and ran into Iris, the boss. She called the Kazakh woman a slacker and threatened to fire her in case of another violation of discipline.

The conflict between Iris and Dina was not in vain: at the end of the working day, it was not Miko who came to pick us up, as usual, but David himself.

“Get in the car,” he said gloomily to us. “And you,” David pointed to Dina and two other Kazakh women, “I’ll ask you to stay.”

We couldn’t hear what he was talking about with the girls from the car, but judging by their faces, it wasn’t about the beautiful weather.

The building in which I lived was located at the very end of the cottage community, and David, having dropped me off at the porch, did not leave, but began to climb the stairs after me. And I even guessed about the purpose of his visit: in the morning the Turkish women did not go to work, citing the fact that they were going to move out of the house that day. The four of them planned to go with the couple from the neighboring cottage in search of a better life, and I was looking forward to this moment.

Before David had time to enter the kitchen-living room, Aisha and Mellie, who were preparing something, literally pounced on him, shaking their spoons. I thought that the girls would look more organic with a rolling pin and a frying pan in their hands - so they yelled at the employer, expressing all their complaints at once: starting from that unfortunate deposit of 200 dollars (which, by the way, no one has ever asked me for) and the inconvenient location housing, to slave-like working conditions and too hot Missouri weather.

It seemed to me that David, not distinguished by angelic meekness, would shout back at the girls and begin to throw shoes dumped in the hallway at them, but he, shocked by such an unflattering reception, for the first five minutes only blinked his eyes, vainly trying to insert a word into the stream of indignation , interspersed with exclamations: “You think we are just students? I'm not a stupid girl! I know my rights!

Wanting peace and quiet, I moved to the balcony, hoping to wait out the storm there, but that was not the case: David apparently froze and began to threaten the Turkish women with the police, because they, increasing the decibels, screamed:

- Call the police! We'll say the same! Polina is a witness! Polina, come here and confirm that we didn’t lie in a single word!

Apparently wanting to enlist my support, the girls invited me to the table, onto which three plates of pasta and bacon were furiously thrown. They didn't stop yelling at David even while they were eating!

He soon spat and left the cottage - as it turned out later, for a while, but this time gave us the opportunity to say goodbye, hug, take a souvenir photo in the car in which the neighbors arrived (I don’t know whether they bought it, rented it or stole it) and swear to each other friend in eternal friendship.

When Onil and I, seeing off our neighbors, warmly wished them good luck (the guy, apparently sincerely, I - with the hope of never meeting them again), David arrived again and stopped at the other end of the parking lot in front of the house, without getting out of the car.

The Turks again screamed like the trumpet of Jericho, explaining who he was, where he came from and where he should go, demonstrated all the indecent gestures they knew, loaded into the car and were gone.

Then David drove up to Onil and me, got out of the car and started a ten-minute monologue on the topic “What bad guys, they treated kind Uncle David terribly, I hope you won’t behave like that.” We assured him of our loyalty and lack of complaints and finally returned to the empty, quiet house.

Fifth day of work

Sunday was the last hard day of the week, but that was of little consolation to me: the schedule finally posted in the staff room said my day off was Thursday. I had nine days of continuous work ahead of me.

I already knew how to deftly, although not quickly enough, manage both rooms and bathrooms. “Not fast enough” is putting it mildly: I understood that I was working three times slower than all my colleagues, but despite all my efforts I could not do anything. I was surprised that I had not yet received a single reprimand from my superiors. Maybe Iris and Amber still feel sorry for me as a beginner, I thought.

After work, David came to pick us up again, but instead of taking us home, he took us to his office and invited us into his office. The Kazakh women and I wondered: what is he going to say? Probably the reason is the Turks who left yesterday (information about this story has already spread throughout the cottage community). But we were wrong.

“Iris is very unhappy with you,” David began, looking searchingly at us sitting in a row against the wall. – You work poorly and slowly and violate discipline. Look at this,” he handed out slips of reprimand to us all. – You came here to work, so why are you lazy?

With downcast eyes, we feigned remorse and with all our appearance demonstrated our readiness to immediately correct ourselves. Having finished with the “official” part, David suddenly switched to an informal tone:

— I myself once worked in both housekeeping and laundry, so I have a very good idea of ​​what kind of work this is. Damn it, no one will follow you with a microscope, but you must create at least the appearance of cleanliness! You don’t need to scrub the toilet for half an hour, just wipe off drops of urine from it! There's no need to disinfect the bathtub, but there shouldn't be any hair on it, you know? They smeared it a couple of times with a rag - and that’s it! I understand that for many of you this is your first physical job, you are all studying in your countries to be an engineer, a designer, a journalist... Treat this simply as experience or entertainment! If I came to Russia with my Russian (David had a Ukrainian fiancee and knew a few phrases in Russian), I would also work as a dishwasher.

Such a speech made the girls relax and become bolder, and when David asked if we had any complaints, the Kazakh girls began vying with each other to talk about their dissatisfaction with the work.

Their main complaint was the pairing of workers: firstly, they said, two guys or even opposite-sex partners could do anything faster than two girls - given that some types of work require brute physical strength. And secondly, they came to improve their English, and they are always paired with each other, and not with Americans or other foreigners! David reacted instantly to the last statement: “Well, you can speak English to each other.”

It was clear that it was a joke, but it was too close to the truth. I didn’t think that voicing my dissatisfaction could bring any fruit, so I remained silent.

Having made us promise to work better and promising, in turn, to deal with our complaints, David finally took us home. But the day didn't end there.

At eight o'clock in the evening Miko, the driver, called me and said that he would now take me to the office of the boss. To the question “Why?” followed by a laconic answer: “Fill out the papers.” Well, papers are just papers. Taking my passport, DS-2019 form and my Job Offer, at the appointed time I boarded a white minibus. There was already a girl there, unfamiliar to me, with a bright southern appearance - a Turkish woman, Seda, who had just arrived in Branson. They’ll probably move her into our house, I thought.

We were greeted at the office by a middle-aged man who introduced himself as George. He spoke amazingly clear and understandable English, unlike David, which made communication with him easy and pleasant.

After five minutes of routine chatter about all sorts of trifles, George explained to Seda and me that we had to sign some documents for work and the US government. “They will take some taxes from you - about 12% of your salary,” he said, “and in January they will return it back. You will also need to pay for living in the house ($300 per month), for transportation to and from work ($50), and also pay a deposit of $200, which will be returned to you before leaving if everything is in order with the house.” .

All this, except for the deposit, was stated in the Job Offer and did not raise any questions, and we began to fill out the documents.

It’s worth making a small digression here. My Job Offer indicated the start and end dates of work - June 15 and September 15, but I arrived on July 1 and was going to return to Russia on the 31st - a month is enough for the first time, especially for such a hard job, I thought.

At the Russian company, even during preparation for the interview, I was assured that these dates were nothing more than a formality that would facilitate the process of obtaining a visa, and I was sure that the employer and the sponsor (the company that supervises the students during their stay in America) were warned about in the real terms of my stay and there will be no problems with this. Therefore, when George asked about the end date of work, I answered: July 29 (an extra day was needed to get to Kansas City).

What started here! George, instantly losing his feigned friendliness, almost shouted that this was impossible, that no one needed a worker for one month, that my Job Offer was becoming invalid and that he was obliged to notify the sponsor, who, most likely, would immediately deport me back in Russia.

- Why did you even come here? - he roared. – I’ve been working here for seven years and this is the first time I’ve seen a person who came on Work and Travel for a month!

“Well, apparently I’m unique,” ​​I answered calmly, already imagining how I would pin the company that framed me under my fingernail.

The prospect of being deported to my homeland did not frighten me too much - the work was too hard - it was just offensive to realize that I had been deceived.

“I will have to inform not only the sponsor, but also the hotel,” George finally said calmly. – Even if the sponsor approves your terms, Grand Plaza will probably say that they don’t need the employee for such a short time. And they won’t find you another job here for three weeks, so I’m willing to bet that you’ll soon have to return to Russia anyway.

“So, maybe I should not come to work tomorrow?” - I wanted to ask, but I resisted. To Russia - so to Russia. I’ll definitely have a couple of days left before deportation - I’ll have time to go somewhere to the ocean. I’ll stay at some hotel and be a guest again, not a maid...

George did not forget to immediately demand $150 from me for the first two weeks of living in the cottage. You will pay the deposit if by some miracle you remain in the United States, he said.

At night, David brought my new neighbors - two girls... where do you think they came from? – from Turkey, of course! Remembering the previous unpleasant experience, I greeted them with suspicion. My love for Turkish women was not helped by the fact that their arrival woke me up, drove me out of the double bed, which I took the opportunity to grab for myself, forced me to get dressed, paste a rumpled smile on my face and remember English. Having learned the names of the new neighbors - Semge and Melis - I showed them the bunk bed, the toilet, the kitchen and sent them with all the questions to the guys - firstly, they were not sleeping, and secondly, they were still their compatriots, and then I tried to fall asleep again. Tomorrow was another joyless day of work.

Sixth day. Dismissal

On Monday, Grand Plaza added more workers - two Kazakh women moved there, who previously worked in another hotel, where they had to act alone, and there was more work. But this was not the reason for their departure, but the short working day - sometimes it did not exceed three or four hours, which was accordingly reflected in the salary.

I was paired with one of them, Uldan, who barely spoke Russian. I was somewhat surprised, because her compatriots spoke Russian as if it were their native language. Uldan explained that she studied at a Kazakh school and is generally not good at languages.

We had to communicate in a mixture of Russian, English and gestures.

Before I had time to go out for the first break, Sasha, a Ukrainian emigrant whom I met a week ago in Springfield, suddenly called. Having learned that I might have to leave the United States in the coming days, he offered to come visit today, to which I happily agreed.

Uldan worked quickly and tirelessly - the experience of the previous hotel was telling, where - it’s scary to think! – the same amount of time was allotted for solo work as in the Grand Plaza for the steam room, and I felt like an elderly turtle next to her, but the thought of a possible quick end to the torment warmed my soul. The Kazakh woman amazed me with her ability to work: while eight hours of work a day was too much for me, she managed to work hard in two places and not get tired.

Another working day was coming to an end, the Kazakh women and I were standing on the first floor and waiting for the elevator to finish some little things on our floors, when Iris came up to me and, in a tone that did not tolerate objections, invited me into her office.

“Sit down,” she suggested, vacating the chair. Apparently, there was a serious matter ahead - usually the boss was content with a minute-long conversation with the standing interlocutor. George must have called her and she will talk about the timing, I decided.

“You work very slowly,” she began. - Impossibly slow. I was ready to understand when it was your second or third working day, but now it’s the sixth, and the situation has remained unchanged. I see that you are trying, but what you are doing is not work, you are simply disturbing your partners. Maid work is not suitable for you. You shouldn't come here anymore, I'll tell David to find you somewhere else to work. Pass on your uniform shirt tomorrow through your neighbors.

Perhaps Iris expected me to cry like Dina or to beg her for another chance, but I couldn’t believe my luck. “Tomorrow I will sleep and rest!” - that was the only thing that occupied my mind at that moment. Just as I was about to run out of the office with glee, I suddenly thought about the last sentence.

- Why tomorrow? Maybe I should give it back now?

“If it’s more convenient for you, give it now,” Iris agreed, looking warily at the smile uncontrollably appearing on my face.

Taking off my huge, shapeless shirt, I felt like I was getting out of shackles. Already ready to fly out the door like a free bird, I suddenly remembered such a mundane thing as a salary.

— I won’t get paid for this week?

“They’ll pay,” the boss nodded. – In a week George will give you a pay check.

I ran around the hotel where my friends were finishing up work - where the fatigue had gone! – with a cheerful laugh, informing everyone around:

- I'm fired! I was fired! Freedom! Freedom!

They rushed to console me, but, seeing my jubilation, they could hardly restrain themselves from twirling their finger at my temple, but I didn’t care. I said the same thing to my neighbors as soon as I entered the house, and their reaction was predictable. I had difficulty convincing them that my delight was not a consequence of hysteria.

Later, when the euphoria had subsided somewhat, I thought that perhaps George still managed to call Iris, and she simply voiced the simplest reason for dismissal. However, it didn't really matter.

I, keeping in mind the invariable postscript “If you have any questions or problems, please let me know immediately!” at the end of each letter from the sponsor, I briefly wrote about my misadventures.

Looking ahead, I will say that I did not receive an answer over the next two weeks, which, however, as it turned out later, was only to my advantage.

What if I were left without a livelihood because of this dismissal? Here you have a sponsor whose task is to solve all the student’s problems in the United States.

In the evening, as promised, Sasha arrived, and we talked all evening.

Before, I didn’t really believe that compatriots seem much closer far from their homeland, but it turned out to be true - by the end of the meeting we felt almost like brother and sister.

Sasha did not say anything particularly new about his situation in America - he only said that he had been arguing in court for a long time that he needed asylum for political reasons and that he hoped to get an education here and find a prestigious job.

After my compatriot left, I finally managed to communicate with my new neighbors, and they pleasantly surprised me - in Semga and Melis there was not a drop of arrogance and shamelessness that distinguished my previous neighbors.

I even regretted that we had to clumsily express ourselves in a language foreign to all of us in order to understand each other - the girls turned out to be such interesting and pleasant interlocutors.

Failed move

The next morning, while we were having breakfast with Semge and Melis, the doorbell rang. The Turkish women went to open it, and I heard David’s voice. I was sure that the supervisor had come for my soul, and was already preparing to fight off the thunder and lightning that he would begin to throw at me, but Iris apparently forgot about her intention to call him, because when he saw me, he asked in surprise:

- Why aren’t you at work?

“I was fired yesterday, sir,” I said with downcast eyes, personifying the world’s sorrow with all my appearance. “Iris said she knows I’m trying, but being a maid isn’t right for me.”

Not a muscle moved on David's face, his voice did not change one iota when he said:

- Okay, then we’ll find you a new job.

To say that I was surprised is to say nothing. The explosive American did not pretend to be calm; he really did not feel any anger or annoyance at his crooked ward.

As we were leaving, David unexpectedly informed me that I needed to move to another building where the Kazakhs lived, and asked me to pack my things for the evening. He did not explain the reasons for such a strange decision, and the Turkish women and I, who had already become friends and found pleasant neighbors in each other, were saddened.

A day passed, and I still didn’t receive a call from George or a letter from my sponsor with the news of imminent deportation.

It was Tuesday - shopping day, and at eight o'clock in the evening, when Miko came to pick us up, I asked if he knew about my move. The Armenian heard about this for the first time, but was not surprised - David’s memory leaves much to be desired, he said.

Then, thinking that perhaps the supervisor’s morning statement was caused by an unexpected desire for his left heel, which passed as quickly as it appeared, I asked the driver not to remind his boss about this, to which he readily agreed.

Even if we do not take into account our personal sympathy with Semge and Melis, the international neighborhood in any case contributed more to improving the language and broadening our horizons, so we did not want to leave at all.

Light on the reasons for David’s decision was shed by the Kazakh women who lived in the very cottage to which I was supposed to move. Seda, the Turkish woman we met at George’s, wanted to live with her compatriots, which she told the supervisors about. They should have just swapped us.

Right up until I returned home, I was thinking about what to do with the information I received. In the end I decided - I’ll tell my neighbors how it is, let them decide for themselves. If they want to stay with me, they will probably listen to the wishes of three more willingly than the request of one. And if they prefer a compatriot... well, we have already said goodbye and promised to visit each other.

After consulting with each other, Semga and Melis said that they had no idea what Seda was like, and that I, as a neighbor, satisfied them on all counts.

The friendship that had been shaken was restored, and, while selecting a suitable candidate for the petition, we settled on Marat, or, in the American manner, Mark - another native of Armenia, also a supervisor, standing on the hierarchical ladder several steps above David. It was he who brought my neighbors up to date on their first day, when I was at work, and I had only encountered him once before, and then only briefly - he once came into our house back when it was occupied by previous Turks.

So, calling Marat, I explained the situation, and everything was resolved even easier than I expected:

“Yes, of course,” the Armenian said in perfect Russian, “If you all want to live together, we’ll just tell Seda that there’s no room, don’t worry about it.”

We happily hugged our neighbors, and I began to take back the already collected things.

Beach and party

My roommates were supposed to start work on Thursday, and I couldn't say anything for sure about my immediate future, so we decided to have a blast while we could and planned a trip to the local beach for Wednesday. We decided to take a taxi there around noon - Miko said it would cost about $10 - and he promised to take us back between four and six.

However, on Tuesday evening, I suddenly received a text message from Duke, a police officer from Kansas City, who all this time regularly sent me messages through which I could study American youth slang: “I’m in Branson:) If you have time tomorrow, we can hang out.”

I invited him to join us, and we agreed that he would pick us up in the morning, but alas, the next day Duke was unexpectedly called to work, and the Turkish girls and I went to the beach, as planned, by taxi.

Entry to the beach cost one dollar, and for this very modest amount you could get crystal clear sand, a neat civilized toilet, tables with benches under a canopy where you could hide from the sun, and although blooming, but not littered water.

From the moment of my arrival (and, I assume, long before it), Branson was in a heavy, stifling heat, and the lake water seemed hot. It felt like stepping into a large bathtub or heated swimming pool. It didn’t get any colder in the depths, near the buoys separating the swimming area from the part intended for rowing.

In America, in any body of water larger than a large puddle, you can see a bunch of people on various vessels, selflessly waving oars or rattling engines, and a boat bolted on top of a car or resting in a trailer is the most common sight on the roads.

Americans are as democratic in their choice of swimwear as they are in their everyday clothing. Often my gaze fell on aunties whose weight was off the charts, and whose age was over fifty, flaunting in bright bikinis. However, they, apparently, were confident in their own irresistibility and enjoyed the sun to the fullest, and it is this, and not the opinions of others, that, in my opinion, is still the main thing.

When we, sunbathed and bathed, returned to the house, a surprise awaited us: Chet decorated the cottage with multi-colored ribbons and inflated many, many balloons that littered the living room. He did this only to please us - it was only later, the next day, that the Turks decided: let’s not let the beauty go to waste! - and invited the Kazakhs.

On Thursday morning, when I was smoking on the porch, a car stopped in front of our house, and Marat himself came out. Well, that’s it, now it’s going to hit, I thought doomedly. I took a walk and that was enough. Now I will count both problems with documents and dismissal.

“Hello,” said Marat, going up the stairs. - Are you leaving on the thirty-first? Because of studies?

“Yes,” I answered, surprised at his friendliness. – I have a retake, I need to prepare, and I also need to pass a medical examination in August.

- And you were fired from your job?

“Yes,” I agreed again. “Iris said I was a bad maid.”

- That is OK. We’ll find you some easier work for this time, and then you can safely go home. Then I will give you the information through Miko or David,” with these words the Armenian went down the stairs, got into the car and drove away, leaving me in a mixed state of amazement and relief.

That evening, real pandemonium befell us: Seda, who had come to terms with the fact that she would not live with her compatriots, and all the Kazakhs who lived in the cottage village came to visit - that is, about thirteen people in addition to the six of us.

I’m generally not a fan of noisy gatherings, and that day I was also reading an interesting book, so, having fulfilled my duties as the hostess of the ball and exchanged the usual pleasantries with each of the guests, I retired to the second tier and, saving myself with headphones, plunged into reading. However, the company soon became quiet willy-nilly - the police, called by the neighbors, knocked on the door and politely asked them to “shout down.”

In Russia, such problems are solved by hitting the battery with a wrench, and if that doesn’t help, by punching them in the face, and civilized Western people almost call the police.

One of the Kazakh women, who every now and then made a pilgrimage to me, upstairs, spoke about a party that was thrown a week and a half ago by Thais who were leaving literally on the day that I arrived:

“I got so drunk there, I got so drunk!” I felt bad at home and went out to lie on the grass. I’m lying there, not touching anyone, and then suddenly there’s a light in my eyes and a polite voice: “Are you okay, ma`am?” I look and there is a policeman with a flashlight above me. I tell him: okay, okay, just leave me alone, and he says, “Let’s go home, you’ll catch a cold!” Well, I get up, take a step, stumble and fall. I shout: “Help me!”, He gives me his hand and, literally dragging me on himself, politely escorts me to the bed.

The police in America are still wonderful.

The rest of the days in Branson

The next day no one called with news of a new job or deportation. And another day, and another. I read books, watched films and enjoyed blissful idleness, but that’s not why, damn it, I came to America! However, the first working week in my life left such a depressing impression that I was not eager to look for a new place of employment on my own, bypassing the supervisors.

On Saturday, David came to our house, brought me a paycheck for one hundred and seventy dollars and demanded twenty-five from me - for two weeks of transportation. No one remembered about the deposit, which I was incredibly happy about - two hundred dollars never bothered anyone.

Getting a Social Security Number

On Monday morning, the supervisor came to take me, along with several Kazakhs and Chinese, to Springfield - it was my turn to get a Social Security Number.

The procedure for receiving it in the office, located for some reason at the local clinic, was reminiscent of both a banking transaction and an interview at the consulate - at the entrance, a smiling employee who knew the Russian words “Hello” and “Goodbye” and was clearly proud of this, gave us coupons with numbers. After waiting for your number to appear on the board, you had to go to the indicated window.

My companions were given forms to fill out, but I was only asked to write down my parents' full names, entered some information from my passport and DS-2019 form into the computer, and with a sweet smile, was given a piece of paper informing me that I could receive my Social Security card through two weeks - exactly the day before departure.

On the way back, David, who apparently decided to engage in our cultural education, took us past a local farm, not much different from a Russian village, a hospital for prison prisoners - it was surrounded by high barbed wire, but I didn’t see any special cars - and then brought it to a Japanese garden at some park, without bothering to ask our opinion on this matter. Having bought tickets for three dollars, we wandered along the landscaped paths and fed the fish and turtles that lived in numerous reservoirs. The garden was beautifully maintained and completely boring.

A few days later, I asked David to take me to the bank because I needed to cash a pay check.

Bank in a small American town

The service system that I saw in an ordinary bank in a small American town plunged me into severe culture shock. On the side of the building there was a structure that resembled a gas station: several places for cars and strange posts next to each place, from which transparent pipes led to windows in the wall, located about thirty meters away.

David took one of the parking spaces, opened the door in the column, which greeted him in a pleasant female voice, took out a kind of tube from there, where he put my passport and pay check, returned the tube to the column and pressed some button. The case immediately flew along the pipe towards the window with a cosmic sound, and a few minutes later it returned the same way - without a pay check, but with money. What progress has come!

Last shopping day in Branson, departure

It's the last shopping day in Branson. I decided to bring my friends, as souvenirs, chewing gum and candies that are not sold in Russia, and several bottles of Dr Pepper soda, which is strikingly different for the better from what you can buy at home. Fortunately, the scope for choice was wide: the shelves were adorned with dozens of types of caramel, marmalade, chocolate and some other unimaginable sweets.

For example, I liked the chewing gum, which vaguely resembles the taste of children’s “Orbit”, called “Root beer float”, which the automatic translator translated as “Root beer float”. I also bought a gray cotton T-shirt with a picture of a motorcycle and the inscription “Branson” - in the supermarket you could find clothes with the name of the city for every taste, although I have already said more than once how small and unremarkable it is - a pack of menthol Marlboro (in In the USA, all types of cigarettes have analogues with menthol) and a disc with the film “The Green Mile”, which I knew almost by heart and had long wanted to watch in the original.

Cigarettes, by the way, are sold in the USA from the age of 18, and alcohol - from 21. At each checkout there is a warning that anyone who looks under 40 will be asked for an identification document when purchasing such goods. Moreover, they check not only your age, but also the legality of your stay in the USA - they ask you to open a page with a visa.

Clubs and bars are also allowed to visit from the 21st, and I, who celebrated my nineteenth birthday in winter, were closed to entry, which, however, did not upset me too much.

I decided to go back a few days earlier than planned to see New York. On Thursday, the 25th, I packed my things, charged my phone, laptop and tablet, on which I downloaded several books in anticipation of the long journey, and prepared to take the bus to Kansas City tomorrow to change my ticket to New York to an earlier one. term.