Many of you often get in touch with accounts of your varied experiences in Italy - from the fun had during a holiday in Italy to the many hurdles you had to overcome to start a new life here. We would like to share these stories with everyone so we set up a new
feature called "Share your Italian Story".
You can find a dedicated red button on the right-hand side of the home page which takes you to a form where you can enter your story and upload some related pictures.
Today, journalist Ross Davies tells us about his work experience in Senigallia, Le Marche.
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With hindsight now on my side, I can freely admit that I was somewhat underprepared for my first day working in Italy. Or perhaps I was just overwhelmed. Having previously worked as a home-based freelance writer in the UK, I was suddenly thrust into the role of an English language assistant-cum-copywriter for a small sports and fashion retail company based in Senigallia, Le Marche.
Perhaps it can be said of any first day in a new job— the nervousness, anticipation and, above all, the need to be on your best behaviour. When working in a foreign country, these feelings are magnified manifold, also compounded by the glaring premise of having to adapt to a new culture.
Although a little out of practice, I felt suitably linguistically prepared having studied Italian at university; in addition to this, the job description stated only a basic language level was required, as I would be writing and teaching in English. Nevertheless, that first afternoon in my boss’s small quadrangular office bore a startling resemblance to a Dario Fo farce.
Firstly, nothing could prepare me for the run-through of my contract with the company’s legal consultant, who didn’t speak English. Likewise, it might be fair to say that I have a more solid grasp of Mandarin than I do of Italian legalese—another language in its own right.
To add to the confusion, a couple of hours later, whilst filling out the application form for my Codice Fiscale (the Italian equivalent of the UK’s NI), my boss emerged from a particularly heated phone conversation to inform me that the new company website, for which I would be writing copy, was on hold for the foreseeable future.
Now bearing half the original job title, I began work as a de-facto English teacher, occasionally accompanying my boss on business trips, mainly to either Bologna or Milan. Not quite what I had anticipated but it did allow me some real perks including eating a steaming plate of polenta for the first time, being plied with an assortment of high-brand sweaters by the kindly owners of local showrooms, and, more bizarrely, bumping into the actress Brigitte Nilsson in a cafe in Milan.
Meanwhile, lessons were conducted in the office, where I also taught a handful of colleagues over the course of the day, often sitting down over an espresso to work on idiomatic English phrases. In return, I was taught some of the basics of Marchegiano—the regional dialect of Le Marche—including, to their great amusement, parolacce. This is perhaps one of the greatest benefits of working abroad; the opportunity to absorb the strange and wonderful facets of a culture that you’ll never find in any guide book.
Perhaps it is different in the metropolises of Milan and Rome, but working for a small company in a provincial Italian town is akin to being adopted by a large family. In fact, the word famiglia was commonly bandied around the office, based on the pride of working for the company. Whilst my time in Senigallia sometimes entailed the downright bizarre— including an impromptu office concert of Beatles songs on my guitar— and I never got to write any copy, the compassion and mutual respect I witnessed amongst my colleagues, and which was graciously extended to me, is something that will live long in the memory.
