Doha: Day 1 - Desert Dance

Exciting, isn't it, the opportunity to work in a faraway land with a new company that's a big upgrade both in terms of salary and prestige? That's what most people said it would be, asked if I felt for weeks, if not months, leading up to this move.

Not exactly how I felt though.

Not even talking about the entire having to leave loved ones behind deal, but just... I never saw the general glamour of it. Sure, the whole expat package is a spiffy deal, but... is it really worth it?

The flight was fine, and I actually got moved to a better seat (leg room, woo!) after take-off. I've never seen such a collection of movies I wanted to watch, but the Qatar Airways audio system leaves much to be desired, and so I didn't get to finish The Prestige. Terminator 2 and Jurassic Park were still as awesome as I remembered, of course.

The heat hits you, and it's not just a phrase. Even forewarned, I was shocked at it. Those who know me know I've never been a fan of higher temperatures, and this was by far the worst heat I've experienced in my life, worse than anything. But the lack of humidity was the saving grace, the very arid, dry, silver lining.

Then the trouble began.

I had come with the belief that there would be a dedicated driver to help me get around and get settled for the first two weeks in Qatar, and this wasn't out of some inflated sense of self-worth, but because I had been told as much by HR, a detail that had calmed my nerves (somewhat). The driver who did pick me up from the airport, and Ethiopian named Ismail, was friendly, informative, funny. Said he'd be around to help me for two weeks, yes.

Then he was gone.

And so was HR.

Let me put this into context. If you work in the HR department for a large, multinational corporation, and are in the midst of a massive recruitment and project launch, I would think it's a good idea to actually do your job. Answer questions, make arrangements, and please please PLEASE don't NOT be in the office.

Because that's what I had to deal with.

Being asked - told - to arrive in Doha on Thursday so I could sort out HR and paperwork before the Friday-Saturday-Sunday rush of European football. Which I understand, and so I acceded to the request/order and made my way as you can tell.

HR is not around.

I'm not even talking about being out for lunch here. The entire department is on leave. When they have specifically told people to come during this period and to look for them.

What. The.

The people who were in the office weren't much better either, one going so far as to tell me he was going to call someone for me, and then running into a car and driving off to lunch, leaving me stranded.

Eventually, after personally pestering my Boss, I got to where some others were, and thrust myself into the madhouse of chaos that is Al Jazeera Sport, where half the team is not yet arrived in Doha, and half the people there haven't even signed a contract yet (again, AWOL HR), and no-one is sure what it is that needs to be done and/or how to do it.

Still, managed to get a show out last night, which went well, with (in)famous faces at the helm.

Back in the hotel now. And while it is a fancy one, comfortable and with all the amenities that any traveller would need and ask for, I look back to my flight here and wonder about it, if it's all worth it.

Because I didn't really get the prestige.