COS
COS surely means nothing to you, but it is something I've been dreaming of since I was sworn in so many months ago.
You might have heard about it in e-mails or on postcards, but Close of Service (COS) is the biggest party in your two years as a PCV and it's all on Uncle Sam's dime! Woo-ho!
Traditionally they put you up in a nice hotel and tell you about all the paperwork you need to fill out before leaving the host country and how to close out grants, projects, money, etc...
It is also a time to learn about the many benefits that will go along with being an RPCV (the R is for retired... no, maybe it's returned??). This includes various graduate school programs (uh, no thanks) and this non-competitive government job business (hello US Postal Service!).
There will be trainings on how to write a DOS (description of service) and how to improve your resume and articulate the fine skills you've honed over the past two years-such as the art of negotiation with the ladies at your bizarre or how to do deal with abysmal customer service without resorting to four letter words.
They'll probably also talk about reverse culture shock and depression. Maybe they'll talk about how the economy at home blows and everyone is having a hard time finding meaningful work. And surely they'll mention that no one at home wants to hear the phrase "this one time in Ukraine..."
But I hear there will be steak, horse back riding, a TV in each room, a pool, and a sauna.
This is what I've been making under $200 a month for for the past several years and it's gonna rock.
Except for the whole being on the tb meds thing.
So this Saturday I leave via Odessa to head straight to a small mountain town in the Carpathians to reminisce, reflect, and feel grateful that I am one of the remaining 65% of my group still in country. We have made it this far and the end is in sight.
You might have heard about it in e-mails or on postcards, but Close of Service (COS) is the biggest party in your two years as a PCV and it's all on Uncle Sam's dime! Woo-ho!
Traditionally they put you up in a nice hotel and tell you about all the paperwork you need to fill out before leaving the host country and how to close out grants, projects, money, etc...
It is also a time to learn about the many benefits that will go along with being an RPCV (the R is for retired... no, maybe it's returned??). This includes various graduate school programs (uh, no thanks) and this non-competitive government job business (hello US Postal Service!).
There will be trainings on how to write a DOS (description of service) and how to improve your resume and articulate the fine skills you've honed over the past two years-such as the art of negotiation with the ladies at your bizarre or how to do deal with abysmal customer service without resorting to four letter words.
They'll probably also talk about reverse culture shock and depression. Maybe they'll talk about how the economy at home blows and everyone is having a hard time finding meaningful work. And surely they'll mention that no one at home wants to hear the phrase "this one time in Ukraine..."
But I hear there will be steak, horse back riding, a TV in each room, a pool, and a sauna.
This is what I've been making under $200 a month for for the past several years and it's gonna rock.
Except for the whole being on the tb meds thing.
So this Saturday I leave via Odessa to head straight to a small mountain town in the Carpathians to reminisce, reflect, and feel grateful that I am one of the remaining 65% of my group still in country. We have made it this far and the end is in sight.
posted by Molly | 3:06 AM
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