Refugees Find Themselves in Jobless Line
After he learned Thursday that he no longer had a job, Vladimir Kriakov couldn’t sleep. Friday was even worse. He drove his wife, Detelina, to work and she, too, was politely told to look for new employment.
The Kriakovs were casualties of the sudden closing of the Irvine computer storage disk plant operated by Xidex, a Santa Clara technology firm. All 825 jobs at the plant were eliminated, although 30 to 40 employees may be offered transfers to Santa Clara.
Vladimir and Detelina wasted no time doing what had to be done. They drove straight from the plant parking lot to the unemployment office in Santa Ana, where they joined hundreds of their colleagues in applying for unemployment insurance and new jobs.
Hardship is not new for the Kriakovs. “We are political refugees here,” Vladimir said, recounting how they and their daughter escaped from Bulgaria about 5 1/2 years ago. They spent a year in a West German refugee camp before immigrating to the United States.
Detelina said she had worked at Xidex’s Irvine hard disk manufacturing plant for 2 1/2 years. It was her first job in the United States and was “precious,” she said, even though she earned only $206 a week as a machine operator. She was a beautician in Bulgaria, but she said she has been unable to obtain a license to practice here because of her shaky command of English.
Vladimir, an electrical technician, earned about $500 a week at Xidex. But both Kriakovs earned more than their regular wages in overtime pay.
“If they needed people to work overtime, we worked because we needed the money,” Detelina said. In the last few months, she said, the company frequently asked them to work longer hours to speed production.
The Kriakovs’ financial condition had been looking brighter lately. A year and a half ago, they bought a condominium in El Toro close to work. More recently, Detelina bought a used car so she would no longer have to walk 2 miles to the plant. A few months ago, they said, both of them got promotions.
So the sudden layoff came as a shock. It was even worse, they said, for a friend of theirs, another Bulgarian refugee who is the sole provider for her family. The woman wept when she heard the news.
By Friday morning, Vladimir had already begun calling other companies in search of employment. Although he has 20 years of experience as a technician, he said he was worried because of the competition for jobs from his former co-workers.
Nodding toward the group at the employment office, he said, “I know almost everybody in this line. . . . I trained the guy behind me.”
Despite the recent setback, the Kriakovs said they still appreciate the freedom associated with living and working in the United States.
“In Bulgaria, if you work for a company, you work there for life,” Vladimir said. “You can’t go to another city to look for a job unless you have a permit.”
