"I've always been a pro-Ukrainian person." A Belarusian worked in Moscow for almost 20 years — here's what happened to him after 2022

— I started working in the late nineties, while I was still studying — in a small company that specialized in offshore development. My employer had some connection to BSUIR — that's why we had teachers, graduate students, and undergraduates working for us, — says Pavel (name changed).

— I didn't quite make it as a programmer, but I was a good system administrator — not only did I install Office on computers, but I also supported databases and our development for an ERP system, which Microsoft later bought. I was better at it than others.

Overall, that time was difficult for work: people like me weren't particularly in demand yet — vacancies for such specialists in EPAM Systems and other large companies only appeared a few years later. The fact that I had a job then was already a blessing.

"In Minsk, I earned $350 — and in Moscow, they immediately offered $1200."

In 2003, one of my colleagues left the company. There were no chances to find a high-paying job in Belarus in his field — and he was a high-level programmer, leading projects in various countries, traveling a lot for business. So he went to Moscow — and very quickly found a place in a good company.

At the end of that year, their system administrator quit, and my former colleague and friend called me — to meet, to talk. Moscow at that time was a "gangster" city, where man was a wolf to man: if you weren't careful, you'd be cheated. But I was lucky to meet very good, decent people there.

In Minsk, I was earning $350 then — and in Moscow, considering I'd have to rent an apartment, they immediately offered me $1200, and the financial director (who was also the CEO) was even worried if that would be enough.

The company was small — about 30 people, and I was the only system administrator. I had the opportunity to develop as I wanted: I made decisions about hardware and technologies, about implementing various software systems, and the company easily allocated money for it.

I worked there for 10 years — hand in hand with colleagues. Then, at some point, I went on vacation, and when I returned, it turned out that the business owner had sold it to his acquaintances because he had lost interest. The new manager asked what I had done before — and offered me a different job.

This company was larger — the IT department alone had over 100 people. I worked there for another 10+ years and still do.

"I never chased only money."

In the new-old company, I was offered the position of integration engineer — to create a network of branches across the country. Initially, I was the only specialist of this kind, and by February 2022, I was already managing an entire department.

I could have stayed in Moscow indefinitely and focused solely on management — my presence in the regions was not mandatory. But I didn't like sitting still. I love to travel — and my job allowed me to do it at the company's expense (and even bringing my wife and child was not forbidden).

Given my position, I chose places that interested me: the Volga region, the Urals, Lake Baikal... I aimed to reach Vladivostok. I almost made it — 750 km short!

My salary grew — and quite well: it was always slightly above the market average. But, let's just say, I never chased only money.

So what happened that I returned to Belarus? The war!

"Since 2014, there have been verbal conflicts with colleagues of varying degrees of 'vatnost'."

Already since 2014, I had verbal conflicts with colleagues — it never came to physical violence, of course, but the clashes were harsh because these people were heavily "saturated" by television. And I have always been a pro-Ukrainian person.

In the first days of the full-scale war, I wrote to friends and relatives in Ukraine, and they to me. I was very worried about everyone. Already in March, I started thinking about moving to Minsk, especially since my father in Belarus began to have health problems — everything coincided.

Here I live with my parents: since it's a private house, both my family and my mom and dad each have an entire floor.

With the start of the war, my department was put on "bench" — not fired, but not given work either. And at some point, I said that I wasn't interested in just sitting around — I offered to think about what else I could do for the company. Work was found — now I am essentially DevOps.

My company allows remote work — whether in Krasnoyarsk or Minsk. Our system is built in such a way that all these blockades, which are much talked about, do not prevent me from working.

De facto, in most companies in Russia, Telegram has become the main method of communication: from work chats to personal correspondence. Attempts to restrict it, of course, hit people hard. My colleagues constantly ask me: "How are things there, aren't they blocking it?" — "No, they're not!"

"If I had a choice, I would, of course, go further west."

Both the company and I are satisfied that I am in Minsk. If anything — a plane or train, and I'll be in the office in Moscow today or tomorrow.

My wife is happy that we moved to Belarus. Although she is Russian, she is against the war. She also has many friends and acquaintances in Ukraine, including a close friend — who was near Kyiv, not far from Bucha, in February-March 2022.

The military agenda catches up with my wife from time to time — she is from a small village where many went to war: some died, some were captured, and all this is constantly discussed in the family — here, at least, my wife could breathe a little.

I'll be honest: if I had a choice, I would, of course, go further west. What hinders me is that Russian citizens are now having a very hard time getting Schengen visas. I have a visa, my youngest son does too, but my wife doesn't get one.

"Unfortunately, there are obstacles: from age (47+) to the market situation."

To anyone who reproaches me for continuing to work for Russia, I will say: yes, but first and foremost — for my own company.

When the full-scale war began, I was struck by what people, who previously seemed thoughtful and adequate to me, were saying. Some colleagues really disappointed me.

As long as there is no other employer that satisfies me, I appreciate what I have: I work remotely and with people I've known for a long time.

Most vacancies in Russia now are where I would not want to work: either in state companies or those related to "defense." I also do not consider the iGaming sector.

I am looking for a job — and would change my environment if a good offer came along. But there are obstacles: both age and the market situation. From time to time, I apply for vacancies, there are interviews — but all of this is in a very slow mode.

There is another problem: by experience, I could apply for a senior position, but in almost every interview, they ask about experience with cloud technologies. I have some — with the Russian analogue of Amazon (Yandex-cloud), but it's limited because the company preferred its own infrastructure.

"I'm used to telling the truth: I worked closely with these things, and only 'touched' these."

I don't exaggerate my experience in interviews — I'm used to telling the truth. Many write everything in their resume, but I openly say: I know this well, and this — only a little.

I understand that this can be against me. More often I get the label "overqualified" or no feedback at all.

I don't hide my age — there's no point if the year of university graduation (1999) is specified in the resume.

In my first company in Minsk, I constantly used English, but during my time working in Russia, my conversational skills deteriorated (technical translation is still fine).

By the way, I once had an interview at a Belarusian company. When asked why I wanted to change jobs, I replied: "the region is toxic." In response, I was asked why I thought so — I was even surprised that this needed to be explained. Then they asked about the events of 2020 — I understood where the conversation was going and cut it short.

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