This was already the second experience of working abroad - the first was in 2000-2002, in America. I found a job there very quickly (it was a bodyshop) - the only limiting factor was the time to get SSN. Within a month, I flew to my first contract in Wisconsin. The company paid for the car and hotel. Bodishop was tight-fisted, but did not hurt. In those days, there were much more terrible stories about the Global company, which keeps the "pogromists" in special bench-housing, gives them one phone call to relatives a week, as well as one apple and half an orange a day.
Maybe because everything was calm with America, I prepared worse for France. I assumed that before the first contract I would be settled somewhere. But, as it turned out, there was a rented apartment for which I had to pay (including a three month deposit). This immediately deprived me of almost all the money I had prepared.
The apartment where I was brought was empty, and the head of the French bodyshop kindly offered to go immediately to buy a bed and a minimum set of furniture. To which I said “I'll buy it myself, later,” realizing that there is no time for bed here - it is necessary to turn on the austerity mode. I slept on the floor, on a jacket. I soon got used to it, although it was very cold near the floor, despite the fact that I was located near the heater. When it got really cold, I made something like a tent near the heater. Fortunately, it became much warmer at the end of March.
I ate instant soups and rolls.
I regularly went to the bodyshop's office to train interviews in French and generally communicate. To save money, I walked through the whole city - from Montrouge to place de la Republique. There and back, a total of about three hours on foot. Every day I changed my route and learned many new streets. The fact that I did not use the metro saved about 2 euros a day.
With food it was worse - people went to eat somewhere (10-12 euros lunch), it was too expensive for me. I came up with some excuses and went to buy a baguette. I think it was 90 cents and ate it slowly.
I found my first contract relatively quickly (three months, one newcomer, for comparison, tumbled for 9 months) - and since my work visa was not tied to a bodyshop, I quickly started working directly for the French. But before I left, I had to make it to my first paycheck. I remember going to the windows, where such delicious cakes were invitingly lying, and I looked at them, dreaming of how I would buy a cake after my first paycheck.
Of course, my bodyshop wouldn't let me really starve to death, but asking for money was humiliating. So the hunger was real, but not fatal. More likely because of pride.
Do I regret this experience? No, I really appreciate this experience. On the other hand, he hits the psyche hard, and for a couple of years you count the cents. Then it took me a long time to get rid of it.
In general, you need to have a safety cushion if you emigrate, says our Cap.