That August evening, I was walking along Komitas after yet another interview. Once again, I had heard the familiar line: “We’ll definitely let you know our decision.” It was the third month of searching, and not a single offer had come through.
That evening, Nelly and I decided that if nothing happened by the end of August, we would move to Moscow and figure things out from there. It was the first time relocation from Yerevan had become a real family discussion. I think she could already see how months of rejection were starting to affect me.
Late that night, after putting our six-month-old son David to sleep, I sat down at the computer again.
Looking for work in 2007
The job-search infrastructure we take for granted today barely existed. Many companies had no proper website at all. Careers and Vacancies sections were rare, and a dedicated HR department was still unusual outside larger organizations. Internet access itself often began with a scratch card and an unstable connection.
Through exactly that kind of connection, I found a company website that looked very different from everything else I had spent months studying.
The vacancy itself looked strange. At the time, employers often demanded computer skills and several languages even for the simplest roles. This ad said something close to: “We are looking for a specialist for the contracts department. Higher education and prior experience are not required.”
My first thought was that it sounded like some version of MMM or Herbalife. After years in Ukraine and Russia, I had seen plenty of ads like that. Still, job hunting is a job in itself, so I sent my CV to an unknown “young and dynamically developing company.”
The call that changed everything
Around ten in the morning, the phone rang. I answered in Russian; the woman on the other end switched to Russian as well. A day later, I was sitting in the company’s office at Enterprise Incubator Foundation filling out an application form.
When asked what roles I could handle, I listed four: marketing specialist, brand manager, PR manager and Event manager.
Two months later, I became Marketing Director of a company almost nobody knew at the time: Telcell. For quite a while, I effectively covered all four areas myself.
We really were a startup — exactly that “young and dynamically developing company” from the vacancy.
Six months later, the company redesigned its website. The homepage stated that the company’s core value was its people: people who love what they do and are professionals at it.
Sometimes one strange job ad becomes the point after which your entire professional trajectory changes.
The company that gave me a reason to stay
For me, Telcell is the company that gave me a chance to stay in Armenia.
It is a company where many people who later became leaders started in ordinary entry-level positions.
It is a company that changed the everyday financial routines of a huge number of people.
When I originally published this article in 2020, Telcell was turning 13. Around 1.5 million people used the service each month, millions of payments moved through the system, and annual turnover was approaching AMD 350 billion.
Behind those numbers was a team of roughly 250 people. If you divided that responsibility very roughly across the team, it came to about AMD 1.5 billion in user money per employee.
That is where the title came from: #MyOneAndAHalfBillion.
Behind every large number are specific people whom someone once decided to give a chance.
Looking back at August 2007, that is what I remember most clearly. Sometimes the decision that matters most looks completely ordinary: opening a website, sending a CV to a strange vacancy, answering a morning phone call.
Only later do you realize that this was the step that changed everything.
Photo from my home archive: August 2007. The day I was told I was joining the Telcell team.
