ARUN RATH, HOST:
It's ALL THINGS CONSIDERED from NPR West. I'm Arun Rath.
Imagine working for two years without a paycheck. Then imagine that your country has little to no safety net, no food stamps or rent subsidies and limited unemployment insurance. Two years after the financial crisis in Greece, this has become the reality for thousands of workers. Joanna Kakissis has the story.
NIKOS AIVATZIDIS: (Foreign language spoken)
JOANNA KAKISSIS, BYLINE: For nearly 30 years, Nikos Aivatzidis got up at the crack of dawn to drive from his home in central Athens to his human resources job at Hellenic Shipyards near the port of Piraeus.
AIVATZIDIS: (Through Translator) I'd walk into the entrance and marvel as I watched six, 7,000 people heading into work with me. This place was like its own city.
KAKISSIS: This place is now deserted. Most of the thousand-plus workers still officially on the payroll stopped showing up after the company stopped paying them in April 2012. But Nikos holds on.
On a recent morning, the 51-year-old father of three and his 38-year-old wife, Alexandra Tsitoura, pull up in their 9-year-old Fiat outside an empty office building. Alexandra also works at Hellenic Shipyards. Together, they used to make about $3,000 a month.
AIVATZIDIS: (Foreign language spoken)
KAKISSIS: As they get out of the car, they're greeted by a pack of stray dogs looking for food. Nikos is hoping that he and Alexandra will eventually get paid. And he has another reason for showing up at the shipyard at least twice a week.
AIVATZIDIS: (Through Translator) I can't quit this job, because I'll lose my severance pay after 30 years of work. I can't justify that.
KAKISSIS: A fifth of Greek workers are trapped in the same dilemma. Many, like Nikos Aivatzidis, hold on because they know finding a new job at a time when the unemployment rate is 28 percent would be virtually impossible.
Like many couples in Greece these days, Nikos and Alexandra have tapped out their savings after they stopped getting paid. They now rely on their parents' pensions to buy groceries and pay bills. They had to stop paying their mortgage.
AIVATZIDIS: (Foreign language spoken)
KAKISSIS: Nikos' cellphone rings constantly.
AIVATZIDIS: (Through Translator) It's the collection agencies. I get agitated because they ask me questions I can't answer, like, when am I going to make a payment on my mortgage.
KAKISSIS: He is relieved the government has extended a moratorium on foreclosures.
FANI: (Foreign language spoken)
UNIDENTIFIED CHILD: (Foreign language spoken)
KAKISSIS: His mother, who lives next door, often shares her big pots of bean soup or pans of roasted vegetables. And Alexandra's 75-year-old mother, Maria, chips in by bringing meat, olive oil and fresh eggs on her monthly visits from her home in southern Greece. Maria, a jovial woman with a bouffant of curly hair, says she's also helping her son Vassilis, who's an accountant. Most of his clients haven't paid him in two years, she says.
MARIA: (Through Translator) Every month, my husband counts out the pension on the counter. And each time, he says, look, they cut out 20 Euros or 40 Euros. And every month, we have less to work with.
KAKISSIS: On a recent evening, the extended family gathers in Athens for a dinner of orzo pasta, tomato and bread - no meat. Alexandra often makes a feast with whatever produce is in season, fresh and cheap.
ALEXANDRA TSITOURA: (Through Translator) We try not to show the children that we're worried and try to give them what they need.
(SOUNDBITE OF MUSIC)
KAKISSIS: Their one luxury is attending free traditional dance lessons across town. They just need the gas to get there.
The trouble started for Nikos and Alexandra when Hellenic Shipyards could no longer pay its bills. The company is in a contractual dispute with the debt-ridden Greek government over what the state should pay for the submarines. Economist Manos Matsaganis says the crisis has squeezed many firms in Greece.
MANOS MATSAGANIS: Some of these firms have come to an accommodation with the workers telling them that, look, we don't want to close. We want to survive, and we don't want you to lose your job. But on the other hand, we can't pay you. Would you like to - I mean, we will pay you eventually, hopefully. Would you like to keep working for no money for a while?
KAKISSIS: Back at the shipyard, Nikos and Alexandra stop by to see co-workers guarding the partially finished submarines that cost Greek taxpayers billions of dollars. All but one of the subs now languish in dry dock. A 44-year-old technician named Panagiotis Karantzakis spent years working on them.
PANAGIOTIS KARANTZAKIS: (Through Translator) I want to work so badly. My hands are strong. I'm strong. I have at least 10 years of good work left in me.
KAKISSIS: Nikos comforts him and walks outside to the vast, empty space where he has spent most of his adult life. He considers himself lucky. Some of his co-workers are going to soup kitchens or sitting in dark homes because their electricity has been shut off.
AIVATZIDIS: (Through Translator) Maybe I still have hope. And I'm patient I'll get paid because we're not yet at the point where poverty has totally taken us under.
KAKISSIS: He unlocks the door to his deserted office and walks along a hallway lined with dead plants and a timecard machine that's out of order. He processes the paperwork of the few employees who have quit the shipyard, many to take jobs overseas. For NPR News, I'm Joanna Kakissis in Athens.
NPR transcripts are created on a rush deadline by Verb8tm, Inc., an NPR contractor, and produced using a proprietary transcription process developed with NPR. This text may not be in its final form and may be updated or revised in the future. Accuracy and availability may vary. The authoritative record of NPR’s programming is the audio record.