I was shocked, unable to understand what I was seeing
In the municipality of Jaboatão dos Guararapes, a quiet data migration error transformed the legitimate work histories of ordinary women into something surreal: official records declaring them Presidents of the Republic. The error, rooted in a misapplied classification code during an administrative system transfer, has shadowed at least three women for years, surfacing only when they sought new employment or checked their pension records. It is a reminder that in the age of digital governance, a single errant code can rewrite a life's story — and that the machinery meant to correct such errors is often as indifferent as the one that created them.
- A nurse seeking work discovered she had been officially registered as head of state for over two decades, earning phantom wages of a few euros before the record trailed off into near-nothing.
- At least three women in the same northeastern Brazilian municipality uncovered identical ghost registrations, each surfacing at a vulnerable moment — a job interview, a pension check, a new hire's paperwork.
- The municipality acknowledged the data migration error but could not say how many people were affected, leaving the full scale of the problem unknown and unresolved.
- One woman spent four years attempting to correct her record before surrendering to bureaucratic exhaustion, suggesting the system designed to fix such errors may be as broken as the one that caused them.
- Despite official assurances that no actual payments or labor violations occurred, the women face real consequences: compromised job prospects and pension eligibility that no administrative disclaimer can easily undo.
Aldenize Ferreira da Silva went to a job center in the Recife metropolitan area looking for work and instead found a ghost. According to municipal records, she had been employed as President of the Republic since the early 2000s — a position she had never held, with wages that shrank from roughly 34 euros in 2002 to barely 3 euros by year's end. "I was shocked, unable to understand," she told Globo. She had actually worked as an education aide at a municipal school, legitimate employment that had somehow been swallowed by an absurd classification error.
The source was a data migration in Jaboatão dos Guararapes, where a job classification code — "1112-05-Presidente da República" — was incorrectly attached to real workers' records during an administrative system transfer. Aldenize was not alone. Claudia da Silva, 53, discovered the same registration when starting a new job, her employer baffled by what the system showed. Suelane Fonseca, 49, had found her identical error more than four years earlier while reviewing her social security records, and spent years trying to have it corrected before giving up, worn down by bureaucratic resistance.
The municipality admitted the problem existed but could not determine how many people had been affected, and pointed to the system's external administration as partial explanation. Officials maintained that no actual payments had been made and no labor rights formally violated — a reassurance that rang hollow for women whose employment histories and pension futures remained quietly distorted. The deeper unease was not only the error itself, but the possibility that others remained unaware their records had been rewritten, and that the systems meant to catch such mistakes had proven unwilling or unable to do so.
Aldenize Ferreira da Silva walked into a job center in the Recife metropolitan area looking for work. What she found instead was a ghost employment record that had been following her for more than two decades. According to the municipal system, she had been employed as President of the Republic since the early 2000s—a position she had never held, never applied for, and certainly never been paid properly for. The salary listed was 201.60 reais in 2002, roughly 34 euros at the time, dwindling to 15.42 reais, or about 3 euros, by December of that year. "I was shocked, unable to understand," she told Globo in an interview, her bewilderment still evident.
The error originated in Jaboatão dos Guararapes, a municipality in Brazil's northeast, where a data transfer between administrative systems went badly wrong. Somewhere in that transition, a classification code meant for something else—"1112-05-Presidente da República"—got attached to Aldenize's employment record. She had actually worked as an education aide at a municipal school between 2000 and 2002, legitimate work that somehow got transformed into something absurd. Now, years later, she worried the phantom position might be sabotaging her job search or worse, threatening her future pension eligibility.
She was not alone. Claudia da Silva, fifty-three years old, discovered the same registration when she was being hired for a new job. "The employment center worker asked me: 'Why does it say you're president of the Republic?'" she recalled to G1. Despite the confusion, she was hired anyway, though she later found herself unemployed again. Like Aldenize, she had never received a single payment for the position that supposedly existed in the system. Suelane Fonseca, forty-nine, uncovered her identical registration more than four years earlier when checking her social security records. She had worked as a general services aide in a municipal school since 2003, and she spent years trying to correct the error before giving up, exhausted by the bureaucratic resistance.
The municipality acknowledged that the problem existed but offered little clarity about its scope. Officials said some job classifications had been incorrectly entered as "President of the Republic" during the data migration, but they could not say how many people had been affected. The system itself, they explained, was not directly administered by the municipality, which seemed to absolve them of responsibility even as three women sat with corrupted records in their names. The administration insisted that the errors were confined to historical records and had caused no actual wage payments or labor rights violations—a claim that offered cold comfort to women whose employment prospects and retirement security now hung in question.
What made the situation particularly troubling was not just the error itself, but the apparent difficulty in fixing it. Suelane's years of failed attempts to correct her record suggested that the administrative machinery designed to catch and repair such mistakes was either broken or indifferent. The municipality could not even determine the total number of affected individuals, which meant there could be more Aldenizes and Claudias and Suelanes out there, unaware that their employment histories had been rewritten by a clerical ghost.
Notable Quotes
I was shocked, unable to understand— Aldenize Ferreira da Silva, to Globo
The employment center worker asked me: 'Why does it say you're president of the Republic?'— Claudia da Silva, to G1
The Hearth Conversation Another angle on the story
How does something like this even happen? How do you accidentally register someone as President?
It came down to a data transfer between systems. When the municipality moved records from one administrative platform to another, a job classification code got misapplied. The code for "President of the Republic" somehow attached itself to these women's files instead of whatever their actual position was supposed to be.
But surely someone would have caught it? These are government records.
You'd think so. But the municipality says they don't directly manage the system where the error lives. And by the time anyone noticed—when these women tried to get new jobs or check their social security—the records had been sitting there for years, sometimes decades.
What's the real damage here? They didn't actually get paid as President, right?
No, they didn't. But that's almost beside the point. The damage is that the error is now part of their official employment history. When you apply for a job and the system says you've been President for 24 years, that raises questions. It makes you look unreliable or dishonest, even though you did nothing wrong.
And they can't just fix it?
Apparently not easily. Suelane tried for years and eventually gave up. The municipality says it was a historical error, nothing to worry about. But these women are worried about pensions, about future employment, about what else might be wrong in their records that they haven't discovered yet.
So the municipality still doesn't know how many people this affected?
No. They can't even say. That's perhaps the most unsettling part—there could be dozens more people walking around with phantom government positions in their files, completely unaware.