Your first 90 days at a Lithuanian company
What do the first three months at a Lithuanian employer actually look like, once you're past the contract signing and the welcome lunch? The phrase "first 90 days" sounds like corporate coaching language, but in Lithuania it happens to map almost perfectly onto something very concrete: the probation period. A lot happens in those three months, and not all of it has to do with the work itself. Here's the practical picture, whether you're moving from Berlin or you just got hired into your first job in Vilnius.
The probation period is real and shorter than you think
Lithuania's Labour Code allows a probation period of up to three months, and most companies will put it in your contract by default. During that window, either side can end the contract with just three calendar days of written notice, without needing to justify the decision. That sounds harsh, and occasionally it is, but in practice it's usually the employer trying to reduce their own risk rather than planning to fire you. One thing changing in 2026 is that for employees earning more than two times the national average salary, the probation period can now be extended up to six months. The draft law comes fully into effect on July 1, 2026, so if you're on a senior contract signed after that date, check the exact wording.
What this means for your first month: don't wait three weeks to start asking questions. A three-day notice period cuts both ways. If something is obviously wrong (the role turns out to be different from what was advertised, the team is in chaos, your manager is ghosting you), you have an unusually clean exit. If the company starts giving you vague feedback in week eight, take it seriously. Lithuanian managers tend to be direct, but they're also polite, so sometimes the concerns arrive wrapped in understatement.
The paperwork doesn't stop when you sign the contract
If you're a non-EU citizen who just landed, your first month is going to involve more administrative tasks than actual work. The big one most people miss: you have to declare your place of residence within one month of receiving your temporary residence permit. This is separate from the permit itself. You do it at your local municipality (seniΕ«nija), and you need the written consent of the apartment owner, sometimes notarised. Skip it, and you're technically in breach of administrative rules.
The other items in the stack: getting your personal code (asmens kodas) activated, opening a Lithuanian bank account so your employer can pay you in euros without international transfer fees, registering with Sodra (the social security institution, which happens automatically through your employer but still worth confirming), and getting your health insurance sorted. HR at a decent company will hand you a checklist on day one. If they don't, ask for one. In my experience, asking a direct question like "what should I have done by the end of month one from an admin perspective?" produces a surprisingly concrete answer. Lithuanian HR people know the drill even if they don't always volunteer it.
The communication style takes some getting used to
If you're coming from a culture where workplace feedback is heavily softened (looking at you, US and UK), Lithuania can feel blunt. If you're coming from Germany, it'll feel about right. The average Lithuanian colleague will tell you what they think more directly than you might expect, but without the performative theatre some Northern European cultures wrap around the same content. There's no prolonged small talk, meetings tend to be short and decision-oriented, and hierarchies in most companies are relatively flat. Titles matter less than output.
The part that catches people off guard is how quiet the workplace can be. Open-plan offices in Vilnius or Kaunas are not noisy places. Colleagues will focus on work for hours without chit-chat, then go for lunch together and be warm and funny. It's not coldness. It's a different rhythm. If you want to build relationships, the two moves that reliably work are: join the Friday after-work beer (still a thing in most companies), and ask a specific colleague to walk you through something work-related. Both create one-on-one time, which is where Lithuanians tend to open up. You can browse current openings in various fields on the jobs page on workwork.lt and see what kind of company culture each employer signals in their listings.
A final thought
The 90-day frame is useful because it forces you to stop waiting. A common mistake, especially among new arrivals who don't speak Lithuanian, is to spend the probation period quietly blending in and hoping someone notices you're doing a good job. That's a mistake in any country, but in Lithuania it's a bigger one, because the culture rewards people who take initiative and speak up about their work. The passive approach reads as disengaged, not polite. So treat the first 90 days as the window where you're allowed to ask basic questions, make small mistakes, and propose things you wouldn't dare propose in month six. After that, the runway gets shorter, and the expectation shifts from "new hire finding their feet" to "colleague who should know how things work here." That shift happens fast, and no one will announce it.