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There were three of them. All young, Japanese and from the Human Resources Dept in Singapore.
My time was coming to an end in Papua New Guinea, (well the end of January 2014 in fact), and thus it was a bit like being a soldier or a priest. Where were they going to send me next?
Smiles, bows, exchange of cards, and we settled down to business.
“Ah Tom san, where you go after finish in PNG?” asked the main man. Of the other two either side, one prepared to type my responses, (or perhaps his impressions) into his lap-top. The other held up a small running tape recorder to indicate his openness.
“Well,” I thought, “You should be telling me,” but I danced the dance as was my custom.
“Director Yamamoto san, asked that my CV be put in for the Tangu job in Indonesia,” I responded.
No body language on the part of the head man. They were holding their cards close, but I was holding mine closer. I had checked out this job through a contact back in Yokahama and already knew it was: (a) bloody tropical jungle on the coast accessible only by boat, (b) was only in the initial bid stage and (c) the Clients Safety guy was reluctant to go there. I was not surprised at his inclinations. But then the band struck up again and we continued.
“Japan Gas Company have many projects coming up Tom san; Kuwait, Malaysia, Australia, North America.”
His voice trailed off.
“And Vietnam,” I added “Which if you look at the form you asked me to fill, I put down as my preference.”
“How u like go Lussia Tom san?” asked the one with the tape recorder, completely ignoring what I just said.
“I would prefer Vietnam, but if you want me to go to Russia then that’s ok with me.”
I’ve always been one to keep my options open and anyway there is always a Plan B.
“What you like about Lussia Tom san?”
“It’s great cultural heritage,” I replied.
I was lying like a bastard.
More relevant to me were images of prospective long legged, green eyed blondes with great balconies and carrying large vodkas and tonic.
“Thank you Tom san.” My twenty minutes was up.
“Please take Japanese cookie.”
Back in the office, I Goggled the job. Yamal Peninsular in Western Siberia, 50 below zero in the winter, 24 hours daylight in the summer. Reindeer herds and nomadic tribes with no Playmate Slav secretaries on the horizon.
But I was not depressed. I’m used to dealing with reality.
“Ah well,” I thought “Perhaps, as when I first started this story, where I am now really is the last paradise.”
(Post-Note: Will our intrepid explorer leave Papua New Guinea and write about his adventures in the Gulag? Will the warmth of the dog sleigh team keep him alive on the tundra? Watch this space. Only on Lit Net Forum.)
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Can it be that the inscrutable 大名 of your kieretsu are tactfully encouraging you to commit seppuku? One hopes not. :D We look forward to tales of disinterred mammoths from the Siberian tundra, assuming the permafrost hasn't melted by the time you get there. ;)
Live and be well - H
PS It occurs to me that I too have suffered from the corporate sense of humour at the hands of my paymasters, though mine were actually militarists. Having been asked where I would like to serve I naturally asked for RNO Bermuda. Of course, I knew this was never going to happen but one had to ask :D Anyway, my second choice was for a Plymouth based Frigate due to deploy somewhere interesting. What did I get? A Pompey based minehunter refitting in Rosyth! Drafty was ever a fickle sort of chap.
I remember hearing a story told by a chap waiting to be demobbed after the last big war. Let's call him Fred. Fred had been posted to the drafting section of the RAF. He and his mates were bored, of course, and for fun they looked through all the service records and posted people with ginger hair to one particular base. On being demobbed, Fred encountered an RAF type on a railway platform with his kitbag on his shoulder. He had ginger hair. On being asked where he was going, the Erk replied that he'd been posted to the god-forsaken base chosen by Fred. Apparently, Fred found this most gratifying.
LLAP - H
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I'm so gratified to see this ambitious thread revived! It's like flashing back two centuries when readers on this side of the pond eagerly waited --in pre high-tech communication era--for
the latest installment of the new serialized novel by Boz. I'm glad it was "bumped"--maybe some of the newer LitNutters can read this to see how entertaining writing is done.
Manichaean, your subject matter, as we LitNutters have all said, resembles that of a Maugham and a Graham Greene (if both were less restrained about outrageous humor.) Your style, needless to say, is all your own.
And an aside to Hawkman, re the comment above. Every time you use the phrase "the last war" yours fooly has to bite her tongue to keep from asking "which one?" Sadly, this reflects the recent experience of so-called "first world," including mine own ambitious (albeit well-meaning) land. That's why the Chinese saying "May you live in interesting times" is not a blessing but a curse.
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Bless you both for your kind comments.
The military humour Hawk has always been a favourite of mine.
Sarge to Squaddies: “What do you mean, you don’t want to kill?”
I must confess that it was gratifying to put this particular “pot boiler” thread to bed, as it’s been going on for nearly 1.5 years now.
Two more that deserves the same treatment:
“Bangkok Benediction” which I plan to finish after I complete the Project in PNG & take an extended stay in that Siam capital.
“A Murder in Accra.” I had gone down so many dark alleys with that one; even I am confused on where to take it next!
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Well, it may be tucked in, but it may be that you toss and turn and have to wake up, get out of bed and make the sheets properly too. When I was young my mother used to watch travelogues on TV. The places were interesting, the people not so much, and the commentators were anything but not literary, in fact they were, on a whole, a lot of very dull fellows. (no offence Rick Steves) But here we had, as Monty Python would have put it, "something different". I enjoyed it!
