Tweet
Howdy, campers.
Just a short one today, about a series of SC’s who came in all infuriating and sucky and left all seriously docile and repentant.
A short digression: I live in the Middle East (aka, ‘ME’) where it is currently the Eid al-Adha or the Festival of Sacrifice (Ed. note: this occurs at the end of the Hajj (annual pilgrimage to Mecca) where Muslims throughout the world celebrate the holiday where there’s animal sacrifice (sheep, goat, camel, the fatted Subway BMT, etc.), great distribution of food and other munificence and general festivities), and there was much rejoicing.
Not in-coincidentally, it is also this country’s “National Day” Holiday, (which rings in at 4 days) so it’s 9 days off for all; yes, heathens included.
Anyways…
The large national oil company for whom I (most unappreciatedly) toil holds an annual soiree whereupon it distributes a vanishingly small part of its petroleum-generated largesse in a thinly disguised gesture to curry favor from the local populace (as they are a monopoly here (the company, not the locals), one wonders at their genuine though ulterior motives), the odd-lot assortment of governmental ministries and whomever else in the general vicinity possess olfactory functions beyond that of say, oh, a brick.
It’s a free-for-all, in several ways more than one: it’s a huge Bar-Be-Que (Braai, Goat-grab, slightly extraterrestrial ritual of igniting flame pits and searing mammal flesh), done Middle Eastern style; with heaps, mounds and piles of complimentary chow.
How nice.
How could that be a problem?
Well, it’s mostly ‘free for all’. Free victuals. Just show up, possess a pulse and the ability to hold both a place in a queue and the free fine dining china (courtesy of the vast industrial petroleum refining and chemical industry), you get complimentary charred mammal protein (truth be told, we also gak a chicken or two as well), as well as selections from the galaxies of salads available (hummus, tabouli, something from outside the orbit of Ceti Alpha VI…), along with the inevitable bread and salt.
Free. A gimmee. A Mulligan. On the house. A cuffo. An Annie Oakley.
Got that?
Notice any thing missing?
You have to pay for drinks (no alcohol here) but easily and cheaply available are bottled water, juices of most every description, coffee, tea and milk...milk…(“Industrial Milk”. You know that UHT stuff? “Ultra High Temperature” processed? This stuff would survive at ground-zero during a low-yield thermonuclear test) are accessible for a very nominal charge. Like US$0.26/liter of nicely iced water. Ditto the juices (grape, orange, mango, guava, kiwi, bumalo, durian…
durian…
Don’t get me started on durians…).
Durians.
Gad.
Great spiky brownish-green football-sized looking sort of things that most right-thinking people would take a baseball bat to if they ever saw one creeping out of ones garden; that have the pleasant silky smooth taste of dreamy-creamy-caramel but the overwhelming aroma of dog farts and stale domestic beer garnished with rotting onions and swamp gas.
Yeesh.
“Make that a double?”
One of the reasons for the bounty of such available comestibles is the diversity of nationalities here in the ME.
Oh, yeah. It’s a veritable cornucopia of humanity; that is: all the fruits and nuts and none of the flowers.
A short list includes varying populations of:
Those of Arabian descent (Well, whadda think?)
Eastern Indians
Pakistanis
Koreans
Malaysians
Filipinos
Azeris
Romanians
South Africans
Russians
Americans
Canadians
Dutch
Brits
And so on and so on and so forth.
Yeah, in any convention burg, you get a pretty mixed bag.
So, to accommodate varying ethnicities, predilections and preferences, we offer a large variety of solidly middle-of-the-road comestibles and potables.
Remember I said this was going to be short? Fat chance.
Well, through no fault of my own, it was the operations group of the large, national oil company’s turn to help host (i.e., reduce the number of casualties from the inevitable Cincinnatian crush from the spectre of free food) this little get together.
…Bonus points to whomever gets the WKRP reference…
Since I’m seriously senior and the team leader of the largest bunch of knot- and knuckle heads, umm, err…engineers and physicists (both petro- and geo-type), in the company, I’m elected to help sort out the “who does what to whom and where” at the park where this little shindig is held.
As I said, it’s an annual event; and everyone knows this is the one time of year to get out in force, drag along everyone from the kiddies to the pensioners, and indulge in a frenzy of free-feeding that would make a lamprey look like a piker.
It’s slated to kick off around 0900, but we had people showing up at 0500. Unfortunately, since I’m a Native Texan (by way of Wisconsin) (“Don’t Mess, etc.”), I had to arrive at 0300 to supervise the loading and firing of the grills.
I mean, c’mon, it just wouldn’t be right otherwise.
Well, the grills are grilling, the caterers catering and everything, for once, is going at what passes for normal in these parts. We didn’t do a lot of beef (Indians consider that taboo), no pork (obviously…but, I mean, WTF, what’s a bar-be-queue without baby back ribs?), no fish, but huge quantities of lamb, goat, sheep, mutton, ewe, and camel. Filet-de-hump is an especially prized cut hereabouts.
No. I’m not kidding.
Camel jerky is great. Just makes you so thirsty 2 days later…
Anyways.
Since everyone who said they were going to show for once did, I sorted out the assignments and strolled around, puffing on my standard 75 ring Oscuro hand-rolled, checking this and adjusting that. Most everything was going swimmingly.
Well, almost everything.
The drinks section was utter chaos. No, chaos was better organized than this. A tsunami would be better organized. Look up the word “pandemonium” and there’s got to be a picture of this bedlam.
Seems folks thought that since everything else was free (and do not ask me why drinks were not included…I don’t make the rules, I just sort of grimace and either acquiesce or, as more usual, find a workable end-around), the drinks just HAD to be as well.
Most easily, you will never find a more wretched hive of cheapskates and the miserly.
One must be cautious.
Ahem…
Remember I mentioned the nationality makeup of the crowd? How here we have representatives of over 6 million different nations? Each with their own language (dialect, vernacular, guttural utterances)?
They were all going off the rails together.
“It’s nice to have everyone together now and again, isn’t it?” observes Bob.
“Shut up, Bob.”
It ran the gamut from:
Extraordinary entitlement whore-ish-ness (“I’m a local, and therefore, by dint of where I was born, should get everything free”) to,
Special pleading (“My baby needs water in this harsh climate”…well, toots, you brought it here…) to,
False bravado (“Just give me my drink, you chapped bastard”), to,
Outright deceit (“He said I could have a case of free durian juice.” Almost got me on that one.), to,
The all time favorite: pity (“I don’t have any money. Baksheesh. Baksheesh…”).
A trying time. Time to rend one’s soul. A time to reap, a time to sew.
Me? I couldn’t give a toss.
Having observed the mayhem, determining that it neither put a nickel in my pocket or took one out, and realizing that I was, irresponsibly, given a position of authority (ignoring the inevitable South Park reference), I shut down the whole affair.
“Right! That’s it! No more drinks! Finished! Finito! Khalas! Das ende! Geëindigd! Yari na! Законченный! Selesai!”
Sometimes it really pays to be multilingual.
I can order a beer in 47 different languages.
And get out of jail in 14.
Told you it’s useful.
Remember way back when I said this was going to be a ‘short’ communiqué? Well, beyond “fat chance’, there was that seemingly incomprehensible and inconsequential reference to “bread and salt”?
Bread. (Insert your favorite variety.) +
Salt. NaCl. Sodium Chloride. +
Bar-be-que.
See what happens when one doesn’t pay attention?
A short while later, after metabolic catabolism kicks in, I have a multitude of very sedate, very quiet, very penitent individuals very quietly inquiring if they may purchase one form or another of our rather liquid consumables.
The cheque we cut to Oxfam that year was the largest in history (that’s where the fluid funds went, later, to my dismay, I was told).
Well, if you told me that, I could have leaned more heavily on the jerk camel.
If only I use my powers for good instead of evil…
Just a short one today, about a series of SC’s who came in all infuriating and sucky and left all seriously docile and repentant.
A short digression: I live in the Middle East (aka, ‘ME’) where it is currently the Eid al-Adha or the Festival of Sacrifice (Ed. note: this occurs at the end of the Hajj (annual pilgrimage to Mecca) where Muslims throughout the world celebrate the holiday where there’s animal sacrifice (sheep, goat, camel, the fatted Subway BMT, etc.), great distribution of food and other munificence and general festivities), and there was much rejoicing.
Not in-coincidentally, it is also this country’s “National Day” Holiday, (which rings in at 4 days) so it’s 9 days off for all; yes, heathens included.
Anyways…
The large national oil company for whom I (most unappreciatedly) toil holds an annual soiree whereupon it distributes a vanishingly small part of its petroleum-generated largesse in a thinly disguised gesture to curry favor from the local populace (as they are a monopoly here (the company, not the locals), one wonders at their genuine though ulterior motives), the odd-lot assortment of governmental ministries and whomever else in the general vicinity possess olfactory functions beyond that of say, oh, a brick.
It’s a free-for-all, in several ways more than one: it’s a huge Bar-Be-Que (Braai, Goat-grab, slightly extraterrestrial ritual of igniting flame pits and searing mammal flesh), done Middle Eastern style; with heaps, mounds and piles of complimentary chow.
How nice.
How could that be a problem?
Well, it’s mostly ‘free for all’. Free victuals. Just show up, possess a pulse and the ability to hold both a place in a queue and the free fine dining china (courtesy of the vast industrial petroleum refining and chemical industry), you get complimentary charred mammal protein (truth be told, we also gak a chicken or two as well), as well as selections from the galaxies of salads available (hummus, tabouli, something from outside the orbit of Ceti Alpha VI…), along with the inevitable bread and salt.
Free. A gimmee. A Mulligan. On the house. A cuffo. An Annie Oakley.
Got that?
Notice any thing missing?
You have to pay for drinks (no alcohol here) but easily and cheaply available are bottled water, juices of most every description, coffee, tea and milk...milk…(“Industrial Milk”. You know that UHT stuff? “Ultra High Temperature” processed? This stuff would survive at ground-zero during a low-yield thermonuclear test) are accessible for a very nominal charge. Like US$0.26/liter of nicely iced water. Ditto the juices (grape, orange, mango, guava, kiwi, bumalo, durian…
durian…
Don’t get me started on durians…).
Durians.
Gad.
Great spiky brownish-green football-sized looking sort of things that most right-thinking people would take a baseball bat to if they ever saw one creeping out of ones garden; that have the pleasant silky smooth taste of dreamy-creamy-caramel but the overwhelming aroma of dog farts and stale domestic beer garnished with rotting onions and swamp gas.
Yeesh.
“Make that a double?”
One of the reasons for the bounty of such available comestibles is the diversity of nationalities here in the ME.
Oh, yeah. It’s a veritable cornucopia of humanity; that is: all the fruits and nuts and none of the flowers.
A short list includes varying populations of:
Those of Arabian descent (Well, whadda think?)
Eastern Indians
Pakistanis
Koreans
Malaysians
Filipinos
Azeris
Romanians
South Africans
Russians
Americans
Canadians
Dutch
Brits
And so on and so on and so forth.
Yeah, in any convention burg, you get a pretty mixed bag.
So, to accommodate varying ethnicities, predilections and preferences, we offer a large variety of solidly middle-of-the-road comestibles and potables.
Remember I said this was going to be short? Fat chance.
Well, through no fault of my own, it was the operations group of the large, national oil company’s turn to help host (i.e., reduce the number of casualties from the inevitable Cincinnatian crush from the spectre of free food) this little get together.
…Bonus points to whomever gets the WKRP reference…
Since I’m seriously senior and the team leader of the largest bunch of knot- and knuckle heads, umm, err…engineers and physicists (both petro- and geo-type), in the company, I’m elected to help sort out the “who does what to whom and where” at the park where this little shindig is held.
As I said, it’s an annual event; and everyone knows this is the one time of year to get out in force, drag along everyone from the kiddies to the pensioners, and indulge in a frenzy of free-feeding that would make a lamprey look like a piker.
It’s slated to kick off around 0900, but we had people showing up at 0500. Unfortunately, since I’m a Native Texan (by way of Wisconsin) (“Don’t Mess, etc.”), I had to arrive at 0300 to supervise the loading and firing of the grills.
I mean, c’mon, it just wouldn’t be right otherwise.
Well, the grills are grilling, the caterers catering and everything, for once, is going at what passes for normal in these parts. We didn’t do a lot of beef (Indians consider that taboo), no pork (obviously…but, I mean, WTF, what’s a bar-be-queue without baby back ribs?), no fish, but huge quantities of lamb, goat, sheep, mutton, ewe, and camel. Filet-de-hump is an especially prized cut hereabouts.
No. I’m not kidding.
Camel jerky is great. Just makes you so thirsty 2 days later…
Anyways.
Since everyone who said they were going to show for once did, I sorted out the assignments and strolled around, puffing on my standard 75 ring Oscuro hand-rolled, checking this and adjusting that. Most everything was going swimmingly.
Well, almost everything.
The drinks section was utter chaos. No, chaos was better organized than this. A tsunami would be better organized. Look up the word “pandemonium” and there’s got to be a picture of this bedlam.
Seems folks thought that since everything else was free (and do not ask me why drinks were not included…I don’t make the rules, I just sort of grimace and either acquiesce or, as more usual, find a workable end-around), the drinks just HAD to be as well.
Most easily, you will never find a more wretched hive of cheapskates and the miserly.
One must be cautious.
Ahem…
Remember I mentioned the nationality makeup of the crowd? How here we have representatives of over 6 million different nations? Each with their own language (dialect, vernacular, guttural utterances)?
They were all going off the rails together.
“It’s nice to have everyone together now and again, isn’t it?” observes Bob.
“Shut up, Bob.”
It ran the gamut from:
Extraordinary entitlement whore-ish-ness (“I’m a local, and therefore, by dint of where I was born, should get everything free”) to,
Special pleading (“My baby needs water in this harsh climate”…well, toots, you brought it here…) to,
False bravado (“Just give me my drink, you chapped bastard”), to,
Outright deceit (“He said I could have a case of free durian juice.” Almost got me on that one.), to,
The all time favorite: pity (“I don’t have any money. Baksheesh. Baksheesh…”).
A trying time. Time to rend one’s soul. A time to reap, a time to sew.
Me? I couldn’t give a toss.
Having observed the mayhem, determining that it neither put a nickel in my pocket or took one out, and realizing that I was, irresponsibly, given a position of authority (ignoring the inevitable South Park reference), I shut down the whole affair.
“Right! That’s it! No more drinks! Finished! Finito! Khalas! Das ende! Geëindigd! Yari na! Законченный! Selesai!”
Sometimes it really pays to be multilingual.
I can order a beer in 47 different languages.
And get out of jail in 14.
Told you it’s useful.
Remember way back when I said this was going to be a ‘short’ communiqué? Well, beyond “fat chance’, there was that seemingly incomprehensible and inconsequential reference to “bread and salt”?
Bread. (Insert your favorite variety.) +
Salt. NaCl. Sodium Chloride. +
Bar-be-que.
See what happens when one doesn’t pay attention?
A short while later, after metabolic catabolism kicks in, I have a multitude of very sedate, very quiet, very penitent individuals very quietly inquiring if they may purchase one form or another of our rather liquid consumables.
The cheque we cut to Oxfam that year was the largest in history (that’s where the fluid funds went, later, to my dismay, I was told).
Well, if you told me that, I could have leaned more heavily on the jerk camel.
If only I use my powers for good instead of evil…
you can have some of my water...just as soon as I pour it out of my keyboard.
Comment