A SCHOOL IN A BORDER TOWN....

I had to make my outgoing phone calls quickly before the incoming calls prevented me from doing so! I only needed to turn on the ignition key and the loud buzzing of my car phone  told me there are many early risers in need of urgent assistance in some matters.

Right now, my good friend Tony from the Department of Education wished me a Good Morning! and came straight to the point:

‘I have received a complaint from the principal of a secondary school near the New South Wales border. He and his school committee are very concerned about their flooring. They have a new school cleaner and, as much as he tries, he simply cannot make any progress in his floor maintenance. And since the principal has requested my call, I wonder if we could go together to this school….’

‘Of course, Tony! You know I love to travel with you! Why, it will be a great outing for us!’

‘Ha, ha, I, too, enjoy travelling with you. A day away from my desk will do me a power of good.’

‘Let’s make it tomorrow, then?’ I will pick you up from your office at about 8 am?’

‘Great, Peter! I’ll let the principal know of our coming. See you tomorrow!’

‘Click’ and he was gone. I always preferred to attend to service calls right away as, psychologically, their perceived gravity seemed to quadruple with every day they were not investigated!

Travelling with Tony was a pleasure, as usual, as he did the actual driving whilst I attended to the incoming phone calls. In a quiet moment, I tried not to neglect my companion for the day:’ What’s new in your job, Tony?’

‘Oh, I’ve got a new lady boss, Peter!’

‘Well, what do you think of her?’

Not much! When she found out that I get every day approximately 400 emails, from all over Victoria, she ordered me to write a report for her, about each email enquiry and the action I have taken….’ His voice suddenly sounded very strained.

‘You cannot possibly do that, otherwise you would do nothing else but sit at your desk writing reports all day without doing any of your actual work.’

I was disgusted about such an instruction, from a superior who should know better, to such a hard worker.

‘Why, you would work yourself right out ouf a job!’

‘Yes, but that is what I have to cope with Peter!’

‘Unbelievable, Tony!’ And suddenly I found that working in private enterprise was not so bad!

Reaching the border town, we pulled up at a newly-built school, that was well laid out under a group of shady trees. As there  was a school holiday, the whole complex was looking quiet and deserted.

But the entrance was open and behind the glass doors was the principal of the school waiting for us, with his vice principal, the school’s secretary and the cleaner, who was easily identifiable as the only one casually dressed.

As soon as we came through the door, the school cleaner received us with the words: ’Your floor is giving me a lot of problems!’ 

This exclamation startled me as we hadn’t introduced ourselves yet but I recovered quickly and got on with my business of inspecting the flooring.

The floor looked badly neglected, to say the least. It had taken on the reddish-brown colour of the outside soil and was so thick that I could write my name in it.

‘It is beautifully installed!’ Tony remarked, giving credit to an  installation of highest standard!

The whole group of us walked from classroom to classroom, through the offices, sports hall and toilets, in silence, except for the cleaner who kept remarking at the bad state the flooring was in or sometimes just clicking his tongue disapprovingly and shaking his head.

With our round completed and back at the entrance, we were not even offered a cup of coffee but got icy stares from everybody.

I opened my folder to record a few details and asked the school cleaner for his business card to obtain all the relevant details I needed for my report.

‘I ‘aven’t got a business card.’

That was the first dent in this person’s professionalism.

‘Sam, here are our maintenance instructions.’ I handed him the leaflet. ‘It only needs a good stripping-back to get the smeary substance off and then normal mopping with a non-residual, neutral detergent..’

‘A what?’

You know, a detergent that does not leave a film on the floor. Here, there is clearly a film on the surface that holds back dirt and smears. It is also very slippery.

‘What is that? Where can I buy it from?’

‘Form a cleaner’s supply store.’

‘Where is one?’

‘I do not know the area but you will surely find it in the telephone directory under cleaners’ supplies.

‘Hmph’ a loud grunt was heard.

‘And also, if you have dirt barriers at the entrance….’ Again I did not get any further.

‘What’s that?’

‘You know, industrial mattings, for indoors and outdoors. They take everything off shoe soles and by the time people reach the vinyl flooring, they are clean. This saves most of your cleaning problems.’ I was directing this to an incomprehensible face with open mouth.

‘Of course, the industrial mattings need to be cleaned too, once in a while……’

‘How often is once in a while?’ The cleaner demanded.

‘That needs to be assessed, depending on its state of saturation.’

‘So‘ I explained the text on the maintenance instructions ‘The floor needs a good scrubbing and stripping back….’

‘With what?’

‘A floor scrubber!’

‘Where can I get one?’

‘Again, where you get all the other cleaning equipment from!’

He nearly asked me for the second time for the location of such a supplier, but something in my look must have jogged his memory.

Tony and I had to spend some time answering patiently all his questions and it turned out that he did not even have a floor polisher, no detergent and this school was his first customer!

But what really made me hot under the collar was the principal’s complacency. This man had had a high official of the Department of Education come all the way from Melbourne, accompanied by a manufacturer’s representative, who was struggling to cope with his daily appointments, all because of his floor cleaner’s incompetency!

Somebody, who had never cleaned before, with no equipment or   knowledge, got us two out of our way for a whole day, free-of-charge. There was not a word of reprimand from the principal to this cleaning amateur!

At the end of our visit, we thanked them all with great restraint and headed back to Melbourne, shaking our heads every now and then about the situations we’ve just found ourselves in.  

Peter Frederick

http://www.peterfrederick.org

http://www.life-on-the-road.com  

LANGUAGE DIFFICULTIES…..

After nearly an hour's driving on the Sunrasia country road, I decided to stop for my purchase of oranges. It was a simple shed, knocked together with old timber and provided a little shade and protection from the elements. It had one side open and looked more like a primitive bus shelter. There were lots and lots of crates piled high around it ‘very optimistically’, I thought.
‘Good morning’ I greeted an old lady in a dark dress, bent forward with age, and seemingly selling her wares. She smiled back, welcoming me as a customer.
We all have more than five senses and somehow I felt that she did not understand me.
‘Buon giorno, signora,’ I tried my elementary – very elementary Italian.
‘Buon giorno signor’ she greeted me back ecstatically.
‘Una belissima giorna’, I pointed at the clear blue sky and the golden sunshine.
She nodded emphatically, obviously grateful for my linguistic endeavours. Knowing what I came for, she lifted with difficulty one bag of her oranges.
‘Due, por favore!’ I held up two fingers.
‘Si!’ She nodded eagerly and placed two bags onto a small table which served as a counter. The spindly legs of the table started to wobble under the weight and for a moment I had the urge to grab and stabilise it.
Since the total amount was five dollars I handed her the bank note and thought that this transaction would be final. I lifted up my two bags but she motioned me to wait, for some reason.
Rummaging around in her plastic box she tried to hand me some money, as if for a change.
Looking at it, I realised that she was trying to give me change for fifty dollars and was doing so with a grateful smile. A feeling of compassion overcame me. I felt so sorry for that poor woman who obviously had nobody left in Italy and therefore had joined her younger relations in Australia. With everything so strange around her, she was trying to cope and be productive in what we call the ‘golden years’.
‘No, no, signora – cinque dollar!’ pointing at the till where my five dollar note was secured.
She understood immediately and after her initial shock at nearly making such an enormous mistake, her smile became wider, her wrinkled face more open and her friendly dark eyes looked at me gratefully. Being aware that I would not have understood more, she warmly shook my hand and repeated
‘Mille grazie, mille grazie’.
‘Preggo’ is all I could say, hoping that it was the right thing for this situation and lifted up my bags.
I noticed a gold tooth flashing in her friendly smile and her wave of ‘Goodbye’ followed me as I drove on till she was out of my sight.

Peter Frederick

http://www.peterfrederick.org

TWO MEN DANCING……

Having completed my turn into Hills Avenue and

gazing automatically ahead towards the veterinary

surgery, which was about half way to my destination, I

saw something that made me sit bolt-upright. Outside

the entrance of the vet’s were two men dancing!

‘What?’ My tranquil eyes snapped wide open and I

looked again. Although still far away, I could definitely

make out two men dancing. They were about the same

size and holding each other in an embrace while dancing

to the tempo of an imaginary English Waltz.

‘What is happening to me?’ I looked again, this time

squinting, yet there they were, still dancing! All the time

I was getting closer and seeing them more clearly. On

and on they danced, on the spot, in front of the entrance.

But having nearly reached the two, I suddenly noticed

that they were not two men, but one man and his Great

Dane! They were holding each other the same way:

upright, hands and paws at each other’s shoulder blades,

staring into each other’s eyes with utter concentration,

but neither saying a word. The man was rather elegantly

dressed in an expensive suit and his face was almost as

red as a stop sign from embarrassment and effort.

Wondering what the problem was with the two and

slowing down almost to a halt, I suddenly perceived the

true situation. The man was trying to get the Great Dane

into the veterinary surgery but the dog didn’t want to go.

Obviously the man had tried brutal force by positioning

his dog in the doorway and trying to push him through.

The dog had, in return, reared up on his hind legs and

got a hold of his master exactly the way he, himself, was

being held. Every time the man tried to push the dog

through the glass door into the waiting room, the big dog

took evasive action. Obviously, he was smarter than his

owner because every time the man tried to push him hard

against the door, he did not push back - oh no! Instead,

he quickly side-stepped so that the man found himself in

the doorway, with the dog on the footpath side!

So he had to resume his original position again, with

the dog in front of the door and him on the road-side.

Another push against his dog was parried again with

a side-step (actually a ‘Quick-Step’, as they teach in

dancing schools) and, once more, he found himself in the

doorway instead of his dog! A step forward, side-step,

reverse position and, again, round and round they went.

If it had been a dancing competition and somebody had

played the tune of the ‘Tennessee Waltz’ they would

have won a prize, for sure! They just kept looking at each

other very seriously whilst pirouetting on the spot.

I had to drive on and was long past the two when

I glanced into the rear vision mirror and saw that they

were still dancing. And they really did look like two men

dancing! Except one of the two had his trouser bottom

rather low, with spindly, unattractive, legs sticking out!

Peter Frederick

http://www.peterfrederick.org                                     http://www.life-on-the-road.com

From my book ‘ON THE ROAD AGAIN’

Back in Melbourne, it took me a while to recover from the bout of this new strain of flu which, in the meantime, had reached our shores. I still cringe at the thought that I may have started this flu epidemic here. But eventually, I was on the road again and busily calling on my customers and clients, physically somewhat weaker but wiser in product knowledge.

It was our monthly sales meeting in the office of my managing director, Declan Doherty. As usual, we were all there: myself, my colleague Ken Butterfield and our receptionist, the lovely Marilyn Bevan who had just brought us our morning coffee, steaming hot with a biscuit on the side. Sometimes our bookkeeper lady, Norma Hazelwood, would join us with her concertina-type computer readout for her various comments about our customers and their payment patterns.

Ken Butterfield, an extrovert, was as noisy as ever. ‘Hey Pete, what did you get? Cappuccino? I like my coffee like my women – black and strong!’ He nodded happily to himself and took his first sip. An ‘Ah!’ emanated from his lips, followed by further sipping sounds.

‘Thank you all for being on time – so let’s start this meeting!’ The resonant voice of Declan, my boss, sounded this morning especially fruity and well-rounded. It was like hearing a Shakespearean actor and It never failed to impress me. I could picture him on stage or maybe in a pulpit, dressed as a bishop. He was always well-shaven and in his tailor-made suit, with his elegant manners, he was the epitome of a successful company executive.

Ken, my colleague, eased himself back in his comfortable chair and tried to draw another careful sip from his cup which was still far too hot for a proper gulp. For a moment, he looked bothered because this was the time of the day when he really needed a cup of coffee.

He was a pleasant colleague, with great knowledge of the flooring industry, but he was also equipped with lots of gossip and funny anecdotes which sometimes bordered on the weird. Also, he had the habit of uttering words and phrases that were rather uncommon: ‘When cocky was an egg’, for example. If a landmark was imposing and could not be missed, he described it as ‘standing out like dog balls’.

Also with us this morning was Lionel Harting, our sales representative from South Australia, a well dressed, quiet gentleman whose heavily lined face showed the stress and strain he faced obtaining business in his state. But despite all these worries, he was also a scoutmaster with a very successful group of boys who were winning awards at state-wide scouting competitions.

Norma came into the meeting with her voluminous computer readout and dropped it with a heavy thud onto the large conference table, thereby creating the desired attention. With her horn-rimmed glasses, she looked around at everybody. I must say that I felt straightaway guilty because some of my customers were very bad payers of their bills.

Marilyn, having finished serving everyone coffee or tea, left the room. As always, she carried out her tasks with care and kindness. However, I noticed her eyes were somewhat reddish, as if she had been crying and I made a mental note to find out what was the matter with her.

I was brought back from my thoughts by Declan’s beautiful BBC voice. It reminded me of a recent meeting we had with Melbourne’s health authorities. Declan and I had gone to the head offices of this government office for a meeting that was attended by about eight top health officials, all wanting to know about the latest in flooring technology.

Declan took control of this meeting by making a speech about our company, the latest products and how we could help arrest the spiralling maintenance costs in various institutions like hospitals, nursing homes, schools etc. His Shakespearean voice sounded so pleasant, his accent so superior, clear and precise. His speech was peppered with special phrases and words which have such a hold over our lives. There were plenty of ‘however’ and ‘furthermore’ to be heard, plus ‘one ought to appreciates’ ‘it is often said’, and ‘in the light of’. I listened with rapture to his resounding and superior diction, wistfully thinking ‘if only I could speak like that, everybody else seemed to be under the same spell as they listened to Declan’s intonations.

He spoke with gusto, letting the words dissolve slowly on his tongue. But apparently he got carried away by the spell of his own words. He must have listened too much to himself because suddenly he stopped, looked up at me and asked in front of everybody: ‘Peter, what are we talking about?’

The shock I felt was instantaneous. ‘About the resilience of our floorings, their ball bouncing properties, space indentations versus point indentations’. I threw him a lifeline, which he took up immediately and away he went, massaging our eardrums with his speech. I had thus saved the day.

Returning to the current situation, to our Monday morning meeting, I found Declan dealing with sales promotion campaigns, such as giving product presentations to groups of architects. But the largest company promotion was planned for the end of the year - an Apprentice of the Year competition to be held in Sydney, with all important personalities from the trade and Government attending.

‘Peter’, he faced me with a challenging glance ‘I would like you to contact the offices of Albermann & Silver for a lunch-time promotion. They are currently working on important projects, as you are aware of, and I am not sure that they are fully informed of our product range.’ He nodded in self-confirmation. ‘Please give them a call and arrange for a suitable day and time.’

‘Yes, of course,’ I heard myself say, ’now that we have received new samples and catalogues I could make it a really good product presentation!’ ‘Splendid, Peter, I leave the details up to you!’

‘And everybody else, that is, Lionel and Ken, please prepare a list of suitable prospective clients we could approach with similar activities.’ Everybody nodded in agreement. ‘Norma, what do you have to say?’ he handed the meeting over to her. Whereupon Norma burst into a lengthy litany about customers who do not pay their bills. She looked at us representatives with eyes saddened by such human depravity. I noted down some well-known habitual recidivists from my own sales territory and felt a trifle shameful as if it was my own fault.

When she had finished, Norma almost lovingly stroked her thick concertina folder, then took it in her arms and walked out of our meeting. Her back was straight and her chin held high as her mission was accomplished!

‘Well, gentlemen, I thank you for coming and wish you all a successful week! And then Declan followed up with his standard joke: ’Don’t sell too much, ha, ha’

With coffee and biscuits consumed, we slowly filed out of the meeting room and into our main office where we found our desks littered with little notes and messages.

‘Here are some more messages for you, Peter!’ the gentle voice of Marilyn reminded me. Looking up from my clipboard, I noticed again her reddish, sad eyes.

Taking the set of messages I started a conversation: ‘Thank you, Marilyn. And I’ve brought you something from the towns I’ve visited, something for your souvenir spoon collection.’ I handed her three silver-looking spoons with special heraldry at the end of the handle. She had asked me once shyly whether it was possible for me to bring her the occasional spoon from my country trips and I had accepted this as one of my standard tasks. From then on, after every trip, I would bring her some spoons and she must have had a sizeable collection by now.

‘Marilyn, what’s wrong with you? You seem to be very sad or upset today’ I probed. ‘Is there anything I may help you with?’ Whilst her gentle eyes welled up with tears that ran down her pussycat face, she confided in me that Frank, her boyfriend, had been unfaithful to her. It was something she had never expected and this is breach of trust was destroying her.

This was serious! I tried to comfort her as best as I could and she did appear to be a bit relieved to have the opportunity of confiding in someone. .

A phone call interrupted our sensitive moment. Norma was pointing to my desk where a receiver, seemingly impatient, was waiting for me.

‘Hi Pete, it’s Lyle Barkman here. How are you today?’ It was a retailer and he sounded like he wanted something from me. ’Pete, as you know, business is a bit quiet at the moment and I wonder if it is possible for you to recommend me a bit. As you know, I have a floor layer and some staff in the shop……….’

I felt embarrassed about being asked for help. ‘Of course, Lyle, I know you give good service and the standard of your flooring installations is excellent. I shall gladly recommend your services. Would you post me some business cards of yours? I would make good use of them. Don’t worry, times may be tough but we see this through together.’

‘Thank you very much, Pete. I appreciate your help!’ Lyle assured me.

As soon as I replaced the receiver, the phone rang again. ‘This is Joan Madison from the Coonan hospital. We have a complaint about your flooring: it is difficult to maintain……’

I knew from experience that there is no use in trying to convince someone over the telephone about the simplest way of maintaining the floor. By the way she described the floor getting darker all the time, I knew they did not change the mopping-up water in the bucket. Naturally, the water gets dirtier and dirtier until it cannot clean any more but leave a dirty slurry on the floor surface.

The best way to handle this was to go there, get the cleaning staff together and demonstrate this most simple procedure of mopping and changing water in the bucket. I always did this with cheerfulness and used to end the demonstration of a clean floor with the words ‘There you are – and I am only a rep!’ Therefore, I made an appointment with Joan to go and give my cleaning demonstration.

After this phone call, I got up, ready to leave as I had a list of calls waiting for my visits and the office was getting busier by the minute. Marilyn, sweet little Marilyn, was talking to people on the switchboard, finding out what they actually wanted before switching them through to the appropriate person.

A temporary accounts girl was busily processing a stack of data in front of her, accomplishing this task with nimble fingers racing over her keyboard. She was oblivious to everything around her, utterly absorbed by the task.

Norma was on the phone again, speaking with tardy customers about overdue payments with a fixed expression on her face that seemed to say: ‘Don’t give me that excuse!’

Then she dropped everything, stood up, straightened her dress with the flat of her hand then quickly walked through our large office into the ladies room.

I followed her with bored eyes. ‘Nothing unusual here’, I thought, but the pneumatic door may have not been working properly because it took a longer time to close. Just before it did, I had a glimpse of Norma absentmindedly hiking up her dress before entering a cubicle, revealing large grey bloomers before the slow-closing door blocked this not very pretty sight!

‘Oh, for heavens’ sake, pull yourself together!’ I reprimanded myself and impatiently walked out of the office.

My last glimpse was of Declan still talking to somebody in his elegant office and waving me ‘Good bye’ with an elegant wave of his hand that showed off a golden Rolex watch.

Peter Frederick

http://www.peterfrederick.org

http://www.life-on-the-road.com

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OH NO - NOT ANOTHER LIMERICK!

My wife cannot cook – it is terrible,

a crime to humanity, veritable.

Smoking burnt crust

I eat with disgust,

And find this life hardly bearable.

Peter Frederick

http://www.peterfrederick.org

http://www.life-on-the-road.com

TROUBLES ON A PLANE

Adjusting to the arctic temperatures of Sweden, after leaving Australia’s sweltering summer heat, was not easy. But I managed to acclimatise to these conditions very quickly. I had been sent to Sweden by the company I worked for to study the manufacturing methods and to learn about the PVC floor coverings that were produced there.

This was to help me be more informed so that I could assist my clients back home. It was a steep, yet enjoyable, learning period. Everything seemed so pleasant and fascinating during my stay in Sweden. My days were filled with meeting interesting people and inspecting pioneering manufacturing technologies.

But what really impressed me was the cleanliness. From their vast factories, in which the floors were tiled in a light colour, and the workers wore white socks, white wooden clogs and even white dustcoats.

On the last evening before leaving for home, I was invited to attend a banquet in which I was given an opportunity to thank everybody from the parent company, for their kindness and hospitality. Normally I would have been looking forward to such an event, but the newspapers had been reporting on a new kind of flu epidemic that was expected to spread all over Europe. It had started in England, where the first cases were already being treated in the hospitals.

This news alarmed me as I wanted to return to Australia in a healthy state so I could resume my job, as I was the company’s only Australian representative, covering the Victorian, Tasmanian and the Riverina areas of New South Wales, I could not afford to be sick, as there was no-one who could call on my customers.

The banquet was a glittering affair and the people were very amiable. I had the Swedish company official at my side during the entire evening; he kept introducing me to people and translated conversations, whenever this was necessary, but I found that most people I spoke to have a good command of the English language, albeit with a lovely Swedish lilt, and it was a pleasure to converse with them.

‘Please meet Mrs Sorensen, our Interior design consultant’ Sven, the interpreter, said with a magnanimous gesture towards a very tall and attractive lady. Elegant in her winter dress, blond hair and blue-eyes, and with a warm smile, she extended her hand. ‘How nice to finally meet you, Peter.’ Her English was perfect with only a slight accent, which made it sound more attractive.

‘My husband just came back from England yesterday, there is such an awful flu going round there, everybody is so very sick, it is absolutely dreadful!’ Horrified, I tried to extricate my hand from hers but it was too late! It was a long and welcoming handshake, too long for my comfort, and when I finally withdrew my hand, I furiously rubbed it against the side of my suit whilst trying to hold my smile and keep the conversation going.

But it was too late! On my flight from Stockholm to Vienna, where I had to catch my connecting flight to Australia, I started to feel the beginning strains of flu. And by the time I reached Vienna, I was sweating profusely, my body had uncontrollable shakes, and I had started vomiting.

I advised the airline of my state of health, but still agreed to accept me as passenger, regardless of my state of health. “If I can only arrive in Melbourne alive, I’ll be all right!” I kept saying to myself. Before I left on the flight home, I obtained some medicine from the local doctor to try and help stabilise my increasingly troublesome stomach.

I can’t remember how I got on the plane, but I slumped into an aisle seat near the toilets, with a plastic water bottle in my hands. As the long-lasting cramps shook my body. I searched desperately for my medication that I had slid into the pouch of the seat in front of me for easy access.

I did not realise that by inserting my hands into the pouch, I was actually moving my fingers in the seat of the person in front of me. She was a tall and thin lady, a kind of school-Marm type, and when she felt my fingers moving around on her seat, her posture stiffened in exercised control and you could hear her threateningly drum her finger nails on the little plastic tray in front of her.

A man observed all this across the aisle from her; he bent towards me and with an Australian accent whispered, ‘Hey, are you’re searching for something in that pocket?’ and then added, ‘You have your fingers on her arse...’ lifting his plastic cup of beer in approval, smiling encouraging at me, obviously meaning well.

This revelation came as a shock, even in my foggy state, and quickly jerked my hands out of the pouch. I heaved myself out of my seat, pale and with unsteady and slurred speech, I mumbled an apology to the stern looking lady.

Looking up at my glassy eyes, her face betrayed her thoughts. She did not believe a word I was babbling and, judging from her body language, she would have slapped my face had I not stopped my ‘lustful groping’.

Thinking the worst was over, on one of my many trips to the toilet, I heard a banging on the door and muffled voices shout to the flight attendant that there had been a man in there for quite a while and that he may have fainted…

Suddenly, the locked door was ripped open with many arms reaching inside and grabbing me, and then dumped me back into my aisle seat like a sack of potatoes, leaving me sitting there on my own.

The passengers on the flight had their own little bit of theatre, and I suppose any diversion or entertainment is always welcome on the long flight back to Australia.

(Excerpt from my latest book ON THE ROAD AGAIN - and laughing all the way!)

May I invite you to leave a comment?

Peter Frederick

http://www.peterfrederick.org

http://www.life-on-the-road.com

NEW BOOK RELEASE

ON THE ROAD AGAIN

…and laughing all the way!

Do you love to laugh? Enjoy a ridiculous situation? If yes, then why not download a sample chapter of my latest book from my website? It is full of hilarious recollections of the funniest encounters of a travelling salesman and interspersed with mellow moments.

Only life itself can create such incredible encounters. Come and join me in my travels through Australia’s beautiful countryside and experience the adventure of being on the road again!

Peter Frederick

http://www.peterfrederick.org

http://www.life-on-the-road.com