THE WRONG VIDEO……

‘On the road again . . . ‘ I was thinking of country singer Willie Nelson’s famous song as I hurtled along on the freeway to Darebin. I had a five hour trip ahead of me and not to have this long stretch take away from my valuable selling time, I had left Melbourne on a Sunday afternoon. I liked travelling on Sundays, in the afternoon, because the roads were clear and the service stations and roadside restaurants were unhurried and relaxed.

Whenever I felt the need to eat, I made a habit of stopping where the big interstate trucks parked because there, for sure, would be the best food and best comfort! In summer, their air conditioning would be working well and in winter, there would be, for sure, a warm log fire to relax by. On this day, I found myself looking for a place to have a mid-afternoon snack. The nearby large roadhouse looked inviting, and there was a group of semi-trailers congregated in the vast car park, waiting for their owners.

‘Good afternoon’ a friendly greeting made me relax right away.

Sitting down in a cosy nook, I had asked for a chicken salad and a pot of coffee in accordance with the weight-watching program I was undergoing at the time.

‘Very well.’ The young lass had made notes and disappeared into the kitchen.

The background music was all ‘country’ and I had glanced into a newspaper for the latest news on the economic front, what so-and-so said in Parliament and the reply from the opposition, the news from the footy teams and how they dealt with unruly players.

Boring, boring, I thought - always the same. But it helped me to relax, so much so that I felt like dozing off.

‘Here you are luv,’ a friendly voiced waitress put down some cutlery, pepper and salt and then ‘bang!’ an enormous bowl of something appeared in front of me.

My sleepy eyes  snapped wide open and I gasped in shock. It was a large mound of salad, piled high above the rim of the bowl, and on top of it, carefully balanced, was a half a grilled chicken!

I can’t eat all that, I thought. What a portion! Looking around helplessly I had seen on each table one or two tall, burly men in singlets or T-shirts, tucking with gusto into similar mountains of food. They all seemed to take the size of the portions for granted! Trying to fit in with the other ‘road people’, I  pretended to tuck in with great appetite. But I still had to furtively wrap most of the chicken into a paper napkin to take ‘home’ to my motel room.

Later, back in my car and driving off, I had made a mental note to check the size of the meals in future before ordering.

Upon approaching the town of Darebin, I had remembered some friends in Melbourne asking me what I did if I fell sick or something similar whilst on a country trip.

Well, on my last trip to Darebin, I had lifted a heavy case of samples out of my car. Grabbing it wrongly, or misjudging my ability, my back had given out and the pain which shot up and down my spine was excruciating. I had managed to drag myself into a motel room, close the door and fall on top of the bed. The pain got worse because the bed had suddenly become so unbearably soft. Carefully, I had managed to slide off it and slowly lower myself onto the thickly carpeted floor. The relief was instant - no pain, no aches. I managed to pull down from the bed a pillow and a blanket.

Never had I thought a floor could be so comfortable to lie on. I slept through the evening and the night, but before I dozed off I had wondered what the staff would say if they came in the morning to make the bed and found me on the floor, unable to move. Would there be a doctor in the town that could come and help me? How long would I have to lie on the floor before I could move again? I was a long way from home . . .

However, when I woke up in the morning, I felt extremely well and had no more problems with my back! As I slept deeply, nature had taken over and healed, like the utilities programs in my computer, I thought.

Another time, I had caught a bad flu virus. I must have shaken hands with a real germ carrier of an architect! Arriving at a motel, I checked in with a croaky voice and running nose, shivering and obviously with a slight temperature. Once holed up in my room, I helped myself from the courtesy bar to a tea bag and a small bottle of Bundaberg rum. After a cup of hot tea laced with rum and ensconced in a warm bed, I started to glow like a stop sign. And, again, when I woke up the next morning, although my pyjamas were wet with sweat and my hair was sticking to my scalp and forehead, I felt fine, even on top of the world I thought.

Another time things were a bit trickier for me. Again, on a country trip, I had parked my car in front of a hospital engineer’s office. The ground was so uneven that I had twisted my foot and sprained my ankle. First I took no notice of the pain and completed my business with the engineer before driving off. As soon as I was on the road, I noticed that my left ankle was swollen and extremely painful. Putting my car in ‘cruise control’, I had experienced immediate relief. But every time I had to slow down and use the brake, the pain that shot up my leg was indescribable. I never noticed before how often one has to brake, even on a clear freeway! Finally, I arrived at the next town and, jumping on one leg, with gritted teeth and bated breath, I checked myself in at my motel,

The next day I went to the local hospital by taxi, where a doctor x-rayed my ankle and put bandages on it. I hired a pair of crutches from the nearest chemist and spent the next two days in my room, conducting my business as well as I could, from my telephone. Other illnesses have, thankfully, never happened to me whilst on a business trip.

I was deep in thoughts, when I arrived at Darebin town. On my car phone, I had dialled John Russell’s private telephone number.

‘John Russell here’, a relaxed voice had answered. In the background I could hear children laughing, dogs barking, adults talking.

‘John, this is Peter Frederick here.’

‘Oh hello, Peter’, his voice sounded pleased. ‘Are you in town again?’

‘Yes, John, I have just arrived at my motel. I shall be in your shop tomorrow morning to discuss with you your current television advertising campaign.’

‘Great, Peter. Shall we say at 9 am?’

‘Yes, John, I am looking forward to seeing you again. And, oh, before I forget, could you video-tape your TV ad, please? You know, the one you have currently showing in this area! My boss wants to see it, regarding cooperative advertising.’

‘Of course, I shall tape it tonight for you and bring it tomorrow to the shop.’

‘Excellent! Have a nice evening, John, and I shall see you tomorrow.’

‘Yes, see you tomorrow, Peter!’

The next day, I was at ‘John’s Floor Coverings’ right on time, but there was no sign of John. Being used to waiting outside shops and offices, I had looked at a few windows and then admired his store sign. Whilst some establishments have high-falutin’ titles like ‘Galaxy Floors’, ‘International Floors’ or ‘Super Floors’, ‘John’s Floor Coverings’ sounded rather quaint and, since everybody knew him, there was no need to impress anyone with a bombastic name. At twenty minutes past nine, John arrived in his panel van and I made the mistake of looking at my watch.

‘Sorry, Peter, but I had to take the kids to school.’ ‘No problem, John. It’s good to see you again. How is business for you?’

‘I am really flat out at the moment.’ We entered his shop and he switched on the kettle.

‘I see you’ve got your priorities right, John. Coffee comes first!’

He grinned. ‘Have you spoken with your boss regarding subsidised advertising on our local TV? I do need help!’

‘Of course, John, and we won’t let you down, like I explained to you yesterday on the telephone. Did you bring your sample video recording of this spot with you?’

‘Damn, I forgot! I put it next to my bag and overlooked it this morning. It’s all that rush, you know!’

‘I’ve got to have it in order to help you, John. I promised my managing director to post it to him “express overnight”. He’s waiting for it.’ I was looking desperate and John had an idea.

‘After you have called on the architects and the hospital in Darebin, at about lunch time, come back to the shop. I’ll dash home in the morning and get that bloody tape!’

Having updated his samples and having talked ‘shop’ for about ten minutes, I took my leave. Exactly at noon, ‘high noon’ as I remembered from the famous film, I walked into his shop again. He was still breathless from a hectic morning.

‘I’ve just come from home and here is the tape. There is another program on it too - your boss will have to find the TV ad.’

‘Thanks, John, I shall go straight to the post office and mail it. Declan is waiting for it. You will hear directly from him regarding our payment towards your costs.’

Walking into Darebin’s post office was like going back in time. It still had linoleum-covered floors and counters. I wrote a little note for my managing director telling him that the commercial was on the tape, amongst other programs. Feeling relieved for having finalised everything in this matter from my side and with the ball now in the corner of my head office, I headed happily to the next town.

Driving home to Melbourne at the end of the week I was listening to calming, classical music and had loosened my tie as I still had four hours of driving ahead of me. Suddenly my car phone sounded a shrill interruption and it was Declan, my managing director, on the other end. ‘Where is the TV advertisement you were meant to pick up from John’s Floor Coverings?’

‘I sent it to you “express overnight”. Did you not receive it?’ I was very annoyed because I had made an extra effort to make sure that he received this important item as a top priority.

‘I received the video tape with your note alright and watched it wondering when the commercial was coming on.’ And now he raised his voice in frustration, ‘But you’ve sent me the wrong tape, there is nothing but two hours of ‘’Tom and Jerry” on this one!’

PETER FREDERICK

www.peterfrederick.org

www.life-on-the-road.com

FERRETS WITH SURPRISE......

Stopping outside ‘Cosmo Carpets’, owned by Wally Herding, I grabbed my clipboard and some new catalogues and walked inside. Wally was a very easy going man and totally informal with his customers. His conversation with them was more like a casual chat and he put everybody at ease.

He was also utterly reliable and gave his customers good service. That’s why they kept coming back to him time after time. I, too, liked to call on him; he always made me a cup of coffee and liked to sit down for a friendly chat. Wally also had been a company representative in his younger days, with a flooring company, and therefore could relate to us in the trade. He never treated me as ‘just a rep’, an attitude I encountered in some other establishments.

‘Hey, Peter,’ he greeted me whilst showing a customer a swatch of carpet samples, ‘Don’t go away. Please wait, if you can. I’ve got something to show you!’

I’ve never minded waiting for Wally. His wife, who worked just as hard as her husband, was also in the shop and she took over.

‘Have a seat, Peter’ she smiled ‘Do you have sugar in your coffee?’ She was well-rounded, very motherly and made the fastest coffee in the West!

‘That’s very kind of you Shirley, but don’t go to too much trouble. I can make it myself - and make you one too!’ I went to the little nook in the large warehouse where the electric jug was waiting for me and went to work.

Soon I was back, sitting with Shirley, sipping coffee and talking about all sorts of things - except flooring. There was no need to; they had been good supporters of mine for many years.

‘Nice suit you are wearing, Peter! You look great in it.’ She gently reached out and fingered the fine fabric.

‘Thanks, Shirley. I just got it made and today is my first day in it.’ I was genuinely proud of my business suit and at the same time, tried to forget its cost.

Half way through my cup of coffee, Wally had finished with his customer. He noted down in his business diary another ‘free-measure-and-quote’ and the agreed day and time.

While the customer rushed out of the shop with purposeful strides and an expectant expression on her face, Wally turned to me, all smiles: ‘How are you, Peter? Hey, great suit you are wearing! Sorry you had to wait but now I have time for you!’

‘Thank you, Wally. May I assist you with anything?’ I had no idea what he wanted me for but was keen to be of help.

‘You’ve always told me how much you love animals, Peter! Now I have something to show you.’ He opened a large wooden crate, a kind of army chest with holes in it, reached inside and pulled out two ferrets. ‘Here,’ he said, ‘say “hello” to Max and Joe,’ and he held them towards me. Like two mink stoles they were hanging down from his hands, their black eyes blinking at me with curiosity, their whiskers twitching and at their bottom end, their little feet were pedalling in the air.

They seem to be straining to get to me. ‘Do they bite?’ I had heard stories that they had a vicious bite and that some people would only handle them with strong leather gloves.

‘What? Max and Joe? Never! Here you are’ and he handed me the pair. They seemed to enjoy this and cuddled up to me and looked at me with pure pleasure. They seemed to be happy in my company. Despite my dignified, expensive business suit, white shirt and tie, I became instantly a babbling fool, stroking them and whispering sweet nothings in their cute little ears. Whilst ferrets do not purr like cats, they do have a way of looking at one and conveying their pleasure at what one was saying: ‘you really mean that?’

Wally, their proud owner, stood there, beaming. ‘I can see that you love animals, Peter.’

‘Yes, I do. You should see me when I call on a veterinary surgery. I never want to leave. Looking at all the “patients” there, I talk to them and I really have to pull myself together to go!’

Wally just remembered something and pointed at the two cute little fellows who were rubbing against my cheeks: ‘They are in season now!’

I had not understood the meaning of this remark and he realised that he had to explain something. ‘What I mean is, right now, they smell a bit!’

‘What do you mean?’ I was looking at the little fuzzy, furry, faces and then the stench hit me! It took my breath away. I looked around for the source of it, not wanting to believe the obvious.

‘Oh, I see!’ Gasping for breath I ripped the stinking, mangy, rags off me and handed them back to Wally. ‘Thank you for showing me Max and Joe, Wally, but I really have to go now. I am already late for my next appointment,’ I lied.

‘I am glad you like them’, Wally called after me. His wife Shirley nodded proudly, the ferrets nodded and winked, and that was the last I saw of them, rushing to my car.

The cloud of stench followed me. It had penetrated my suit, shirt, tie and singlet. Calling off all further appointments, I rushed home. Driving all the way with my window down, I finally reached my place. There, I tore my clothes off me, had a lengthy shower, donned another suit, put the soiled clothes in a plastic bag and dropped them off at a dry-cleaner. Mrs Murphy, our neighbour and source of local gossip, saw me driving home during mid morning and looked definitely disgusted. In her eyes, I was definitely a bludger who did not do an honest day’s work!

From that day forth, whenever Wally phoned me and requested that I call or whenever I happened to enter his warehouse I automatically asked the same worried question: ‘Are there any ferrets?’

Peter Frederick

http://www.peterfrederick.org

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

A MISUNDERSTANDING....

The voice on the other end of my car phone sounded a bit anxious! ‘You are giving a product presentation today – is that still on?’

Sally was a receptionist in a large firm of architects and designers and something of an all-rounder as her responsibilities were many. And obviously, she had been told to ‘make sure that everything goes well’ with my lunch-time product presentation to the architects and designers.

‘Of course, Sally! The presentation is at 12 noon and, in fact, I am already on my way to you to set everything up in your conference room.’ As usual, I had to sound calm and very reassuring, despite the fact that I felt a bit jumpy because a lot of things can go wrong on such an occasion and have so in the past!

Which is the reason why I was already on the way to their offices: to make sure that nothing could go wrong with my slide projector on its tripod, my mobile screen, the slides in their carousel cartridge, and my infrared remote control. I wanted to be sure of all that in order to switch-on the projector and everything worked as it should.

Oh, and I needed to remind the caterer as my company provides a sumptuous meal, a tasty treat for everybody whilst I talk!

The caterer I was engaging had great status in these circles; he was the elite among exquisite caterers by providing sandwiches that were out of this world, cheese platters, desserts, fruit juice and soft drinks on ice. Sometimes, I could hardly place any samples and brochures on the table but that was the way people seemed to like it. And I liked to observe the hungry people’s eyes when they walked into the conference room after a long morning of concentrated work, hungry, somewhat spent, and notice all this gluttony. To them, such pleasant surprises are rare!

So, whilst I spoke, everybody helped themselves freely to the food and drinks; after all, it was lunchtime!

I also recorded my visits by taking photos of the people there, mainly group photos, and placed them in a kind of photo album, carefully noting down the architect’s firm with address and the number of people attending. This gave me a kind of reference of my PR work. Of course, I also recorded exhibitions I’d organised or attended, graduation ceremonies of architects I had attended and sponsored, plus anything else pertaining to my sales promotion and public relations. 

However, it had happened a few times that I was so carried away  with my mission and, after the lecture, had spoken with so  many people, that I missed my chance of taking photos and, by the time I remembered, there was usually only one person left, helping himself to one last sandwich. There was no way I could have called everybody back for a group photo and, whenever  this happened, it irked me terribly!

Therefore, this time, I vowed, there will be nothing going wrong! ‘Excuse me,’ I said before the start of my presentation to some architect who was standing around and hungrily biting into his meal: ‘I wonder if you would be kind enough taking a few photos during my presentation; I’d like to record today’s event in an album as a memento.’ Managing a big smile and pleading eyes.  That man’s eyebrows shot up in amazement ‘How many photos?’ he asked slowly and with his mouth full. ‘Just a few, whatever you take I’d appreciate.’                                         Slowly, the man took my camera and I could read disbelief in his eyes.

At the end of this most successful lunch time meeting, he handed me back the camera with the same strange expression. Thanking him warmly, I packed all my equipment into their cases and boxes and carried everything out to my car. Storing everything carefully, I reflected on another very productive presentation!

‘Another successful event,’ I thought proudly as I sat in my car    ‘Everything went without a hitch! Before driving off I had a quick glance at the photos taken of this gathering. Taking my camera and checking the digital window, I discovered that this architect had misunderstood me and, instead of pictures of his colleagues, he’d taken twelve photos of me in various positions of speaking!

Peter Frederick

http://www.peterfrederick.org

http://www.life-on-the-road.com 

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

WHERE IS WINNIE THE POOH?

My friend and good colleague Ken Butterworth smiled: ‘Isn’t it great, Pete, for once all our customers are coming to us instead us visiting them!’

‘Yes, Ken, we’ve done a good job – if I say so myself!’ ‘It’s bloody bonza mate!’ Ken enthused.

We had just finished setting up our exhibition stand in the large town hall and were admiring a job well done. It was a very attractive modular-type display stand which I had brought with me in my station wagon.

When assembled, it was approximately four metres wide, by 2.30 metres high and it displayed our attractive range of floor coverings. Attached to the stand’s surface were wire pockets with our glossy literature and technical data for handing out to visiting retailers, architects and interior designers.

We had a comfortable set of chairs and a table set up for easy interaction and there was a camp fridge, well-stocked with beer, hidden behind the display as some of our customers did expect hospitality – that kind of hospitality!

It was a large hall that was taken up by this Interior Design Trade Fair and other companies, competitors and manufacturers of furniture, plus other interior items were also represented. Wherever I looked, I could see display stands in various stages of completion.

The place was humming and there was a prevailing atmosphere of feverish setting-up and of getting everything ready for the visitors.

And, of course, there was an air of expectation as business deals would be discussed and finalised at this occasion. From all over Victoria retailers were expected to visit us – some with their families, treating the whole event as an outing.

‘Hello Peter!’ sounded a familiar voice. Spinning around, there was my boss Declan Doherty, calm, suave and elegant.

‘The whole setup looks nice – you two have done a great job. The entire display looks very attractive! I guess it is already opening time, here come the first of our customers.’ He nodded toward the entrance with an expectant smile.

A group of people approached our stand. They were Ken’s customers and he had a very specific way of greeting them: ‘Oh no, here come the shadiest characters I have ever seen! What are you doing here?’ The group of five grinned back: ‘Hello Ken, how are you! Great to see you here!’ This was followed with a lot of slapping on the back, as sure sign that they knew each other very well.

‘You look thirsty!’ Ken stated. This was confirmed by a vigorous nodding and, in order not to break up this idyll, I went behind the stand to fetch the beer cans and drinking glasses.

Ken had this wonderful rapport with his customers. First he talked about how long he has known them, then he told them funny stories and soon there was laughter bursting from the group as if they were at a wine tasting.

My own customers were somehow different. Perhaps I made them that way?

There was Ben Sneddon, the architect, whom I had invited to see our newest products on display.

‘Hello Peter,’ he would greet me. ‘Good to see you. My, your stand looks great.!’ Such a compliment is always welcome and it improved my feeling of well-being.

Is that the new non-slip flooring you mentioned on your last visit?’ He pointed at a display panel. ‘Yes, Ben,’ and away I went, telling him all about these new type of floorings and explained their outstanding features and benefits to the end user. Ben accepted some technical literature and I promised to visit him with a new catalogue which included colour charts and some sample squares of this new material.

‘Peter, ‘Declan approached me again,’ I think you had better stand at the entrance to welcome the people you know and direct them to our stand. I shall stay here with Ken and talk to them!’

That is a good strategy’, I thought, standing at the entrance with my indispensible clipboard, handing out leaflets and welcoming everybody as I knew most of the visitors. And even if I did not personally call on them as they were Ken’s customers, I had somehow met with them at previous occasions.

Naturally, I greeted my own customers and clients with the greatest respect and an air of formality which was appreciated by them. My colleague Ken’s customers, on the other hand, could be recognised by a wide grin and their first enquiry was always ‘Where can I find Ken?’ or ‘Is Ken here?’

‘Where can I find Winnie the Pooh?’ This question stunned me and the old feeling of unreality came over me. Looking into the man’s face, I could read nothing. It was a very leathery face, full of lived-in lines and large, rather sad eyes, devoid of any humorous twinkle.

‘I beg your pardon?’ Could I have heard wrong?

‘Ah wanna see Winnie the Pooh!’ Again, this face betrayed nothing and now the mouth was firmly closed and his thin lips had a rather bitter expression.

It was as if he had been told to ask this question, I sensed. I could only helplessly look around and from our exhibition stand, not far away, my colleague Ken noticed and approached us quickly.

‘What’s the matter, Pete?’ His compassion was touching.

‘This gentleman wants to know where Winnie the Pooh is’, I whispered, expecting some show of incredulity, if only raised eyebrows, but there was none.

‘Hello there,’ I heard him closing in on the man. Putting an arm on his shoulder they turned around and walked away. And as they did so, I noticed that there was a little boy holding on to this mountain of a man.

After a while, Ken returned and explained to me: ‘There are more halls and theatres in this building and in one of them they’re staging something for children.’ This was said in a matter of fact, and not for the first time I admired Ken for his sheer presence and ability to cope with unusual situations.

My managing director, Declan, joined me at the entrance as he, too, now wanted to welcome visitors and direct them to our stand. A group of men, women and two children tried to walk past us, and into our hall when Declan felt the need to be folksy.

‘Good afternoon all and welcome!’ Elegantly handing them brochures of ours he spread his bonhomie, ’Our stand is over there and, please, help yourselves to drinks.’

‘But we want to see Winnie the Pooh!’ It sounded like a reprimand and Declan stiffened somewhat. ‘I beg your pardon?’

‘Winnie the Pooh!’ A gruff voice demanded.

‘Yes, that’s right!’ I cut in with an understanding nod. ‘This play is in one of the other theatres in the same building. It surely has a poster outside its door.’

‘My dear fellow,’ Declan’s voice sounded suddenly more plumby than usual, ‘you seem to know everything!’ he stated admiringly. Which I confirmed with a self-assured nod!

In general this exhibition went well and all the firms there were very happy with their results. They had met with many of customers, even with those who were not easily accessible to the representative when calling.

Feeling magnanimous, Declan explained to me: ‘We are having a bit of a get-together when this exhibition is over. It gives us a bit of time to get to know our customers better. There is a nice pub across the street and I have arranged for a spare room to be reserved for us. So you may invite whomever you wish.’ He smiled at me encouragingly and I smiled back – rather forced, because in reality this was a planned booze-up and therefore a torture for a teetotaller like myself!

On such occasions, everybody is friendly enough at the beginning. There are a lot of pleasantries and business being discussed which is, of course, is always welcome.

Later, I always noticed that what people said was often exaggerated or strange. This was followed by more talk that doesn’t make sense to me and I was always in an unreal world where everything was warped. It ended with a situation where I was out of touch with everybody and had nobody I could converse with!

Respected business men, upright members of their communities, would slide into dirty talk, others told lies or, worse for me, started to tell me how good they were and what they said to a customer, what their customer replied and what they said back.

Do you follow me? Such events were always a kind of purgatory for me. If you are a Catholic you will know what I mean.

And then, as a refinement of this torture, there was always a small group of people that refuse to take their leave. Standing in a circle, beer glass in their hand, they have such a good time slurring their words and guffawing in unison, with no concern for their hard-working hosts who deserve a night’s rest after a long hard day.

Myself, I had to go on a country trip the following day and therefore leave home very early.

It was past midnight when Declan whispered into my ear: ‘They are not leaving Peter - I’ve tried everything!’ He himself was unaffected by all that drinking, or perhaps I should say impervious; standing there, elegant and suave in his Armani suit, a very successful company director, and yet helpless since he did not know these people that well. How do you tell people it is time to go when they are immune to polite hints?

Myself, I felt worn out but elated to hear from him that the end of all this drinking was near.

‘Since they are mostly Ken’s customers, I think we should ask him about the best way to close this er…..meeting. He will know how to handle them!’

With trepidation, I carefully extricated Ken from the centre of the crowd and, when out of hearing and as diplomatically as we could, Declan and I broached the subject of closing the meeting,

‘Is that what you want?’ Ken’s reddish face showed no sentiment, only his eyes bulged a little bit and his shoulders shrugged momentarily.

He spun around and facing the circle of hard-line boozers he shouted the immortal words: ‘Piss- off you bastards, the lot of you! Go on – go home.’

This was greeted by loud and lasting laughter, with some of the lads bent double. But they got their hint and began staggering slowly to the exit.

Whilst I was standing, shocked and transmogrified, at the door, a large beefy retailer from one of Victoria’s backwoods shook my hand warmly, swaying back and forth, and assuring me what a ‘bloody good bloke’ Ken was.

And another one managed to slur: ‘What a great evening…my two floor layers over there are very happy with your company!’ And he pointed a heavy sausage finger in a vague direction across the room. I tried to recognise his two floor layers but could only see one fellow leaning against the wall, pale and trying to steady himself..

Within a few minutes the room was empty, a situation we could have achieved sooner if Declan and I had confided earlier in Ken’s unique diplomacy!

Peter Frederick

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

http://www.peterfrederick.org

 

 

AN INCREDIBLE ENCOUNTER.

(An excerpt from my book 'LIFE ON THE ROAD - a Salesman's Lot!')

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