Table Talk

No way to treat an important visitor

I was driving past a Dairy Queen the other day and I was reminded of a business trip I made to Bogota, lunches in Brazil, and a rib joint in Colombia.

The winner and runner up in the 2007 Dairy Queen beauty competition

On my business trips to Latin America it was customary for a department manager to take me to dinner on the day of my arrival. The dinners were at good restaurants and if my hosts knew that I liked beef, we had some excellent steak dinners. On the second day of my visit I would treat the Service Manager some of his office staff to lunch. On this particular visit in Bogota, I and six other people went to have lunch at busy little restaurant around the corner.

A clean, well lighted place around the corner

I wasn't especially hungry having had a big dinner the night before. When the waiter came around to take my order, I didn't want to be a poor host so I opened the menu and pointed to the first thing I saw -- a banana split. The others ordered their usual meals and soon everyone was eating except me. I said nothing about it and continued joking and fooling around with my guests. Fifteen minutes went by. Then thirty minutes. Suddenly my minder noticed that I didn't have my banana split. What an embarrassment for him!!! He went to the manager to complain about the delay. After a lot of body language and head shaking he came back with a frown on his face. He was embarrassed. His function that day was to see to it that my visit would be glitch free. My banana split arrived nearly an hour after I ordered it. The table had been cleared since everyone was done with lunch. It was already late but after all the trouble my order caused, I felt obligated to eat my banana split while everyone else waited.

Good food, good company

The restaurant manager was very apologetic about the delay but I told him not to worry about it, we'd come back tomorrow for another lunch, and I left a generous tip. He pulled me aside. He just HAD to explain. It turns out no one in the place had ever made a banana split, didn't know what the ingredients were exactly, nor did they have them after they figured them out (except for the banana). So they sent two of their employees all over the restaurant district to find three flavors of ice cream, whipped cream, chopped nuts,  chocolate and strawberry syrup. They didn't find cherries for the topping, my apologies. Then they had to make it look like the one in the tiny picture on the menu.

I'll have the Banana Split. Hold the cherries

 I still wonder why the waiter didn't just tell me that they weren't serving banana splits and would I like something else. It could be that my minder had told the manager in advance that he would be having an important guest for lunch and to make sure nothing went wrong.

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Florida Flintstones

Brazil Carnaval 2007

I hired two Brazilian men to organize and manage a service network in Brazil sometime around 1998. I had been authorized to hire one Manager and two technical support people but after interviewing eight candidates I realized that two of them were highly qualified for parts of the management job but not for the whole job. One of them had a good background in finance and statistics while the other was an "outdoors" type manager who preferred being out and about working with his brains and hands.

My budget wouldn't cover their salaries plus a tech support guy so I tried to persuade my boss to let me hire the two men and forget about the third one. My manager wasn't sold on my idea to restructure the organization or on traveling to Sao Paulo to interview my two candidates. He simply didn't have time to travel 2 hours to Miami, another 9 hours to Brazil then retrace his way home again. So I suggested that we all meet in Miami. He agreed and I brought Ailton B. and Fernando Y. to Miami to meet my boss.

When I brought my prospects to Miami I took them to Tony Roma's Steakhouse for an evening meal because I knew they liked beef. I had already been introduced to Brazilian steakhouses called Churrascarias where waiters go from table to table with various cuts of meat on a skewer. You pick bits of beef, pork, sausage, lamb, chicken, duck, or other meats from the skewer. A small red/green token next to your plate is used to signal a waiter that your are ready for another serving. It's an all you can eat for one price type of business and when I was there the one price was about $40, a sum I had some problems justifying on my expense account. The meats are so good that two and three hour lunches are not unusual.

Three hours for lunch? No problem, I said

Never having been to the United States, my guests were a little nervous about being here and about which table manners were appropriate. Coming to Miami was big deal. We had a couple of drinks at the bar then moved to the restaurant area. Even after the drinks they were apprehensive about what to order so I suggested one of the rib dishes. We were making small talk while we sipped our third drink when one of the men nudged the other and directed his eyes to a family dining in one of the booths behind me.Then they both started smiling and laughing softly.
I turned to see the family of two adults and three kids enthusiastically devouring their rib dinners. Their lips, cheeks, and fingers oozed Tony Roma's World Famous Barbeque Sauce. The table was littered with the gnawed bones and heavily stained paper napkins balled up and tossed on an empty plate. My guys had not seen anyone eat ribs with their fingers like that. In Brazil and in most countries in Latin America the meat is cut from the bone then eaten with a fork. Ailton looked at his compatriot and whispered, "Los Flintstones". Our ribs were served and both men followed the American custom and gnawed on Dino's bones.
When in Rome...........

Fred and Wilma, what's left of Dino, and Pebbles

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Ribs, bibs and bling

As I mentioned above, in most of Latin America, rib dinners are eaten using a knife to cut the meat from the bones and a fork to eat it. But one time in Bogota my host invited me to dinner at a place that served ribs "a la Americana", meaning Ribs American Style. At that time the dress code for RCA called for white shirts, ties, dark suits, and black shoes. My travel bags had no room for casual clothes so I was a little perturbed about dressing in a suit to go to a rib joint but my host insisted.

Not your average rib joint

"Mr. Ribs" was not a 'rib joint'. It was a sit down restaurant where dinner was served on linen covered tables and with real silver silverware. The waiters wore well cut suit jackets and red cumberbunds. My host and his Sales Manager were dressed in business suits and his wife wore an evening dress, gloves, and a fur wrap. They all wore a lot of bling. I felt underdressed compared to them.

We took our seats in a remote corner of the room and I looked around and saw that everyone was dressed to the nines in this 'rib joint'. It made me wonder why this was called an American style rib joint. Our waiter served our wine and took our order. A few minutes later he returned with clear plastic bibs that covered us from neck to knee, and pairs of oversized, clear plastic gloves that covered my arms to the elbow. It was then obvious that in this restaurant Colombians could eat like the Flintstones and look good doing it.

"I said, we're having dinner at Mr. Ribs."

Remember to bring the Doggy Bag!

My weekend on the Starship Enterprise

Long ago, in a galaxy far away, I was a crew member on the Starship Enterprise.

Well, no. The long ago I'm talking about was 17 years ago in downtown Miami. For some, Miami is on another planet given its unique place in the cultural spectrum of the USA. It's been called the capital of Latin America. Hundreds of flights to Latin America start and end there. You can go to Europe or the islands in the Caribbean from Miami but the huge majority of the flights go to South and Central America. Miami is home to ex-pats from dozens of countries worldwide. Anyone from just about anywhere in the world can find fully developed enclaves reflecting his or her country of origin, even Romulans or Vulcans.

Booga, booga, earthlings

Back in 1994 RCA hired me to set up and administer a service center network in each country where RCA was sold. That meant virtually every country and island south and east of Miami. I was to travel to each country or island to find, vet, and train technicians on the vagueries and quirks of our products. Until I was hired, this had not been done before though our salesmen had been opening markets for the 3 prior years. I was to be the  Service Operations Manager; a 47 year old, 130 pound Superman. My international experience up to then included some border crossings to Juarez, Mexico and a year's tour of Asia with the military. My corporate experience was zero.

The paragraphs above are the set up for how I became an unwilling Starship crew member for two days in June of 1994.

Departing or arriving? After a while I couldn't remember

RCA expected much from me. Carefully concealing my many trepidations about what to do next, I made a travel plan which would take me to a different country every week. The plan was to travel on Tuesdays and return to Miami on Fridays. I had no idea what RCA could do for me or what I could ask for without looking inexperienced so I asked for nothing that was not related to the business. I had no car and no place to stay. My family was still in El Paso prepping our house to sell. I found out later that RCA could have done a lot for me in those first months.
              
The first order of business was where to stay. Knowing nothing at all about Miami I drove down major streets until I found the Ernesto Motel near the airport. The rooms were moderately priced. I could rent by the day. Across the street there were modern office buildings and all around were apartment buildings. Looked ok. I should have been more careful but what did I know about anything?

$35 per night or $10 per hour

Does the eye shadow make me look fat?

The Ernesto Motel had two sections. The U-shaped structure had single story units on either side of the U and a two story section in the center. A woman with too much makeup and too red lipstick checked me into the upper story rooms. Between puffs of smoke from her cigarette she said "Thirty-five dollars a day, payable in advance, no credit, no credit cards!!" It was late, I checked in, fell asleep right away. It wasn't until the next night that I realized that the units on the laterals were rooms rented by the hour -- no credit, no credit cards and no doubt, rooms where you could take a shower and have a 45 minute catnap before you had to check out.

NO!!

For the next few weeks the routine was the same: Fly out on Tuesday, return Friday, spend the weekend at the Ernesto. My attempts at sociability with the woman in the office were ignored --- "$35, pay in advance, no credit, no credit cards" began and ended her conversations with me. Then one day, returning from a trip, I twisted my ankle so badly I could barely walk. Burdened with my garment bag and laptop, every step I took was agonizing. When I arrived at the Ernesto I asked for a room on the first floor, explaining that I was hurt. "Thirty-five dollars, in advance, room 2B". I asked again but she said no.

The longest mile

I paid, picked up my bags and began to climb the stairs, placing the bags on a riser, stepping up; placing the bags on the riser, stepping up; placing the bags on a riser, stepping up. I heard a whisper behind me, "Dios mio", as I reached the top of the stairs and turned left to my room, 2B.

It hurt as bad as it looked

 As I lay on the bed with my foot on a pillow my adventure on the Starship was about to begin. There was a soft knock on the door and Miss Congeniality from the office came in carrying a bucket of ice, a plastic bag and some towels. She put the ice in the bag, wrapped it a towel and put it on my swollen ankle. Then she stood on a chair and turned on the old TV, the one with a manual, rotary channel changer.

I listened to the local news and when that was over the announcer brayed that the                      48 HOUR STAR TREK MARATHON IS NEXT! 
"My god," I thought, "I've died and gone to a circle of hell that even Dante never imagined."

Me too, Cap'n Quirk. Me too.

Trick or Treat!!

Scene: There I was, an employee of a manufacturer of 7 million state of the art TV's each year plus twice as many remote controls. I was in bed with a painfully twisted ankle, an ancient Muntz TV that could only be reached by standing on a chair, no remote control; and William Shatner with his cast from Hollywood's Finest Halloween Costume Emporium playing all weekend. Tales told by idiots. Sound, fury, and in some episodes I'm sure I saw Furries.

"Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage
And then is heard no more: it is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing."                              Macbeth

Scene from a "lost" episode of Star Trek

If it starts to rain remember to close your mouths, boys

One of these days, Alice, to the Moon!

You may have guessed by now that I don't care for science fantasy/fiction and I especially don't like TV costume soap operas that litter the set with bad science while committing felonious assault of the laws of physics, credibility, and method acting. Fortunately, all I had to do to keep from driving pencils into my ears was to kick my bad ankle with my good foot. Hard.