He dangled freedom in my face…
We had a table of chaps in for dinner the other night. Nice enough fellas I suppose despite their collective fondness for wine coloured sweater and shirts with garish stripes. These were chaps away from home but despite that they seemed to keep their hands and their eyes to themselves, not that I was a likely target for a quick bum pinch it has to be said. Now I knew some of the people on the table, they are regulars in the restaurant, but most were their friends from that Dublin. I didn't recognise them.
But they recognised me.
Which was nice.
Apparently I had served them last year when they met up for their annual golf match. Golf, truly the game of middle aged men with a grandiose sense of self worth. No offense like.
Anyhoo, one of the chaps helloed me on his way back from the gentleman's convenience.
"How you doing there fella?" says he as he stepped right into my space and thrust his hand into mince. Pity he hadn't let me know that he was about to do that as I still had second hand mash and jus on it from the plate I had just cleared. But he said nothing even though I knew he had it all over his hand. I assume that's why we stayed locked in an unmoving hand shake for a period that was way too long to be comfortable.
"Oh I'm fine sir and how are you? Are you enjoying everything tonight?"
"Oh it's great, it's great. It's good to see you again...."
My mind was a blank. It's been known to be in that state on a Saturday night.
"...we had a great night with you the last time we were here."
Okay, so I've served you before.
This went on for a bit - he recited stories from his visit last year etc, all conducted whilst still holding my hand. Crikey missus!
"So, tell me Manuel, what's yer plan, for life like?"
"My plan? For life?"
He got closer to me, practically nose to nose. Thank god he had good breath. "I tell you what it is? Me and a couple of guys, good guys, were talking about you the other day." This had me assuming that they were bad guys.
"Me?"
"Yeah, we are opening a new restaurant and we would love you to help run it. What ya say to that?"
He went on to list all the reasons why he wanted me to run his new venture. Good job he hadn't seen me the day before as I dropped, forgot, huffed and was generally the perfect definition of a bad waiter. Heh.
"Oh really, well that's very nice of you to say", I was blushing. I blush easily. Plus we were still holding hands.
"Would you be interested?"
"Yeah, sure I'd need to know more though?", says I practically whispering as the Glorious Leader was lurking behind the bar. Thankfully Waiter Chum Number 1 was keeping him busy with some story or other. But I was intrigued, a chance out? A new restaurant with people who wanted me? With people who saw my value? Well I was practically skipping out the door giving everyone the finger as I went. I was whistling the theme tune from Escape to Victory....!
He then went onto explain how tough things are in that Dublin at the moment with shops and bars closing at an alarming rate of knots and that now was the time to move further a field, to strike new gold. Where was this going?, I wondered. Where was I going for that matter?!
"So where is this new restaurant gonna be?", asks I.
"Qatar!", says he and with that my dream of skipping out the door disappeared in a flash.
Qatar?
Sake.
There is no escape...NO ESCAPE!
****
Poet Factor results later this afternoon.
i hear the weather’s nice there. unfortunately, they still golf…
win some, lose some eh….
You could call it the Qatar mass experiment !
oh dear…
Was it Mr. Shake Hands Man from Banzai?
ha, I was thinking the same thing….!
Dashed hopes there Manuel,or maybe a lucky escape?I will return to the subject in a later post.But I must have a go at Dingus,who,under the age of 75 is going to pick up on that lame wordplay ‘The Qatarmass Experiment’? We did not all grow up watching George Formby films and listening to Vera Lynn 78′s!With a bit of Neil Diamond thrown in,in a pathetic attempt to present yourself as a ‘happenin’guy.
The pathos of it all,has the inevitability of a Greek tragedy!
boys boys, put the handbags away….
Sure it would give you new things to talk about… one of the ex-journos from our place is on a plane right now to Dubai to start work in Hotelier Middle East News…
what are you trying to say?
being from away i don’t know what ‘Qatar” is. sounds unpleasant so don’t tell me.
palm trees, long beaches, rich Arabs….hell on earth…ha
ewww that means hot, i’m far to pale for hot!
Nice of them to spot your talent, but then also very creepy on another level.
You can’t imagine what strange places may be in your future.
I lived in Kansas for 4 years. Qatar couldn’t be much worse.
ha, Kansas eh….I bet you went down a hoot…..!
Dashed disapointing,my dear fellow,what!Or even,what,what!A bit like the time I inherited Jutland instead of Rutland!
I can visualise you standing there clinging to your supposed benefactor,like a chap riding a mental helter-skelter of emotions.
The light of hope playing on your finely-chiseled shiny face,your eyes dancing with the light of Utopian fervour.The prospect of a glittering future beckoning with bejewelled fingers from the sunny horizon.you stand there imagining a caravanserai of camels burdened with,ivory,peacocks,apes and Star Wars lego sets,all strapped down with stout leather straps.
But,it all comes to naught,these visions snatched cruelly away,like the mirage it was,such as can be found in the arid desert wastes of Qatr!
As the famous Irish poet once put it so succinctly;
”I pray for the rose and the meadow rue,
The clouded yellow and the common blue,
And for the half-promises the world withdrew.”
Neat,what!And copyright!
oh my….!
As summer ends I fear your future holds more Catarrh than Qatar
pleasant thought….
You could sing While my Qatar gently weeps, as you think it over.
hahahaha, quality one….
Can you meet him halfway and agree some sort of consultant role that gets you 3 or 4 free long weekends somewhere warm a year?
20% cut for that idea.
are you saying you want to go on holiday with me?
Why, that’s a very generous offer Manuel. Let me think…
Yes, I’d be delighted to. When are we going?
now there’s a blog post….!
I was once offered a lovely job.
It’s £5k a month. Lovely… I’ll manage, somehow, I’m sure.
Could I start the next week? Sure.
Did I realise it was in Dubai? No.
Can I speak Arabic? No.
Oh, bye then. Ah.
Far too hot.
Stay where you are and feather your nest – that’s my strategy on life.
Dont know about you but i couldn’t live in that heat as dara o’brein put it “the melting point of an irishman is 23c”
Hi Manuel, the following is the words of the National Anthem of Qatar… You are going to have to learn this by heart.
Swearing by God who erected the sky
Swearing by God who spread the light
Qatar will always be free
Sublimed by the souls of the sinceres
Procede thou on the manners of the ascendants
And advance on Prophets guidance
In my heart,
Qatar is an epic of glory and dignity
Qatar is land of the early men
Who protect us at time of distress,
Doves they can be at times of peace,
Warriors they are at times of sacrifice.
Just rolls off the tongue, should be a piece of cake to learn, by the way tomorrow is their Independance day, so you can give it a go at work !
Manuel,
I take it this would be a senior role then? Management perhaps? So Manuel T Manager it is then? How would you feel about that?
As for hot, wikipedia tells me it’s hotter than a really hot, hot, hot thing. 53c from June to August- eeek! Humid too.
Sharia law – hmmmm what’s not to like? [ironic smiley]
Still it could make for better stories.
When are you going? ;o)
Nowt wrong with Qatar. I’ve been living there for 6 years now. For one thing, there’s no income tax.