Musings: My friend, the alcoholic
Musings: My friend, the alcoholic
My friend, the alcoholic
By Prakash Subbarao
(E-mail: info@datadubai.com)
We met in 1985 when I joined a well known company in Madras (now known as Chennai) in South India.
I was instrumental in hiring him and he joined the company as a trainee.
He was a tall, confident good looking lad. What used to impress me was his “can do” attitude.
Gradually he graduated from a “can do” to a “can definitely do” to “the impossible I do first” attitude.
We put him to the test several times. He came through with flying colours each time. How he did it, I do not know.
Once, the entire sales team was on holiday in Goa in India. It was a holiday that they had earned the hard way – they had achieved tough sales and collection targets. The company was rewarding them by paying for all expenses for this trip (including for unlimited alcohol).
I was with them when I received a message that I had to urgently return to head quarters. The only way to get there in time was to catch a flight.
All flights were full.
I turned to our company distributor there – head of one of the oldest and most respected families of Goa. They called Indian Airlines and spoke to several of their cronies there but to no avail. It was the tourist season and there were just no tickets available.
I turned to my “trainee’ – let’s call him G. “Can you do it?” I asked him. “Give me the money for the ticket” was his laconic reply.
Half an hour later he was back. “What happened?” I asked. “Got it” was his reply. Our distributor’s jaw dropped in disbelief. G was that kind of guy.
His achievement soon took him beyond the position of a trainee to that of a sales officer. He traveled far and wide in South India. I used him as a “Mr. Fix it”, sending him wherever I had a problem that I needed solving. He solved problems quickly and efficiently.
When he joined the company he was a teetotaler.
Soon he was ordering a beer every now and then.
It wasn’t long before he graduated to the harder stuff.
He had a peculiar way of drinking alcohol that should have alerted us in advance. If the group was drinking, say, whisky, the others would add water (or soda) but he would just down the drink neat in one go. He would soon be on his second and then on the third drink whilst the others were still starting. Before we knew it, he would be fast asleep.
One day he came to me and told me “I have a better job. I want to leave, with your permission”. It appeared that he had applied to an Omani company and had attended their interview and had been selected. He was to leave for Muscat in a week’s time. Later in the afternoon I to another shock. My service engineer also informed me that he had got a job in Oman and requested permission to leave.
It was decided by us, the remaining members of the sales team, that we would give the two a sendoff that they would never forget in their lives.
“Where would you like to have us all go for your farewell party?” I asked G. “Thekkady” he replied without a moment’s hesitation.
Thekkady, for those that do not know India, is a densely forested area in the southern state of Kerala. It is famous for its wild life, especially wild elephants.
“I have a second request” said G. “I have never flown before in an aircraft and am scared that I will get nervous when I board the aircraft to Oman” he said. “Will you accompany me on a flight so that I can get over my fear?”
We all nodded in agreement.
We had a terrific send off party for G and for the sales engineer at Thekkady. From there we went to Trivandrum and caught a flight to Bangalore. The same flight would go on to Madras, where G’s family stayed. He would be on duty till the flight landed at Bangalore. From there on, he was on his own.
It was an emotional farewell. Eyes were moist all around as we left the aircraft at Bangalore.
Fast forward to the United Arab Emirates in 1998.
I contacted G’s company in Muscat to find out where he was. He is in Buraimi, they told me.
Buraimi is a city adjacent to the UAE town of Al Ain. Only a road hump separates the two. One is in Oman, the other in UAE. There are no borders. One can drive back and forth at will. There is no checking.
In those days Buraimi was famous for two things.
It was primarily known for new cars. The prices of new cars in Buraimi were much cheaper than that in the UAE so that people used to go to Buraimi, buy a new car, and drive it across the border to the UAE where they had it registered.
The second reason that Buraimi was famous was that pirated software was freely available there. People in the UAE drove down to Buraimi with a shopping list of software. One gave the list to the computer stores, haggled the price, paid an advance, and returned a few hours later to cart away the loot.
It was for the second reason that I was going to the UAE. My son-in-law wanted to buy some software and I decided to go along with him.
Amazingly, the computer store that sold the pirated software was within walking distance of the company where G worked. I could see its board in the distance. So I decided to walk across and meet him.
The security guard stopped me at the gate. I told him that I was an old friend of G and wanted to meet him. His attitude instantly changed. G, it seemed, was the head of the Buraimi show!
“Where is he?” I asked the guard. “He is at home. I will telephone and call him” the guard replied.
Home? At 11 am?
Soon G ambled up. From a distance he looked the same lanky boyish G. But a closer look revealed gaunt hollow eyes, a two day stubble, and whisky on his breath.
G used to thrive on challenge. The company had posted him in a one horse town and had effectively killed G’s spirit. Boredom turned to frustration and frustration found release in alcohol.
G starts his day with a drink. And ends it with a drink.
I pleaded with him to stop but he was too far gone to even care.
I just couldn’t bear to see the sight of G like this. This handsome, proud achiever stallion in India had become an old run down alcoholic horse in Buraimi.
I decided then and there that I would never come back to Buraimi to see G. I prefer to retain the memories I have of him as a dashing go getter.
By Prakash Subbarao
(E-mail: info@datadubai.com)
We met in 1985 when I joined a well known company in Madras (now known as Chennai) in South India.
I was instrumental in hiring him and he joined the company as a trainee.
He was a tall, confident good looking lad. What used to impress me was his “can do” attitude.
Gradually he graduated from a “can do” to a “can definitely do” to “the impossible I do first” attitude.
We put him to the test several times. He came through with flying colours each time. How he did it, I do not know.
Once, the entire sales team was on holiday in Goa in India. It was a holiday that they had earned the hard way – they had achieved tough sales and collection targets. The company was rewarding them by paying for all expenses for this trip (including for unlimited alcohol).
I was with them when I received a message that I had to urgently return to head quarters. The only way to get there in time was to catch a flight.
All flights were full.
I turned to our company distributor there – head of one of the oldest and most respected families of Goa. They called Indian Airlines and spoke to several of their cronies there but to no avail. It was the tourist season and there were just no tickets available.
I turned to my “trainee’ – let’s call him G. “Can you do it?” I asked him. “Give me the money for the ticket” was his laconic reply.
Half an hour later he was back. “What happened?” I asked. “Got it” was his reply. Our distributor’s jaw dropped in disbelief. G was that kind of guy.
His achievement soon took him beyond the position of a trainee to that of a sales officer. He traveled far and wide in South India. I used him as a “Mr. Fix it”, sending him wherever I had a problem that I needed solving. He solved problems quickly and efficiently.
When he joined the company he was a teetotaler.
Soon he was ordering a beer every now and then.
It wasn’t long before he graduated to the harder stuff.
He had a peculiar way of drinking alcohol that should have alerted us in advance. If the group was drinking, say, whisky, the others would add water (or soda) but he would just down the drink neat in one go. He would soon be on his second and then on the third drink whilst the others were still starting. Before we knew it, he would be fast asleep.
One day he came to me and told me “I have a better job. I want to leave, with your permission”. It appeared that he had applied to an Omani company and had attended their interview and had been selected. He was to leave for Muscat in a week’s time. Later in the afternoon I to another shock. My service engineer also informed me that he had got a job in Oman and requested permission to leave.
It was decided by us, the remaining members of the sales team, that we would give the two a sendoff that they would never forget in their lives.
“Where would you like to have us all go for your farewell party?” I asked G. “Thekkady” he replied without a moment’s hesitation.
Thekkady, for those that do not know India, is a densely forested area in the southern state of Kerala. It is famous for its wild life, especially wild elephants.
“I have a second request” said G. “I have never flown before in an aircraft and am scared that I will get nervous when I board the aircraft to Oman” he said. “Will you accompany me on a flight so that I can get over my fear?”
We all nodded in agreement.
We had a terrific send off party for G and for the sales engineer at Thekkady. From there we went to Trivandrum and caught a flight to Bangalore. The same flight would go on to Madras, where G’s family stayed. He would be on duty till the flight landed at Bangalore. From there on, he was on his own.
It was an emotional farewell. Eyes were moist all around as we left the aircraft at Bangalore.
Fast forward to the United Arab Emirates in 1998.
I contacted G’s company in Muscat to find out where he was. He is in Buraimi, they told me.
Buraimi is a city adjacent to the UAE town of Al Ain. Only a road hump separates the two. One is in Oman, the other in UAE. There are no borders. One can drive back and forth at will. There is no checking.
In those days Buraimi was famous for two things.
It was primarily known for new cars. The prices of new cars in Buraimi were much cheaper than that in the UAE so that people used to go to Buraimi, buy a new car, and drive it across the border to the UAE where they had it registered.
The second reason that Buraimi was famous was that pirated software was freely available there. People in the UAE drove down to Buraimi with a shopping list of software. One gave the list to the computer stores, haggled the price, paid an advance, and returned a few hours later to cart away the loot.
It was for the second reason that I was going to the UAE. My son-in-law wanted to buy some software and I decided to go along with him.
Amazingly, the computer store that sold the pirated software was within walking distance of the company where G worked. I could see its board in the distance. So I decided to walk across and meet him.
The security guard stopped me at the gate. I told him that I was an old friend of G and wanted to meet him. His attitude instantly changed. G, it seemed, was the head of the Buraimi show!
“Where is he?” I asked the guard. “He is at home. I will telephone and call him” the guard replied.
Home? At 11 am?
Soon G ambled up. From a distance he looked the same lanky boyish G. But a closer look revealed gaunt hollow eyes, a two day stubble, and whisky on his breath.
G used to thrive on challenge. The company had posted him in a one horse town and had effectively killed G’s spirit. Boredom turned to frustration and frustration found release in alcohol.
G starts his day with a drink. And ends it with a drink.
I pleaded with him to stop but he was too far gone to even care.
I just couldn’t bear to see the sight of G like this. This handsome, proud achiever stallion in India had become an old run down alcoholic horse in Buraimi.
I decided then and there that I would never come back to Buraimi to see G. I prefer to retain the memories I have of him as a dashing go getter.
posted by Prakash Subbarao's Blog at
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