Archive

Posts Tagged ‘Columbia’

holiday humour – two more of those days

May 8, 2023 Leave a comment

Talking about my abortive trip to Belfast last week reminded me of another couple of airport incidents, both on overseas trips, where, looking back now, I can see the funny side, even if it was a bit fraught at the time.

The first was on my first overseas assignment after I went freelance. The job was originally scheduled for Venezuela, but the general situation there led the client to change the venue to Bogota, Columbia. A team of people from their various South American locations would be flown in for me to work with, I was given a choice of two, client approved, hotels to stay in and left to make my own flight arrangements.

I confirmed with the client, an American Oil company, the hotel that I had booked into and gave them my flight details. I was coming in via Miami and would be landing about 8.30 in the evening. The client was concerned about the kidnap risk, and so I had been told that I would have an armed escort for the short trip between the hotel and office, and there would be a driver waiting for me as I came out of arrivals at Bogota.

The sun set shortly after we took off from Miami and it was very dark at Bogota. I got through the formalities with no problems, collected my case and headed out into the arrivals hall to find no sign of the client’s logo amongst the waiting drivers. I waited in the general vicinity, but everyone slowly drifted away as the last of the passengers emerged.

I found a seat and got the instructions out of my bag, found the contact number and rang it, only to be confronted with a message in Spanish, which I don’t speak, from the ‘phone service provider. There was no sign of anyone in the arrivals hall by this time and so I decided that I would look outside to see if there was a taxi rank: I could show the hotel details and ask “For favor” and felt sure that an airport taxi driver would accept US dollars for the fare.

On leaving the building I was approached by a man in a suit who asked if I was Mr Bowen. I said that I was at which point he produced from under his jacket, not a gun, but a laminated copy of the logo that I had been looking for. He was my driver. When I mentioned this to one of the US team later he explained that it probably was not safe to have displayed the logo inside the terminal…

A few months later (obviously I had got home safely), I found myself boarding another aircraft, this time for the shorter trip from Heathrow to Tripoli, another place where the security risk assessment was a crucial, pre-trip, document.

This time my arrival would be in the early afternoon, and, yes, I was a little nervous. My contract forbad me to leave my hotel, other that to go to work in the transport provided, and that I was not allowed to leave the business premises other than to be escorted back to my hotel, along with the rest of the team. For security purposes, that hotel was changed at the last moment too.

Although I was travelling alone I was part of a team, and the others were flying in one day earlier and by a different route. I had been told that there would be someone on the arrivals line who would hold up a card with my surname on, no logos or other identifiers, just Bowen. I walked out of the door and looked at each of the cards being held up, but none with my name on. Bugger, I thought.

The arrivals area was small and busy, but I found a pillar to lean against where I could wedge my case between my legs. Fighting off a stream of offers of drivers (and possibly their sisters, I’m not sure) I got out my ‘phone and the emergency contact number. Having dialled it, and just as it was being answered, a young British guy who I had seen on my flight came over and asked if I was Mr Bowen. I owned up and it turned out the he too was working for the same client, albeit on a different project. Our driver had been holding up a piece of paper with my name on, but in pencil, and I had not seen it. Safely gathered up I was taken into the city.

I got back from that one safely too, but the planned return has never come as the political situation there deteriorated. A shame, as I would have been very happy to have gone back. I’ve not been back to Columbia either, and would have snapped up a return there without hesitation. Both countries left me with a deep affection for their people and I feel privileged to have worked in both, even if I did not get to see too much of either. I have seen the Andes and the Sahara though, met some very nice people and eaten local cuisine. I’m a lucky man.

on going freelance

January 23, 2023 Leave a comment

It’s coming up on fifteen years since I went freelance. I had been thinking about it for five years, having, in 2002, been looking at redundancy. The Berkshire Belle was in the same boat and so we had set up a limited company through which we could trade. As things worked out we both kept our full time employment, but then, for me, came a decision point in 2008.

It was time for my annual review, and I was heading up to London to meet my boss for lunch at the Institute of Directors. When I set out for the station that morning I had no thoughts about what the day might bring. Annual reviews were a chore that you went through and it was, in effect, a day off for me. A mid-morning train ride into Paddington, a decent lunch with a glass of wine and then back home to Swindon. I didn’t take my laptop or even a briefcase. The sun was shining on that early March morning and I was enjoying a day out.

From Paddington I used the Bakerloo line to Charing Cross and walked the half mile or so to the IoD. Meeting my boss there, he was using it as a base for several meetings that day, we had a brief chat and went in to eat. Things went well, and whilst it had not been a great year in terms of one area of work, the reasons for that were well understood and, in other areas I had done well. My bonus for the year was very acceptable and all that remained was to talk about the year ahead.

For each of the previous three years I had been, as they put it, parachuted into a different business division. I worked was a sort of non-executive member of the management team with no direct authority, but in an advisory capacity. In general my temporary colleagues viewed me as an unnecessary addition and I was made as welcome as the ex-boyfriend at the wedding, but there had been some progress and I had learned a lot. But what next?

In each of my previous cuckoo roles I had been able to work from home with the occasional overnight stay, but for 2008/09 they wanted me to work with a division based in Leeds and it was obvious that I would have to stay up there. I liked Leeds a lot, but to have to effectively live up there for a year was not something that I wanted to do. There was an option to find me a flat so that I didn’t have to stay in hotels, but I really wasn’t interested. I knew that to refuse the job meant that I was resigning, and suddenly that seemed the best choice.

We had a telephone conversation with the Personnel Director and a package was agreed. I handed in my mobile ‘phone on the spot, promised to take my laptop into the Birmingham office the next day and was on immediate gardening leave until the end of the month when Leaseplan would come and take away the Audi. I would get three months pay in lieu of notice and would formally leave the company at the end of March.

I left the IoD to walk back to the tube and, as I crossed Trafalgar Square, I was ten feet off the ground. I had not realised what a weight the job had become and freedom was exhilarating. Yes, the times ahead were uncertain, but I was going t go it alone. Every ‘phone call or email could bring a new adventure.

There were a lot of lows, more than there were highs, but I got to work in all sorts of places including Ireland, Columbia, Libya, Thailand and, twice, in China. I worked with companies from SMEs to global businesses with various governments in between and, apart from a couple of rogues, always got paid.

One thing did not change once I gave up the fat salary, private health care and flash car and that was the work ethic. Being your own boss is one thing, but if you don’t work you don’t get paid and the more that you work the more you earn. It is not an easy option, but you stand or fall on your own; own decisions, own quality of work, your own merits. There is no safety net.