Hunting The Snark

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Panzers. 11/21/2006

I have had many ways of travelling to work across the course of my career. Most usually by motorcycle, or sedans of some sort, but sometimes, helicopters, or Land Rovers. For a certain short time, hover craft. Or planes, way too many of them. Never by bicycle though, for some funny reason. Trains featured as well. Walking in loaded for bear, definitely. But my first choice, where ever and when ever possible, has been a motorcycle.

But I guess I’ve reached a certain stage in my career where sometimes, people assume that I take certain luxuries for granted. I am now moving into a phase in the tower, where travelling is again consuming a large amount of my time. Maybe not as much as someone, but for a person like me, where I’m used to having to arrange much of my ground logistics myself, i.e. grabbing a taxi from the airport, I’m beginning to more and more enjoy the luxury accorded by my status in this particular area of the game I play.

So, yesterday morning, just before an extremely important meeting, with an extremely, extremely important man, I walked out of his office, to have a roll-up. I walked out on the driveway, and stood by the side, smoking. I saw the drivers standing on the other side of the driving, smiling at me and nodding their heads in greeting. One or two even gave me a salute.

Now, there was a time, in my youth, when I took salutes for granted, and gave them equally quickly to superiors. And now, in a very strange twist of events, I am near the top of my game. High enough to get nosebleed, or pulmonary edema. I don’t have to salute anyone anymore. I think the number of people I’m required to bow my head to can be measured on the fingers of 2 hands. I am very aware it’s a long way down, from where I’m standing. Easy enough to fuck up my entire career, and find myself sliding down a very slippery pole. So I tend to practise a certain amount of humility, especially when dealing with those who are in the service industries. Politeness never hurt anyone.

Which brings me to the point of this post. Whenever I visit this place, I am accorded a significant status promotion. Strokes my ego, certainly. Not because I’m rich. Or because of power. They want what is inside my head. And thus, I am given a lot of respect and deference by everyone around me. I am sometimes a little uncomfortable with this. Don’t get me wrong, I grew up with having servants, and maids, and my dad still has a chaffeur. But as I got older, and certainly when I started working overseas, a lot of privilege that I grew up with I learned to do without. Well, I started doing without when I moved out of the house at 17, but that’s another story for another time.

But, standing there having a smoke, I saw this…

A group of Panzers, as I like refering to them. No big deal you say? Mercedes all over the bloody place, in the driveway of any hotel? I doubt if you’d see this. All four Panzers above are the V-12 600s. I can just imagine all my biker brothers cringing right about now. But I have never so many of these top of the line S class Mercs in one driveway. What you don’t see is the parking lot to the left, and the rest of the driveway. Filled with these things. All V-12s. About maybe 40 of them.

I guess you would have gathered by now that this was a very important meeting. I’m going to give myself an ego boost and let you know I was sitting by the left hand of the head of the table. And when he heard something from further down the table, he would sometimes turn to me, and look for either a nod, or a shake of the head, from me.

And after the meetings, and the discussions, and a specific order from another even more important man, where he looked me in the eyes, shook my hand, and gave me a choice between playing polo or golf with him, I have suddenly found myself being given a large amount of responsibility by the MD. And no, this wasn’t because I fucking saved his life and his sorry arse the night before.

Anyway, in the picture above, just outside the entrance of the building, the Panzer with the flag belongs to the extremely important man. The one on the far left belongs to someone a little less important. The one in the middle is mine. As in, “Mr. Snark, we’ve assigned this vehicle and a driver to you permanently.”

• Posted in : Work Bitching
• Author : thesnark

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