Like most of my meetings in Indonesia, this was finalised with very short notice. This meeting was with a very, very senior marketing executive in a large organisation here. So it required a lot of preparation on the flights, the transit and in the hotel. I actually walked to SQ966 with my bag slung over one shoulder while my laptop was open and cradled in the other arm so I could read my notes while I was walking.
Woe is me.
My Indonesian colleague and I were the presenters. He's a notoriously tardy person, especially in the mornings. Even his local colleagues joke about his reputation for lateness ... quite an accomplishment in a country that is already running late for everything.
He's more of a night person I suggested that we meet up in the evening after I arrived. A 9pm meeting is OK by him.
I tried contacting him on arrival at the airport, from the cab and on arrival in the hotel. I couldn't get through to him for the next 1 1/2 hours, until finally he answered the phone.
He was out, he hadn't been sure my arrival time, he wondering anyway why haven't I called him until now? He suggested we should try 7am in the hotel breakfast room.
Me: "7 am? Are you serious?"
-- "Yes of course!"
"Come on! You don't have a 7am bone in your body. I know who I'm talking to."
-- "Mate we need to prepare."
"Yes but I don't believe you can make it. We have a lot to do. Let's make it 7.30. Can you commit to arriving at 7.30? On time? We will have enough time before we leave at 9.15 for the client office."
-- "OK. Fine."
"Promise you'll be on time?"
-- "No problem!"
"OK. I'm counting on you."
-- "OK. See you then. Man you worry too much. You're in Indonesia now so just relax ..."
I turned up at 7.28.
He turned up at 9.00. Maybe 9.02.
For the next 5 minutes (maybe 3) he gave me a lot of good suggestions for what we could have done in preparation if we'd had time to work on it together. We left at 9.05.
I teased him later why he was late. This time. He said he had a big night in a massage parlour, which is where he had been when I spoke to him last night. He had run into some other colleagues from work. I asked some leading questions based around the massage parlour metaphor and he answered using other metaphors and some eye rolling. So I retreated out of fear of what I would find out, then got brave and asked some more questions, then retreated again, then asked, then retreated. I was like a small dog testing whether the hissing cat is really going to strike.
In the end of all that I'm not sure if we were talking about a blowjob or a handjob. But I knew we were talking about a job. Someone was doing their job last night. And it wasn't him.
