From The Archives: Keys And Kebabs

CHAPTER TWO: Keys and Kebabs
While employed at "FBI", I was told by my boss (or as I was know referring to him with family and friends as the worst human being alive) that we would be calling on colleges and universities in the south. I would also be spending a few days at the Ilco/Unican factory to see their products and learn about them more. Of course, I did not feel good about this trip at all but was stuck. I had to go. The events that happened over this week from hell would have made Hitler uncomfortable. I could have made a movie about this week that would have been funnier than Cannonball Run and Stroker Ace combined.
The trip was to be made in the first week of February and would be from a Monday to a Saturday. I grimaced at the thought of losing a weekend- and worse off, spending it with Alex the Iranian monster. I tried so hard to be positive by thinking it may be a good opportunity to learn and surely the weather would be nicer (turns out it was amazing- the only good thing to come from the trip). Soon I was told that "Mark" our New York sales rep would be coming on the journey as well. Mark turned out to be a fiftysomething Iranian guy who made Jeffrey Dahmer seem not so creepy. He came to visit our office and walked around with his hands behind his back and his jaw sticking out. I have to admit- the dude looked intent on learning and made you feel that he really was interested in every word that came out of your mouth. But he smelled like a cigarette's ass, and wore the worst Bill Cosby sweaters known to man. Little did I know how much more I would get to know this cat over the trip.
The day came, and like most normal people, I thought we would be leaving as soon as we got to work. Especially since it was snowing in Philadelphia that day. But nope, that would be easy, and with Alex, every bit of minutae had to be done the most difficult way ever. I kept prodding him throughout the day, "c'mon Alex, we better hit the road- its going to be bad out". In one Iranian ear and out the other. "Mah-ty we will be fine". I knew we wouldn't. When we left it was 5 o'clock in the afternoon at the height of rush hour after it had been snowing all day. Being the road warrior that I am, I knew it would be easier for us to head south on 295 through Jersey. Alex scoffed at the suggestion – "That's out of the way" he told me. I tried arguing, but knew my efforts would prove futile. As we got on 95, it was a parking lot. The distance from the Ben Franklin bridge to the Walt Whitman bridge is probably about 2-3 miles. It took us just over two dreadful hours. And how could I forget- when I tried to put on headphones and doze off Alex freaked out and said we could listen to his "sales" tapes. These tapes were on how to sell to people and were being narrated by some Tony Robbins flunkie. So there I am, dead tired, sitting in a traffic jam with two middle aged Iranian men listening to sales tapes. If you told me I would be in the situation when I was a kid, I would have played in oncoming traffic more often.
After we finally got out of that mess, we were told we were stopping in Washington D.C. to see Alex's son who was a student at George Washington. Oh, we weren't going to see him, he was going to drop us off in Georgetown and we had to pay for our own meals. He forcibly suggested we go to an Iranian food place. All the while I am thinking, "well, when in Rome….". So, me and my new Iranian friend Mark had a romantic meal at this Iranian place. I have to admit, I got a kebob and it was pretty good but I felt the eyes behind the counter piercing into my skin and was sure some kind of bomb or poison was basted onto my delicious chicken kebob.
After dinner, we were to meet Alex at The Four Seasons lobby at 11 PM. This is after a long day of work, driving, and sales tapes. 11 oclock comes and goes- we sit there until 1230am. I was beyond fury at this point because while most companies would consider this work, this ignorant, arrogant, cheap pompous son of a bitch wasn't going to pay us for this. And we still had to go to Richmond which is a cool two hours away. Alex pulled up and his apology was about as heartfelt as a punch in the face from your worst enemy. I just muttered Iranian curse words back to him that Mark taught me that night and got into the car.