I touched down at Shannon Airport the other Monday and immediately thought, "Gosh, it hasn't changed much in the last 20 years." It looked almost identical to how I saw it back then.
The supplier I was to visit was only minutes from the airport. I was a bit anxious about the whole visit, as I'm sort of the "available" resource that got thrown into things. True, I'm probably the right person for the task, but I did have the initial feeling I was in a bit over my head.
The cab driver delivered me to the wrong location initially, which was both comical and frustrating, but my counterpart came and collected me within a couple of minutes, and I realized we'd be OK as soon as I heard some Bruce Springsteen blaring from his car stereo.
Fifteen minutes later I'd met about 10 minutes people, all with Irish names, and I was a bit overwhelmed. But, I was finding my stride pretty quickly and was eager to get on with things. The contact center is an important element to our operation, and the last time we tried this (see the blogs from early 2007) we (my company and I) did a pretty fair job of cocking things up. Though the decision to move the call center into Ireland from Scotland wasn't mine, I was determined to make sure we didn't make the same mistake a second time.
We had some productive meetings during the course of the afternoon, and I was exhausted at the end of the day when I got to my hotel nearby the offices. At check in, I didn't pay much attention when the lady tried to draw me a map from reception to my room, and I regretted it ten minutes later while I was wandering up and down the longest corridors I've ever seen in search of room 287.
At last I found my room, and quickly unpacked my things, ready for a bit of dinner and a pint or two. I still got lost on the way back to the hotel bar, but figured that in a day or two, I'd have the layout pretty well under control.
Because the call center is multilingual, it was interesting to hear everyone speak. Besides the natives, all the expats, including the German and the Spanish, also spoke with Irish accents. I actually wasn't that surprised by this, as I'd encountered the same thing while in Edinburgh. However, it is particularly noticable when you're around a lot of people who have to talk for a living.
I found a similar thing at the hotel pub; the Indian barman, who has been in Ireland for easily five years, was sounding pretty authentic. However, I smiled more than once as I listened to him say, "Howyeah?" (typical Northside Dub) because it came out, "How are you?" about as crisp as you like.
My colleagues took me out for dinner Wednesday night, and we got to know one another a bit better. We strengthened our relationship a bit further the following evening when my counterpart and I discussed the quality of Nick Cave, Tom Waits, and the Gaslight Anthem over a beer. The guy is quite into music, though he misunderstood my earlier remark about an upcoming show I was hoping to go to in Leipzig as that I was a fan of Danzig. OK, but these things can happen.
I woke up Thursday morning to a news report about some problems involving the volcanic ash from Iceland. Now, I don't usually watch a lot of television at the best of times, but I realized very quickly that I'd likely not get back to Germany so easily; things looked to be quickly getting out of control. I monitored some websites throughout the day to learn that the airspace in the UK, Ireland, and then Germany were all closing up tight.
I sort of resigned myself to the fact that I'd have to miss the Bouncing Souls show in Leipzig the following evening, though part of me had already abandoned hope of getting to that show before I'd even boarded the airplane for Ireland. However, my intent was still to quietly endure another birthday (even a landmark one) rather quietly and with minimal fuss.
Friday morning, I knew everything was beyond control. I sort of dismissed things with a "Well, shit happens," but nevertheless felt a bit pessimistic (what!!?? really??!! Bryan, a pessimist??!!) and figured I'd be spending the weekend in Ireland.
Now, in one sense, that idea does sound kind of appealing: unplanned adventure, underwear reserve almost nil. On the other hand, I'd had a pretty exhausting week, was going to miss a show, and there were a few people I wanted to see back in Germany, nevermind the sort of alarming uncertainty that comes with the whole, "hmmm, not really sure when things are going to get sorted out" thought that was in my head.
I think it was this last bit that got to me. I'm extremely flexible with things that are beyond my control, but I'm also a bit cautious; I felt more inclined to lie low over the weekend rather than go off and spend a packet of money on a "holiday" touristy weekend, particularly since I wasn't so sure how long I'd actually be stuck.
I recently read a novel where an entire town got cut off from the rest of the world. Initially, everyone was excited at the novelty and sort of partied their way through things. Things unfortunately went downhill rather quickly to a point where only about 11 people survived the incident.
OK, kind of an extreme example, even without the crystal meth manufacturing plant and the wacko that set off a bomb, but I couldn't help but get an eerie feeling, despite the dissimilarity of the two events.
So, instead of simply throwing caution into the wind, I quietly went and bought some clean underwear, socks, and a crime novel, watched a bit of football (thanks, Arsenal for the last 10 minutes of that disastrous game), enjoyed some quiet time and really just caught up on some needed sleep.
Once, over the weekend, I overheard some travellers loudly complaining about the fact that they were stuck and couldn't get home to the states.
I kept relatively quiet through it all, thinking more about those folks who really were stranded, short of cash, perhaps with medical emergencies, or whatever. Sure, my situation isn't particularly the greatest, and I may have to get graphic when convincing my boss to sign my expense report where I paid 20 Euro to clean five pairs of socks and boxers, but things could certainly be worse, you know? After all, I'm in a decent hotel, around mostly pleasant guests and locals, the weather is nice, and I've just enjoyed the quiet experience.
The interaction I've had with the Irish (regardless of where they come from) has been quite the highlight. I had to explain sheepishly that I needed a plug converter so I could power my laptop and charge my handy, and yesterday evening, I had the pleasure of attempting to assist a couple in their late 70s with a tire that was running low on air. The woman was most appreciative and apologetic of my efforts (once she discovered that I spoke English; gosh have I been gone that long?) even though I managed to further deflate her tire as we discovered that the air compressor wasn't working. However, I scored points and was thanked as a gentleman as I gave the woman directions to the next petrol station a couple of minutes down the road.
Thanks to all for the SMS, the skypes, the emails, and the phone calls, regardless of the hour from the past few days, and thanks especially for those of you who put me in my place for lack of adventure and creativity.
Sure, I may start a bit slow, but save for open goals where I tend to send the ball shooting over the bar into row H, I do have a bit of a touch. Make no mistake, I do finish strong.
keep the faith.
bryan
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