Good References

Schatz looked across the desk and said, "I see from your application that you're American, Mr Peret." Joe sat up straighter in his chair and cleared his throat. "Yeah, from Brooklyn. Dat's in New Yawk. An' how 'bout you, Mr Schatz? Where you from?"

Schatz pointed to the small flag which stood next to the overflowing ash tray on his desk, a white cross on a red field. "I should think you could tell from this that I'm Swiss," he said.

"Oh, I thought it meant you was a lifeguard," said Joe. The two men looked at each other in silence. Joe coughed uneasily. "Sorry, dat was a joke."

"Ah, I see. American humor. Well, let's talk about your work history, Mr Peret. I see that while you've only been in Thailand for five years, you've held more than a dozen jobs. You began your career in the Kingdom working on the radio, is that right?"

Joe was glad for the change in subject. "Yeah, matter of fact, I was da first farang in dis country ever got a work permit to broadcast outside of Bangkok. Did a rock n' roll show, eight to midnight, every night, for six months." Schatz tapped a finger lightly on the desk. "So what happened?"

"Well, dey was having a hard time sellin' da advertisin', cuz everybody knew nobody was listenin' to the show. I mean, what tourist sits in his hotel room scannin' the FM dial, ya know? So I went roun' da bars tellin' 'em I'd give 'em free plugs on the air if dey played da show on da speakers. Worked great, we had listeners anyway. But da boss din't unnerstand about givin' nuttin away for free. He thought I was takin' money under da table ta plug dese joints, and I probably shouldha been, but I was new in town, ya know? So he fires me."

Schatz raised one carefully trimmed eyebrow. "You were fired for corruption? In Thailand?"

"Uh-huh. I'm probly in da history books."

Schatz rubbed a finger along the side of his nose and dipped his head to hide a smile. "So then you were, let's see, manager of a tanning salon?"

"Right. Place went bust. Some guy got a deal on a dozen tanning booths dat were abandoned in customs and put 'em into a shop-front on Patong beach. Tanning booths on da beach. Who'd a figgered dat would't work out?"

Schatz recognized the rhetorical nature of the question and continued to run his eyes down the application. "And next, a Kosher delicatessen on Rawai Beach. Where is Rawai Beach?"

"Little Muslin fishing village at the bottom tip of Phuket. I had a deli, great location, tons of foot traffic, right next to the mosque. Still don't know why that one went bottom-up."

"And the job selling children's books door-to-door?"

"Some kinda trouble wit da work permit. You know how it is."

"Um... yes. Then you did marketing for Ye Old Rustique Juice Bar. What happened there."

"Da owner made his girlfriend da manager."

"Ah, too bad. I used to like that place. What's occupying that building now, a pet store, I think?"

"Veterinarian's office."

"And finally, let's see, you were a Guest Relations Manager at the Thalang Beach Nouveau Riche Resort." Schatz looked at Joe with both of his absolutely symmetrical eyebrows raised.

"May I ask...?"

"Dey dint like da way I dress." Joe sat perfectly still, allowing Schatz to take in his unpressed trousers and mud-spattered shoes.

"Truth is, wearing long pants in da tropics gives me a rash. Most o' da time I wear shorts."

Schatz ran his gaze up and down the paper one last time. "No references?" he asked. The odor of tobacco coming up from the ash tray in front of Joe was giving him a tremendous craving for a smoke, but he didn't reach for his pack. He kept his hands clasped in a sweaty knot in his lap. "I can give you da name o' my dentist. He's done a lot o' work for me, and nobody knows ya better dan da guy dat puts his fingers in ya mouth, right?"

"I was thinking more of work-related references. Nobody I could call at your last place of employment?"

"Nah. I wouldn't bother if I was you."

There was a heavy stillness in the room as Schatz regarded the application again. Joe knew that the man wasn't reading, there wasn't that much on the paper to read. He was thinking, and he didn't want to look at Joe while he thought. Joe looked around the room and let the man think.

Finally Schatz stood up and reached across the desk, offering Joe his right hand. "Can you start at eight o'clock, Monday morning?" he asked. Joe jumped from his chair and grabbed the other man's hand in a double-fisted grip. "Can I? You just wait. I'll be here wid' bells on! You wont' regret dis, Mr Schwartz."

Schatz leaned back, pulling until Joe was bending over the desk, finally jerking his hand free of the American's grip. He reflexively wiped his palm on his trousers. "Bells won't be necessary, Mr Peret, but long trousers would be nice," he said. He saw the grin leave Joe's face and added, "I guess shorts are suitable, as long as they are cleaned and have a crease. It's really the accent that's most important, most of our clients want the American accent. You'll begin with the 8 to 10-year-olds, and have the teenagers after lunch."

"I'm confident you'll make an excellent English teacher, Mr Peret."

© Steve Rosse. All rights reserved by the author.

The author can be contacted at: shavethemonkeys@gmail.com

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If you enjoyed this short story by Steve Rosse you can read more of his work by purchasing his books, 'Thai Vignettes' and 'Expat Days' online at BangkokBooks.com. Here's the direct links to each for easy purchase.

Thai Vignettes: http://www.bangkokbooks.com/php/product/product.php?product_id=000025&sub_cate_name=&sub_cate_id

Expat Days: http://www.bangkokbooks.com/php/product/product.php?product_id=000032&sub_cate_name=&sub_cate_id