June 2011

Welcome to Customs Clearance’s new Coffee Break Communiqué.

You know we’ve been making changes lately – taking up the challenge of ‘going social’ with a blog (www.customsclearancetalk.com) and a Twitter feed (follow @RudeeBertie for travel, freight and customs news, views and updates).

But the word on the wires is that you’ve been missing the Coffee Break Stories, our little snippets of travel-related fiction. We hear you like taking a few minutes to kick-back on the day with your choice of warm beverage and a chuckle at our stories.

So they’re back – we’ll be sharing a few of our ‘best-of’ Coffee Break Stories and drafting some fresh new fiction for you over the coming months, so take five, and enjoy the read below.

And if you want to stay in touch with our working world, take a few minutes to check out the latest blog postings. You can read each post as it comes out too; just check out the page and click to subscribe to the RSS feed. We’d love you to join in – engage in the conversation on Twitter, or by commenting on our blog postings.

On our travels:

Busy in Brussels – we’ve been seen at another Triangle event
Putting ourselves about – at WCA in Vietnam

Some of our featured businesses:

Global Logistics – GOfer it! – GOfers Logistics
Pan European Courier Services – Independent Express
Freight Forwarding at Schiphol – Your Cargo Contact
Straight Forward Freight Forwarding – Linc Freight Management

We hope you’ll enjoy becoming an active participant in the community we’re creating and that we can continue to help and support one another’s businesses across the globe.

Meltdown in Madrid

Here’s an old favourite Coffee Break Story first published in 2008:

It was, all in all, a disastrous trip – one of those ‘meltdown’ moments. You know, the kind of time you look back on and a chill runs down your spine and the blood rushes to your face. Mortal embarrassment from start to finish.

I was in Madrid on an overnighter. I’d got there early but the hotel had my room ready and let me check in. I dumped my case, grabbed a quick sandwich and headed off for my meeting. I was told it was just a 5 minute walk from the hotel. Yeah.. right… And that’s where my problems started.

I walked and walked. I went round, and round again. I’m sure I saw a dozen or more streets twice over – at least. Not only could I not find the wretched place…. Not only was I late… Not only did I arrive hot and shall we say, ‘glowing’, from being forced to run the last few hundred yards with a laptop slung over my shoulder… I left THE FILE back at the hotel. So my presentation wasn’t particularly professional – I bluffed a bit and I fluffed a bit. I pretended to scrutinise completely irrelevant documents (thank goodness for the language difference). And I just about got away with it.

The whole thing had been exhausting, and I wasn’t going home til the next day. Well, at least I could grab myself a decent meal on expenses. I settled at a table in the hotel restaurant (I couldn’t trust myself to actually go outside again) but the menu was in Spanish - no pictures – and I was a bit stumped. I recognised the word ‘paella’ but that was about it, and I didn’t fancy that. There was this guy on the next table and I guess he realised I was struggling, as he asked if he could help. He explained the menu and then ordered my choices. So we got talking, and that’s nice in a hotel restaurant where almost everybody is eating alone and trying to pretend they’re OK about it. We polished off a couple of bottles of a very nice Riocha – his recommendation – and I admit it got the better of me. I sloped off to bed with a bit of a head.

My friend had suggested we share a taxi to the airport the next day but my bit of a head had turned into a real pounder so when he called my room in the morning, I made him go on, on his own. I felt a bit guilty as he’d been such good company the evening before, but I just couldn’t cope. I snatched myself an extra 20 minutes in bed but I think you could say I have lived to regret it. From that moment on, it was all a bit of a rush, to put it mildly. A quick shower, fling my gear into the case, don’t forget the laptop under the bed (isn’t that where everybody hides it?), and make a dash for the taxi rank. And I really had to run. I flew into the first cab that arrived, almost (almost) pushing this other couple out of the way as I threw my case into the back.

Perhaps it was the three courses last night. Perhaps it was the last few months of over-indulgence. I don’t know. But my suit was feeling just a little tighter that morning, and as I pushed and shoved and stretched, it just gave way. Yep. Those pants ripped from front to back – there wasn’t a stitch left holding them together. You’re getting the idea now, aren’t you? Mortal embarrassment.

I settled in the back of the cab and I already knew I had a problem… I could actually feel the chill of the morning air between my legs. I checked out the damage under cover of my coat – it was bad. Maybe even arrestable.

I had no choice, I had to change my pants – and fast. I quickly removed my only other pair from the case in the check-in queue, carefully covering my modesty with my coat. With the boarding-now announcement ringing in my ears, I made a dash for the loo and whipped off my tattered trousers. It was about then that I realised I was surrounded not by men, but by a bemused gaggle of middle-aged ladies. They must have seen my shock (imagine!), and I gathered from their gesticulations that in my haste, I’d run into the ladies, and not the gents.

I’m sure they’d seen it all before, so I pressed on, zipped up and legged it for the gate – I made it just in time. My head was still pounding and I was beginning to feel just a little queasy. I know it’s a quick flight from Madrid, but I thought a bite or two of plastic food might quell my stomach, so I opted for the full tray. It’s always unrecognisable – it’s food, Jim, but not as we know it - but the way I was feeling, I didn’t care.

I pulled the plastic off the meat-substance (I’m guessing chicken), picked up a sachet of sauce-with-no-name and ripped the corner off. But you already known I was having a clumsy day – and I wasn’t quick enough to stop a big blob of sauce from flying out of the sachet and landing square on the cheek of the passenger in the aisle seat beside me. He was asleep, but how it didn’t disturb him, I don’t know. Should I wake him? Should I heck. It was dribbling a bit, but I figured it would dry and then, well, if I’d finished my food before he woke up, he’d never know it was me.

The guy in the window seat, who had been pretending to ignore me up until now, suddenly decided he wanted to stretch his legs. I wasn’t sure he’d seen the incident with the sauce, but the piece of chicken sitting in Mr Aisle Seat’s lap was unavoidable – and I had to stop him moving because then we’d have to wake Mr Aisle Seat up and with my tray still in front of me, I’d be in trouble. So I kicked off a conversation. I asked him whether he was travelling on business or for pleasure – it’s usually a good opener unless the person in question is in a suit, - then it’s just a stupid question. I was puzzled when he said ‘both’, until he explained… He worked in customs clearance and travelled all the time, criss-crossing the world building business and making contacts – but he really enjoyed his world. He said that meeting new people, entertaining and being entertained in different countries, different cultures – he couldn’t imagine a more pleasurable way of earning his living. The only downside was that he didn’t seem to spend quite enough time at home.

I was trying to keep him in his seat, and since he seemed so enthusiastic about his work life, I asked him more. I didn’t know much – anything - about customs clearance and I figured it would occupy a few minutes, maybe even until we landed, if I was lucky. But as I listened, I learned, and as I calmed down and stopped worrying about Mr Aisle Seat with the chicken in his lap and the splurge of sauce down his cheek, I picked up a few pointers and actually made a very worthwhile contact.

When we landed, we exchanged cards – his company, Customs Clearance Ltd, was only a few miles from the airport and he was heading for work. And when Mr Aisle Seat finally shifted, that errant lump of chicken fell to the floor and he didn’t even notice it. I chickened out, you could say - somebody else would have to alert him to the mucky stain on his trousers and the sticky sauce on his cheek.