Yes, It Is The Weekend...

Too many issues that should have been resolved already are still hanging in the air, some by a thread, and my mind is distracted to the point of having to rewrite 2 out of 3 words because of hitting the wrong keys. Harrumph!! Well, harrumph some more… This entry was started yesterday afternoon (seems there is a trend of this lately) and eventually put to rest; there were better things to do. Yet today, after finishing the Good Samaritan paragraph, the whole thing went into a different and really unexpected tangent…

Somewhere it is declared that in order to be able to write, a potential “author” has to be able to put on paper issues which may be considered personal, for all to see; in these posts some personal stuff has come out from time to time; all the remembrances are definitely personal from a time when, despite the circumstances, life was still simpler than today.  What else to talk about? Two divorces and three marriages? Nah, this is becoming much too common within today’s lifestyle. Travels? Already have, and there is much more to come from those memory vaults…

Left everything behind for a while and went to meet with a client, maybe this outing was what I needed to get out of the funk… well, it worked… partially, anyway. However, on the plus side, I was witness to a moment which helped restore a little of faith in humans. I went to have a cup of coffee (no, not that big “Bucks” one but the other, the Dunkin’ one) after I saw the client and, as I was parking, a young man was getting out of his car and so was someone else, parked on the next spot. The second person, as he was coming around both cars, bent down to pick something up and he proceeded to follow the young man; in fact, all of us were going to the same place.

We all went in and the second person approached the younger man. Most of us live in such a defensive mode most of the time that we assume that when someone comes to us on the streets, is because he/she must want something. Such was the reaction of the younger man; not spoken, but “body language” wise. The older man said to him –“I think you dropped something outside” The young man, somewhat disconcerted responded –“what do you mean?” then, the first guy shows a $20 bill he had in his hand… -“perhaps this”. The young man, now flustered, put his hand into his pocket and when it came up empty, he was totally in shock. -_”My God, that’s all the money I have till the weekend”… He couldn’t thank the Good Samaritan enough and I couldn’t help but thinking that there are a few good ones left around. This definitely brought a smile to my, and everyone’s face and did much to lighten my mood.

About 13 years ago, 1 year into an still ongoing disaster chapter of my life which will eventually find its way (at least parts…) into these posts, I met an Egyptian fellow, we’ll call him Dr. Shatiff (obviously not his real name) who lived in Brazil  but who was in Zurich at the time (we found out later on he was not exactly welcome in his own country) trying to sell himself unto a transaction; any transaction which came close enough for him and his cronies, a couple of Brazilian fellows who called themselves attorneys and/or notaries, to insinuate themselves into.

The Old Quarters

Why is he a part of these memories? Well, besides being quite a character, he ended up in a transaction where my interests lay and I was forced to deal with he and his cronies on a daily basis. Dr. Shatiff’s forte was driving the other party unto a frenzied state; then his terms would not seem so crazy. My original partner in this particular transaction and the responsible party for my being in Zurich at the time was an Argentinean, himself partner with another, older Argentinean. The other middlemen running around were an assortment of folks, to include a couple of  self named “sheiks” and many who, not to be outdone, assumed the mantle of being a part of the “Royal House” (never did identify the specific house or “royalty”). I was fairly new at this game in those days; otherwise this assortment would have come across for what they were: a bunch of clowns who lived in never-never land, always on the lookout for the possibility to get into someone else’s transaction, just in case it turned out to be real and doable.

Limmat river, cuts through Zurich

A giveaway to their perennially penniless situation was the then low level hotel in which they all stayed as a flock, cramming 3/4 to a room. Zurich is a hotbed of activity for these international transactions today and so it was then as well. Every Tom, Dick and Harriet (and Rafael) who thought he/she had a track into a transaction involving International currency, gold, bank documents, and such, ended up in Zurich. Why? Because in real life, these transactions did and do take place commonly in this city and within its banking system. What no one seemed to (want to) understand was that the Swiss bankers did not really need any of us trying to hone into their business so, it was “open season” whenever anyone had an apparently real connection to a transaction. As was my case at that moment.

Banhoffstrasse... Shopping and Banking Center

This local banking circumstance made it possible for many who had nothing but who, by simply showing up and coming up with some obscure documents, could possibly slide into a bona-fide transaction as facilitator or some such. In doing so, that person could make a very interesting amount of commission if indeed the transaction was able to be completed. This was an upside down world, but a world where one had to function nonetheless if the goal was to complete one of these “deals”. I have learned much and differently over the years; for example, that being in Europe is not a must, but knowing the right parties certainly is.

I was staying at a hotel which was some 4 blocks north of the central trolley stop (the old quarters, where the other hotel was, being on the south side) and, as such, I was somewhat removed from these characters. The daily routine was comprised of meetings between parties and many of these meetings were truly without reason, except to lend credence to their need for being in Zurich. Everyone had a veil of total secrecy over whatever it was he/she/they were in the process of doing… but, everything was “huge”… anyone you spoke with was involved with at least 2-3 principals, 2-3 attorneys and bank officers galore… By having established this ridiculous number of people who were supposedly involved in any given transaction, there was always the available excuse that one of that bunch was either away, sick, on vacation, in the middle of another “huge”(of course) transaction, or just plain too busy, therefore unable to work on his/her “deal” at the moment. The sad reality was that in most cases, it would turn out to be that they had nothing; they simply had to appear to have something, or their support funds would dry out.  

The ever present trolley car

All of the above should have been a dead giveaway to those of us who had just started to scruff our shoes walking this very treacherous road. 9.5 out of every ten people were out to “score” with someone; they had none of the contacts or structures they professed to have, their reach being as long as their arm and nothing more. Middle Eastern folks from different emirates and or sheikdoms, Europeans (mostly from the Balkans), South Americans, Australians and probably even a couple of Australopithecus thrown in for good measure… it was a mix and match bunch of desperate people, searching for that elusive one time chance to get a life changing reward. Dr. Shatiff was just one more of them and, as such, the support documents he would quickly flash across anyone who might be a possible target would not stand close inspection. On such, these documents showed they had been issued anywhere from 6-8 years prior and would hold little value at then present time. Yet, he did know a couple of important people in the medium and, because of this we found ourselves dealing with him and his Brazilian cohorts.

Enough for now… more at a later post…

Be well… Be Back!!