Then he became the button man. That was his name for it. Quickly elevated to G4 or G3 status and assigned to military intelligence, he carried a bag around and was always no further than 10 feet behind President Nixon. I guess they thought that if a war broke out, they wanted a smart guy throwing switches.
Because of this story and others like it (he missed the moon landing, because he was on the aircraft carrier with the President and didn't get to see it) I have always wanted to see Russia. I've always wanted to know what the big deal was.
Since my father would't let me join the military, though he was a two-tour vet, I had always wished to travel there and do business or just live, seeing beneath the dark and minor tones that Russia seemed to call to mind.
So when my company offered me a position that meant moving from the USA to Russia, I didn't stand around. I had my hand up and my bag packed before anyone knew what was going on. There was more to going than just going, though, and I had to slow down and think about how to get there.
Asking around (I had a budget and a deadline but no help from headquarters), I picked an international moving company that offered special packages moving people from the USA to Russia. This international moving company was right down the road and very easily accessible to me. I was lucky. They were professional, efficient and, after a while, even likable.
My rep took me through the process and made sure I understood it. There were taxes and duties to pay on my stuff. I said this stuff? He nodded emphatically and moved on. There was packing to do and a van to hire to get my junk from point A to B and then to my residence. I did have a residence, right, said the international moving company rep, sternly. Yes, that was one thing that I had definite info on, the flight and the flat.
From then on it was just filling out forms, updating my passport, getting an exam, buying the appropriate insurance, writing check after check, and finally I stood at the gate of the international moving company dock, receipt in hand and nothing but a week worth of underwear in my valise. My stuff, in eight mammoth boxes, was going ahead of me and would probably arrive a tad behind me.
Good bye. Or should I say, ``Dos svidaniya``.
You want me to move where? I yelled at my boss. Ro-man-i-a, he repeated, like I had to read his lips or something. See, here's the thing. I've always lived in the USA. My whole life is here. I am an American, through and through. I've never visited another country let alone ever thought about moving to one.
I hope you mean Romania, USA, I said. Yeah, that must be it. There's some city named Romania in the States. I was just about to heave a sigh of relief when I noticed him smile and shake his head.
Romania-across-the-ocean-Romania, he said. We're opening a branch there and the board wants you to head it up. He smiled like a Cheshire cat and smacked me on the back.
Oh my God! Where the heck is Romania anyway? I rushed to my computer and Googled a map of Romania. I found the small country bordered by Bulgaria on the south, Serbia and Hungary on the west the Ukraine on the north and the Black Sea on the east.
While you're at it, Google international moving company, my boss said. You'll need one to move you. I've heard they're very helpful.
HELPFUL, HELPFUL? I wanted to shout. I needed more than help to pull this off! How about a scientist that could clone me...one 'me' to go to Romania and be the big-shot boss, and one 'me' to stay here with my little black book, my cool condo and sports car! Could I even move my car over there?
So many questions, so little time! He wanted me there in a month. I found a list of international moving companies and chose the one with the best rating on the Better Business Bureau. The international moving company agent assured me they could move my car over there, so that made me feel a bit better. She even put me in touch with a Real Estate Agent. I had my secretary sort all that out. She knows my taste.
Having set the wheels in motion and arriving at a date in two short weeks when the international moving company would simply come and pack up my life into an overseas container, I set about trying to find out as much as I could about Romania.
Okay, Romania capital - Bucharest. Languages: Romanian, Hungarian, and German. None of which would help me much. I had taken in high school, German lessons. I think that's about it. Hopefully, I'd have interpreters! Let's see the currency; Leu.
Black Sea resorts, hiking and skiing in the Carpathian Mountains, this was starting to look much more promising. Oh, and the Transylvania region of Count Dracula legend. This was definitely shaping up!
I think I am beginning to see this might not be so bad. At least I know who to call my international moving company, if I can't stand it and want to move back. Piece of cake! Romania, are you ready for m
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