It’s a warm Friday evening in Bangkok. The last evening the Three Musketeers will spend together. For the occasion, our team is complemented by one friendly ghost. The orange juice and lemonade comes with added salt instead of sugar. All of it adds to the alienation of this evening. Thai food, but please no lemongrass…
In my pocket, a pleasant vibration. I dig out the S&P company phone and read: “There you go. I mailed her your contact info. Not sure if she can pay all of it at once.”
No sender name, just an unknown mobile number in the Netherlands. Funny. Apparently, it’s possible to send an obviously important SMS to the wrong number. I pass the phone around for the Musketeers and the ghost to read. We all wonder what thrilling story could be behind this message involving money and payment. The drinks are brought for the second time, now with sugar instead of salt. I decide I cannot leave the Mystery Man’s efforts unanswered. That would be rude. With an evil grin on my
Smiles all around the table, and the answer comes with lightning speed: “Eh? Did I miss something ?”
I answer: “Maybe….”
Dinner is served, chopsticks are rattling. There is no answer for a long time on the phone that by now is lying in the middle of our table, everybody anxiously awaiting its screen to light up.
I decide we should up the ante a bit and write: “Am I talking to the wrong guy? Louie ?”
That helps. Within the minute the reply comes in: “I don’t know, when did you blackmail Rianne’s parents ???”
Aha. One of the main players in this thriller is called Rianne. That helps. We can work with this: “Oh, is that what she’s called?
Laughter at our table in Bangkok. Not so on the other end of this conversation. With all capitals, he/she replies: “WHAT DO YOU MEAN? MY PARENTS !”
Now I’m confused. Rianne? Parents? Who are we talking about now? The level of
The phone immediately rings. An incoming call from the same number. I don’t feel like a discussion at 5 euro per minute and cancel the call. This bloody
Oops. Now it’s my turn to startle a bit: ‘Rep’ is no doubt short for Repko, one of the office guys. Maybe he gave out this number on his latest trip abroad. I wonder if I’ve done irreparable damage with my silly behavior. This is gonna be fun. Although
I do find it a bit inappropriate to use ‘Asshole’ and ‘Blonde Tart’ and then in the same message reprimand me for bad language. That’s like passing someone on the emergency lane to tell him he’s an idiot for not wearing a seatbelt. But I’m not an unreasonable man, so I offer an explanation: “Haha. This is Repko’s company phone. I’m in Bangkok now for a survey mission. Check your number. Greets, Hans”
It was an enjoyable SMS exchange that perfectly enhanced this, our Last Supper. Later after returning back to Holland, I found out that Repko had to talk the quills off a porcupine to convince Rianne that he had not become involved with blackmailing Thai criminals and that he would never send bloodthirsty Rottweilers to cash money owed.
I sincerely hope this will all be straightened out. One day…