Open Writing

Returning to the Middle East, I was posted to the Tripoli Personnel Office. Tripoli was always a popular posting as all recreational facilities were available — cinemas, the IPC club, sailing, swimming in the warm Mediterranean, a quick trip down to Beirut for shopping, or a weekend of dancing, wine and romance, with a certain beautiful girl, in the mountains above Beirut at such places as Aley, or Bhamdoun. In the office we worked from 7am to 2pm, after which my time was at my disposal. I enjoyed it; every minute. But It was not long before I distinguished myself again. The Chief called me in.

"We've just had the Police in about your activities, my boy; all about those twenty housemaids you employed for the new bachelors' mess. How did you find them?"

"Excellent quality. They were clean, smiling pleasantly, all able to speak a little English and very polite: ideal really. Why? What's wrong?"

The Chief grinned. 'There's no doubt about you young bloods. Well, the Police have checked up on them and they are all prostitutes except one of them. What do you say to that?"

"If that's the only problem," I replied, as a rather rare flash of genius smote me, "The solution is easy. You say, 'one of them is not a prostitute'; well then, the answer is to sack her.

As Whitey, in the Gang, would have said, ' Aw hell! Let th' boys enjoy themselves'."

Alas, my counsel did not prevail; they were discharged and we took on another nineteen, to the dismay of my colleagues when the whole story came out, and many were the ribald remarks that I received from them until, mercifully, it died down.

Plans were announced for another pipeline, this time a 30 inch with its terminal tank farm to be at Banias, on the Syrian coast below the port of Lattakia. Banias was then a small fishing village and the Chief sent me there to set up a Personnel Office. Once more I was back in familiar surroundings; a tent as an office, which I set up on the site where the terminal was to be built, about a mile from Banias. It was now that I noticed the first zephyr of change arriving. I was told that I was no longer allowed to engage applicants in my office, as had always been the case, but from now on I would have to apply to the Government Employment Office that had been established in Banias especially for this purpose, informing them of the vacancies available.

Unfortunately, the officials knew nothing about personnel procedures, selection interviews and aptitude techniques. Their office was a hotbed of bribery, nepotism and favouritism.The applicants we sought were not interviewed before being sent to me, consequently, when sent for a trade test they failed. Back they went to the Government Employment Office, complaining bitterly; all the sons, cousins, and nephews of the local important citizens, which incurred their wrath. Seeing their favourites returning empty-handed, they soon stoked up the rumour that the only way to obtain work in the IPC was to bribe me. The rumour grew. Inspite of this, I succeeded in building good relations with the Authorities.

Although my Personnel tent and the Surveyor's pegs were the first evidence of activity in the industrial site, before long the construction was everywhere; British engineers were to be seen in all directions; trucks were arriving, stores unloaded, buildings starting to take shape, and the sleepy Banias main street became a busy road with the traffic. I was even consulted about the design of the Personnel Office to be built, my only addition being the installation of a back door from which a quick escape could be made if desired.