isham research
People often accuse the Germans of lacking a sense of humour. It's not true.
One day in the early 1980s we were running a presentation roadshow - a.k.a. a "dog and pony show" - around Germany. Muggins - myself - was the only person with an estate car (wagon) and so it was Muggins who got to cart the four slide projectors, dissolve unit, overhead projector, handouts, etc., about.
It was Tuesday, so it must have been Karlsruhe. The Hilton chain had just opened a brand new hotel and we'd got a good rate for being the very first to hire their new conference centre. It was HOT and the drive from Frankfurt was baking. No air-conditioning in German company cars - at least not at my grade.
I turned up at the Hilton dressed in what the Germans call latten (Jesus boots), short shorts, and an old T-shirt. Bearded, sweaty and tired. I parked in the underground garage and went up to Reception to borrow a porter's barrow to shift the stuff. Our insurance didn't allow non-employees to touch some of the stuff. I got it all into the conference room, checked in, and headed for the lift.
The Maitre d' stopped me. "As you know, sir, this is our first event in this new hotel and we're still shaking everything down. We would appreciate it if you'd dine in the restaurant at our expense so we can check everything out live. There are six of you, are there not?"
I said fine, but I needed to shower, clean up and change into business attire. The relief on his face was obvious.
I went down about an hour later to find my colleagues in the restaurant at a table set for six with all seats occupied. I raised an eyebrow at the Maitre d' and he fetched another chair, moved a few people about, and got me sat at the table. The meal was about seven courses - gazpacho, ravioli a la panna, Dover sole, steak, etc., finished of with strawberries in pepper sauce. Quite excellent. I was surprised to see one of our salesmen from Düsseldorf at the table - a man called Hederer - who wasn't on the list.
When the meal ended, the local salesman - a man called Reiner Ising - stood up and went over to the Maitre d'. He came back with the usual Hilton-style bill in a plastic folder. "Right. It's DM701.60 - I want a hundred from each of you and I'll pay the DM1.60."
At 2007 rates, that's around $100 each. In my case, it would go on expenses, but a couple of the guys around the table weren't eligible and had to pay out of their own pocket.
"Right," said Reiner, "it's a big day tomorrow and you all have to get some sleep, so no drinking into the small hours. Down to the bar, I'll put some money behind the counter and when that's gone, it's bedtime."
We got to the bar, and I buttonholed Reiner. "I thought that meal was supposed to be free."
"Oh, it was. Here's your DM100 back. I've given everyone else's theirs back too, except Hederer. We're drinking his."
And I don't think anyone ever told him.