The Windmills and the Triumvirate

My white office door has a brick-red name plate which reads - “Spillman, Dieter, Guha”. The first a Nordic, the second a German, and finally I, complete the heterogeneous triumvirate.
 
Doesn’t it sound like an odd little law firm ‘M/s Spillman, Dieter, Guha’?
 
Anyways, the office block is at the end of the Hydro Plant, and over looks the hills. This plant produces Aluminum stuff for a variety of customers, Cola cans for Coke, inner side foil for milk cartons, automotive parts for Mercedes, BMW and Volvo and little rectangular aluminum food containers for one Bangladesh Biman.
 
My office is this large room, with three desks. The one by the door is occupied by a Materials Management Consultant, the German Dieter, he the one of the “funky look”. Odd shaped eye-glasses, flaxen colored suits and perpetual stubble. He is picked up every evening by this blonde, who drives a single-door black Jaguar Convertible. They are quite a number, the car and her I mean.
 
By the window, at two ends of this room are Spillman and myself. Spillman is an auditor, but looks more like a helpless little house dog. He has a cold and is looking miserable, but is waiting with baited breath for his vacation starting Friday, a fact he incants every hour.
 
And finally me, writing this blog from a slightly dated lap top with a German keypad. Quite a challenge it posed initially. Beyond the window is this wide hillock, in shades of green. The dark somber green becomes more vibrant and leafy as it reaches the top. The hillock is dotted with windmills, which are disturbingly still at the moment. Am sure it doesn’t power the Plant or my little laptop.
 
I am waiting for Christian Sielaff, the only German here who can speak in fluent English without having to overtly tax his gray cells or facial muscles, to holler out to me for lunch.
 
The canteen is at the other end plant, a walk of a kilometer at least. Its rather neat and pretty cheap, I had pasta for lunch yesterday with pickled cucumbers and lettuce. I go with Christian not only because he is rather nice company, but also because he painstakingly translates the canteen menu card which is entirely in Deutsch. One afternoon when I did have to go to the canteen solo, with a prayer at my lip I randomly pointed at something on the menu card, hoping at least that it is edible.

Labels: Travel