A Musing Time
Rationale
Alone with my thoughts once more, I began to think deeply about the years since I'd had my operation.
I'd been on the way to becoming a millionaire by forty. Yet here I was at the age of forty two, destitute
in the true sense of the word. Sure I could have sold my car. Sure there was still the Porsche sitting in Los Angeles. Sure I
owned a computer which I could sell. There were other things too, but it wasn't the point. It was the first time since I'd started work at the age of sixteen,
that I couldn't dip my hand into my pocket and come up with money. Strangely enough, it wasn't an unpleasant feeling.
I decided it had all happened for a good reason. It was my destiny if you like. I was meant to learn from these experiences, to what end I didn't know.
My health was now good, as long as the trusted injections kept coming and I watched my stress levels. Really, there was nothing to fear any more.
I felt really good, despite the dire circumstances surrounding my life. Shit had definitely happened once more, but it simply didn't matter.
It did upset me when vandals slashed my car roof on the second day at the hostel
and stole the cassette machine.
But then what could I expect? This was hot IRA country.
I began to understand where they got their support from
and how the hatred for the Brits had been nurtured in the minds of down and outs in Dublin.
These guys had nothing to lose. No future, no optimism, only hatred.
I met a few whilst I was there, but fortunately didn't upset them. They'd go off to the Dublin mountains at weekends to play soldier.
Some would tell me of the hidden weapon stashes on the Howth peninsula.
One even boasted of being a hit man. I made sure he liked me. Scary it was. I knew I couldn't stay forever.
The Olive Branch
The letter arrived from Internet Eireann, written by Steve, but probably dictated by Mary. It contained a total denial of my claim of course.
Plans were made for me to obtain legal aid. In the mean time, I slipped into their offices once more, to use my computer,
and told the staff where I was living. That night, as I lay reading in my squalid room, I was summoned to the front office. There was a phone call for me.
It was Mary. Much to my amazement, she invited me to their house for talks to resolve our dispute. She indicated they were prepared to have me working at Internet Eireann.
Irrespective of my deep mistrust for her, there was no way I was going to turn this down.
Getting out of the hostel had become a real priority. I met them the next day at their farmhouse, outside the tiny village of Celbridge.
They made the derisory offer of
employing me on a trial basis to begin with, and giving me a directorship after I proved myself to them.
What the hell, I wasn't going to argue the point. I knew they had no money
to repay me. I knew also, the best chance I had of escaping the hell hole hostel I found myself in, was to accept their "offer".
It was decided that I would live at the offices and I would
start work the following morning.
Sublime To the Ridiculous
In I went the following day, much to the surprise of the staff. They called Mary first, to make sure the police weren't coming,
before welcoming me and setting up my computer for the Internet. Then I began to assess the
task in front of me. First, all the subscribers were up in arms. Second, the system was terribly unreliable. Third, there weren't enough modems.
Fourth, no-one had sent out bills for five months and creditors were baying for money.
It was a complete shambles in short. Well, I just love a challenge and had arrived in the right place.
Time to take the bull by the horns and get this company turned round. After all, it was my best hope of getting my money back.
I worked for an average of sixteen hours a day, pausing only to eat and sleep on the floor of an adjacent office.
My only problem was the alarm system, which would get turned on by someone leaving the six story building late at night.
Inevitably I would wake at about five in the morning with the sound of bells in my ears.
The subtle movements made in my sleep, setting off the sensor in the room. A mad scramble to turn off the alarm ensued. Involving stumbling for a light switch, before rushing out of my room and up to the top of
the stairs, before keying in the code. A run of about sixty yards. Then I had to phone the alarm people to call off the emergency response guy. I never got back to sleep after those incidents,
preferring instead to get to work. Bills were sent out, creditors mollified or at least delayed. Customers were sweet talked into submissive good humour.
Free publicity was obtained via the Internet hungry Irish press. Training programmes were set up and new clients attracted as I strove to get the business viable.
The people of Ireland were in the midst
of a drive to bring the country up to date. Money was flying in from everywhere to fund the leap into cyberspace. My job was to get as large a slice of the action as I could,
without spending any money. Slowly, people began to join us again. Confidence in our service grew.
Morale was high in the office as my enthusiasm caught on. Debts were still piling up, although not as quickly. We were catching up.
But at the bottom of it all, I had the nagging feeling that this wasn't going to last long. As usual, I was dead right ! The roller coaster
of life I'd been on for the past six years was about to lurch again.