I was in Korea, the democratic, non-nuclear one to the South, last week for a business trip. The air was crisp, flowers were in full bloom, the rolling hills were clothed in green and it could mean only one thing: swine flu alert. Nearby Japan was reporting increasing cases of the virus and as I arrived, the airport was full of face masks and all passengers were being screened for body temperature. I passed through the temperature check, cleared immigration and was out of the airport in good time. Later that afternoon, I was to hold meetings with our customers.
We had the meeting scheduled for 4pm. Since our office is a 5-minute ride away from their fab, we left at 3:45, allowing ourselves 10 minutes to find a parking spot. We got there, parked and were at the reception by 3:55, bright and dapper. That was when our plan went pear-shaped. I'm not sure what gave it away, but the smiling receptionist pointed out, very politely, that I was from abroad and all foreign visitors were required to get a health clearance on account of the swine flu. My Korean colleagues were clearly surprised at this unexpected announcement. A brief exchange ensued, which I learned, courtesy a later translation, was that I am from Singapore, a normal, healthy, swine-flu-free nation Which meant that I was also normal, healthy and flu-free. And it was politely but firmly rubbished.
The clinic that could issue this clearance was a 5 minute ride away. So we piled into the car and drove to said clinic. After a short wait it was my turn and the receptionist inserted one of these new-age thermometers into my left ear canal. The reading was 37.7. I'm from India which means that the metric system and the celsius scale of temperature run in my veins. Yet, when it came to body temperature, I am somehow more familiar with the Fahrenheit scale. Yet, from the deeper recesses of my brain, I knew that the regular body temperature should be 36.x, or thereabouts, and mine could be considered above normal. It was probably because of a combination of the overnight flight, the sleeplessness and the anxiety ahead of facing an unreasonable customer, although I was really feeling fine. The nurse tried my other ear. Either some employee in the thermometer manufacturing plant had taken his job seriously or I was thermally well balanced. The instrument gave out a reading of 37.7C from my right ear too. The nurse, bless her soul, was scientific in her methods, acutely aware of the role that sample size played in scientific experiments. Apparently, the folks upstairs haven't broken the Marie Curie mold yet, I suppose. For the third sample, she brought out the ultimate insturment: the mercury in glass thermometer. Holding it in her left hand, she approached me. By this time, she was painfully aware of my Korean language skills and decided that actions bore faster results than her words or their translations. In one fluid move she loosened my tie, unbuttoned my shirt, parted my vest and stuck it under my left armpit and asked me to remain this way for 10 minutes. Rigorous scientific training. I spent the next 600 seconds admiring an ancient functional clock that was reading 4:30 (Meeting time was 4:00), using the self-operated vision testing instrument, and also the self-operated BP apparatus. The old faithful read 37.7C and that meant a visit to the doctor for further steps. She hurriedly noted down the readings and pointed me to the doctor. While all this was unfolding, my senior Korean colleague, Mr. K, was increasingly getting restless and was talking on the phone in reverential tones and was bowing often and fully: an unhappy customer.
While I was waiting, thermometer-in-armpit, there was one room in and out which was a steady procession of foreigners. The ones going in wore creased foreheads while the ones emerging sported broad smiles. No points for guessing that that was where I was headed to. Before long, it was my turn to face the oracle. Mr. K insisted on accompanying me, which proved to be a boon. The doctor, a middle aged lady, as proficient in English as I was in Korean, glanced at the readings and had an animated discussion with my colleague who was frantically waving his hands and shaking his head. She then focussed her attention on me and asked haltingly, "How are you feeling?". All through this episode, if you had paid attention, I had done very little by way of talking. At various points, I had lent my ear to the nurse, not for her words but for her thermometer, but never had to open my mouth, not even for the thermometer. So when I had to respond to the doctor's question, I felt the urge to clear my throat to say all of "I'm doing fine." The clearing the throat part led to a fresh round of animated dilaog between colleague and doctor during which the former cast a quick glance at me, which, in English, could have meant "Thank you, you <insert your chosen curse word here>" The doctor finally signed the clearance certificate rather reluctantly at 4:50, bringing my secret wish for a week long quarantine in some beach/hill resort crashing to the ground. I chose not to ask Mr.K for details of his exchanges with the doctor.
The ride back to the fab, during which 3G forces acted on our necks, was mostly silent. We walked in to the conference room a full hour behind schedule. As the customers instinctively drew away from me in fear by pushing back in their chairs, Mr. K proudly waved the certificate and announced that I was indeed healthy. Thus relieved, they proceeded to thwack us with their unreasonable demands.
No comments:
Post a Comment