True Blue Navigator

My colleague and I get along well enough on a day-to-day level, but I do not know how well we will survive today’s road trip to Frankfurt to visit a potential new customer. Our mission, now that we’ve accepted it, is to hustle up a big contract for a product we developed, which we are having difficulties getting on the market. The thought of the up-an-coming presentation is not as daunting as spending numerous hours alone with this fellow in a car.

Arne is a talker: a rather arrogant talker at that. It doesn’t matter if he is in a room with a hundred people or one person, he’s always at helm. Over the last years, I’ve discovered that he is one of those people who live under the (illusion) impression that his word is law. Granted, Arne is rather charismatic, but he tends to step on the toes of people sensitivities by dismissing their opinions and ignoring their right to participate in the conversation as equal partners.

This means, at the office, I keep my personal opinions on political/family/social/economical matters to myself. Where I lean to the left, Arne leans to the (far) right. Where I prefer taking the direct path to any goal, Arne travels long and convoluted routes. The idea of sitting alone in a car with him the whole morning long, making conversation, makes me nervous.

Our trip gets off to an auspicious start. Road construction just outside of the city limits necessitates finding another route. There are various detour signs, but Arne pointedly ignores them. He deems the suggested routes as tedious and slow. Instead, he chooses to venture out on his own. I think he is crazy. Only an idiot would ignore the carefully laid out detour signs.

Much to my surprise, he manages to bring us back on our intended route further down the way. Even more surprising, the traffic is flowing again.

I compliment him on his success. Instead of accepting the compliment gracefully, he dismisses it, saying that only morons can’t navigate. Little does he know that sitting right there beside him is one of those morons. I point out that perhaps, even if everyone can navigate to some degree, a true blue navigator is rare and should be treasured as much as a musician with true pitch or a translator who speaks many languages.

He poohoos this remark as being ridiculous. I find it ridiculous that he finds it ridiculous. I know for a fact, since I am a living example, that there are people who cannot navigate themselves out of a tunnel.

I once read an article in the newspaper that stated, 80% of all holiday accidents occur within a ten-mile radius of your home. People travel thousands and thousands of miles during their vacation without incident, only to get involved in an accident right before their doorstep. The article stated this was due to the fact that people let down their guard and attention close to home.

Which might be true for some, but I know of another phenomena that plays a roll. What happens is the following… say I am travelling to some far off place to visit a friend. This usually entails travelling a long distance by plane or train.

It doesn’t matter whether flights are delayed, or connections are missed, I arrive at the airport or train terminal sometime, or somehow. It is now, in that infamous ten-mile radius of my goal, the chances of my losing my way increases to almost 99%.

It doesn’t matter whether I’ve visited the friend numerous times in the past, am following a map, or trying to decipher the detailed well-written instructions sent by my friends, I get lost. All the roads I’m on appear familiar. All left turns eventually turn right. I misjudge distances. Public monuments and important tourist sites somehow vanish temporarily from their original locations. It is crazy. Somewhere in that last ten-mile radius, I always get lost.

My good friends know this and kindly come and pick me up at the airport or train station. They don’t quite understand how I get lost, but they have ceased asking.

All of this goes through my head, listening to colleague pontificate about how silly people are who have to rely on GPS or Google Maps. Instinctively, I sense we should get off this topic soon, before smoke starts coming out of my ears. I gently change the topic.

I do what I often do in tense situations I start asking questions. None of this “Look in the sky, a bird” type of questions, but good intelligent questions that steer us away from topics where, at best, we can only agree-to-disagree.

In this case, I ask about the company we are about to visit, what strategy should we take during our meeting, his past experiences with them, his future plans. And while Arne weaves in and out of the streets, I weave in and out of conversation. At one point, I realise that I am a good navigator. A true blue navigator of words and ideas. Who would have guessed?