Ma'rouf 10/11

In big corporate organizations that follow very strictly and politely globalization rules, employees at low levels come and go pretty frequently.

Now don’t get fooled by neither the title nor the introduction of this piece, as it will not touch on any globalization-related issue and it’s not even remotely related to terrorism.

And incase you are hastening to finish your 1-percent-worth school homework, preparing to do some serious ass kissing for you university prof. to give you that 0.005 mark that would change your grade from a C to a C+, or even getting ready to drive your manager’s cute little 25-year-old son to the airport, I would like to tell you this from now: this article is only about a tea boy.

Ma’rouf his name is. He’s the usual dark Indian “sadeeg” that you could see working in any gulf (GCC) country for as low as 600 Riyals a month (approx. US $160). Now I don’t usually like to write anything that sounds like Greek tragedies, firstly because I am not Greek and secondly because I don’t like tragedies very much. But I find the story of Ma’rouf to be particularly intriguing because it contains in its details what could evolve to be the foundations of a new Arabic theatrical school: Arab tragedy.

Ma’rouf was fired last week for no apparent reason, some say that it’s because he’s not very good at making coffee, some say he comes 2 minutes late for work, but most people over here seem to believe that he was caught steeling sugar cubes and coffee beans by hiding them in his pocket before he left the scene everyday using the back door. I, on the other hand, decided to do my own investigation into the issue to find out what the real reason behind firing Ma’rouf was. I felt like I owe this thing to this “sadeeg”, after all he used to make me a very delicious hot cup of Turkish coffee every morning, always on time, always exquisite.

As I wanted the truth and nothing but the truth, I decided to start my mission by visiting the human resource division at our company. One fact about human resource divisions in GCC companies: the sole purpose of this division, it seems, is to make the life of every single employee in the company as miserable as hell. As if enduring living in a desert-like, 40 C°, city where you’re constantly treated like a 10^th degree citizen, who doesn’t enjoy even the simplest forms of civil rights, wasn’t enough.

After visiting the HR department 7 times and being “warmly” greeted every time by the secretary who would inform me that the person responsible for Ma’rouf’s case isn’t in the office, and that no one knows where he is. I was ironically able to find that person in the prayer room. I was informed then that Ma’rouf’s residency paper (kinda like a work-permit) had expired and because the person from the HR department responsible for renewing the residency didn’t pay attention to the matter on time, Ma’rouf had to pay the price and on 10/11---2005 he had to be thrown back to where he came from.

This morning a local newspaper read that the government intends to reduce the country’s foreign manpower (in all professions) to 10% by 2010.

Soon, I might be visiting the HR department again. Or the prayer room.

Later on this day, a friend of Ma’rouf’s informed me that Ma’rouf is enjoying his time at Juhu beach in Mombay, India, where he’s sipping Pina Coladas while getting a bronzage tan.
(wallah 3meltha ya ma3rouf)

A message to all locals: Ma’rouf’s position is currently vacant. The company is looking for qualified candidates.