A Cry for Help
It is late one night in early February. Inside Source is in bed, stretching luxuriously and yawning. Another long hard day at the outsourcing mill is coming to an end. The great black curtain of sleep is sliding down – when suddenly the air is split by a cacophonous trilling. It’s the phone. An international number I don’t recognise.
“Hi! It’s” – let’s call him John – “John.”
John is someone I have worked with on and off for several years. He’s a bit of a sourcing maverick – so I’m not totally surprised to hear from him at midnight – but I am somewhat put out…
“Er… Hello. Do you know what time it is?”
“I’m in Egypt!”
That’s not an answer… But as the last thing I’ve seen before settling down was news about the protests in Cairo, I’m suddenly all ears.
“OK… Are you OK?”
“Yeah, absolutely! Of course!” A pause. “Sorry I haven’t been in contact for a while.”
This puzzles me somewhat – we’re acquaintances rather than friends, after all. But:
“No, no – I understand. What’s happening?”
“Oh, it’s manic, absolutely manic. Things are totally crazy.”
“I can’t even begin to imagine.” My mind is racing. Does he need help? For the first time ever am I going to be at the centre of an international rescue mission?
“Yeah, I’ve never been busier. So listen: I’ve got a really good deal… Do you know anyone who wants to buy 80 seats in Smart City?”
And suddenly, as if sliced by a bayonet in the darkness, the line goes dead…