The Spaniard

Yesterday was my first day at my new summer job. Since I now have a full time job, and should have my tuition covered for next year, I now have a small bit of expendable income, which is why I now have a blog here.

So anyways, at my new job, I'm doing all sorts of odd warehouse related work, such as breaking down boxes, sweeping under and dusting shelves, and organizing bolts of fabric. (I had no idea spools of fabric were called bolts.)

Whatever I was doing, it all seemed a tad meticulous but not unmanageable by any means. Since this is a slow time of the year, they have me doing more or less busy work until business picks up again.

The reason I've been spending so much time on this general house-keeping work is because the owner of the company was expecting an important, international guest today. What this man's right name was, I've never heard, but around here, he was known as "The Spaniard".

Nobody was sure who the Spaniard was, yet everyone was a little anxious for his arrival. I figured he was either a major customer or maybe a potential investor. It was my job to ensure the entire wing of the warehouse was in tip top shape for the arrival of the Spaniard.

Around 11 am today, I saw a man, (who I assumed to be the owner of the company, since I haven't met him yet) giving a detailed tour to another man....The Spaniard. I worked nervously as the owner gave the Spaniard explained the ins and outs of the warehouse. At this point, I still had no idea who the Spaniard was, or what he was really there for.

Luckily, the owner either did not notice me, or didn't want to talk to me, so I avoided the awkward encounter of having to introduce myself to the owner while in the presence of the Spaniard. As the day went on, the Spaniard's tour continued, with me still baffled as to what his actual business was.

At the end of the day, I met up with my father who works at another department of the warehouse. We had discussed the Spaniard earlier that day, when we both had no idea who he was. I asked my dad if he had heard anything new about him. My dad explained to me that the Spaniard was basically just a guy from Spain.

Apparently the Spaniard owns a facility similar to the one I work at, and the owner of our place visited it once. The Spaniard was in the States for a while, so our owner was simply reciprocating the Spaniard by offering him a tour of his place.

So at least now I know who the mysterious Spaniard was.