The Ugly American (8 page)

In general, we're in good shape out here.

But what I need in a hurry for my staff are some people I can trust who have initiative. I'm getting damned sick and tired of having to do everything myself. For one thing, we need a new public affairs officer. This girl Maggie Johnson is all right, but she agrees with the native press too much. And she keeps bringing newspapermen—especially Americans—in to see me. They pester hell out of me about problems which are none of their business, and which Miss Johnson should handle on her own.

Dex, do you remember Joe Bing? He made a big impression on me when he appeared before the Senate Committee. He's a sharp cookie with his eye on the ball. See if you can get him assigned out here, will you? He was stationed in Setkya for a while, so he should know the Asian picture. Also a few good looking girls as secretaries. They'd be a good advertisement for America, and would help morale.

You can read between the lines, Dex. I don't want to be torpedoed by a bunch of crackpot internationalists who don't know which end is up. And I want a staff we can be proud of. Get someone m personnel to do some active recruiting for us. Thanks.

Lou

Employment Opportunities Abroad

"Employment Opportunities Abroad" was printed in bright red across the top of the placards. Maybe 1500 of the handsome cards appeared throughout Washington on bulletin boards in government offices, university halls, Civil Service offices, boarding houses, and the cheap dormitories in which so many "government girls" live. The placards made it clear that there was a shortage of trained people to work abroad; and that if one worked overseas the pay would be good, advancement was possible, and it would be patriotic —as well as an opportunity to see exotic and interesting parts of the world. The placard also said that a meeting would be held in a conference room at American University which would be addressed by "experienced Foreign Service officers who have themselves lived and worked abroad." There would also be a question period.

The conference room was crowded by the time the meeting began. The main speaker was Mr. Hamilton Bridge Upton who had served as a consul in seven different countries.

He looked like Brooks Brothers, Dartmouth, confidence, poise, good cocktail conversation, no dirty jokes, and a representative of the United States ... all of which was true. Sitting with him behind the table was a very fat, warm, jolly man named Joseph F. Bing. He looked like a traveling salesman, Northwestern U., a "big man on campus," an inside dopester, a good journalist, and a man who knew his way about ... all of which was true.

Mr. Hamilton Upton spoke first with skill and dignity. His information was precise, and his audience felt that he was a worthy representative of a great power ... a man who knew how to handle tough situations and tricky foreigners.

"Each of us would like to stay home, develop his profession, widen his friendships, and rear his family," Mr. Upton began. "But in times of such momentous crises, when our country faces challenges unlike any she has ever faced, we must also realize that we have duties as citizens. And not only as citizens, but as members of the world community. In all lands we are beset by an evil world-wide conspiracy. We need our best people abroad to help contain this clever and malignant conspiracy."

I like the way he doesn't call them Communists, those conspiracy people, Marie Macintosh thought. She was there with her three girl friends, all of whom worked in the Pentagon stenographic pool; they shared a small apartment close to Rock Creek Park.

Mr. Upton talked for fifteen minutes, giving the impression of a discussion between one superior person and another. Marie felt impressed and involved just by being addressed in such a way.

"And now I would like to introduce Mr. Joe Bing," Mr. Upton said when he had finished. "Mr. Bing is a public information officer and an expert on Asian affairs. He has served for several years in Setkya, and served with distinction. He has requested duty in Sarkhan, and will probably be leaving for that country in the near future. Here is a person who is an expert at meeting natives face to face as equals."

Mr. Upton sat down and Mr. Joseph Bing pushed back his chair, hefted his body up, and walked around the table. He sat on the edge of the table and at once the entire audience relaxed.

"My name is Bing, but I'm a government public relations man and you can call me Joe," he said. Everyone laughed. A few people in the audience said "Hiya, Joe," and he waved his hand. "I work for men like Mr. Upton, and let me tell you it's a pleasure. Foreign affairs is big business and it's important business. You all know that. Now maybe I can tell you a few things about working abroad for Uncle Sammy that you won't read in the handouts. After all, even when you're doing big work and important work, you still have to relax, and I know you'd like to know about the informal side of living and working abroad."

Joe spent a few minutes describing the simple business of getting to an overseas post. Air or ship, he said, but first class. Nothing but the best. Then he winked and the audience shifted in their seats. Marie Macintosh inched forward and listened intently.

"Now I know what's on your minds. At least on the minds of some of you," Joe said jovially. "Your social life. O.K., let's talk about it. You'll have to work among foreigners, but we don't expect you to love 'em just because you work among 'em. I don't care where you go to work for Uncle Sammy, you'll be living with a gang of clean-cut Americans. And a lot of 'em are single people, so you won't be lonesome if you're not married."

Mr. Upton very carefully was looking over Joe's head at some distant speck on the wall. But there was the faintest trace of a smile on his face, with which everyone in the audience was pleased. They knew that Mr. Upton enjoyed what Joe was saying as much as they, and it made foreign duty seem like a family affair. Mr. Upton was the proper but protective father; and Joe was the uncle who always shows up at Christmas with whiskey on his breath and gifts in his suitcase.

Joe went on for twenty minutes. He was expert at using the concrete example and answering the practical question. He knew about the price of alligator shoes in Brazil, the cost of Scotch in Japan, the availability of servants in Vietnam, the pension one could expect after twenty years of faithful service. He told about commissaries which stocked wholesome American food for Americans stationed all over the world. "You can buy the same food in Asia that you can in Peoria. Even, say, in Saigon they stock American ice cream, bread, cake, and, well, anything you want," said Joe Bing. "We look out for our people. When you live overseas it's still on the high American standard."

"Sounds good, doesn't it?" Marie Macintosh whispered. The other three girls nodded. Marie guessed that they were all thinking about the two-room apartment the four of them shared. Two of them slept on a foldaway couch in the front room, and had to get up early so that the table could be opened for breakfast. Their only luxury was a bottle of whiskey every Friday night which they drank with ginger ale because none of them liked the taste.

Joe Bing finished his informal talk and then announced that he or Mr. Upton would be glad to answer questions. No one asked Mr. Upton a thing; but Joe talked steadily for another half-hour.

"What about learning to speak a foreign language?" a small wiry girl asked. "I understand you have to learn the language of a country before you go there."

"Now, just a minute," Joe said, his voice full of good humor, "someone gave you the wrong dope. Uncle Sammy is not crazy. How many people do you think we could round up in this country who can speak Cambodian or Japanese or even German? Well, not very many. I don't
parlez vous
very well myself, but I've always made out pretty well in foreign countries. Fact is, we don't expect you to know the native language. Translators are a dime a dozen overseas. And besides, it's better to make the Asians learn English. Helps them, too. Most of the foreigners you'll do business with speak perfect English."

"I hear everything's expensive overseas," said another listener. "Can we ever save money?"

Joe Bing laughed. "Look, your housing's all paid for. Your only expenses are food, liquor if you drink, clothes, and servants—and you can buy a whole family of servants for forty dollars a month."

Sixty-seven people put in applications, among them Marie Macintosh, Homer Atkins, a retired engineer, and a newspaperman named Kohler. The newspaperman was rejected because he had once written some articles criticizing the government. Joe Bing was particularly interested in these three because they had all indicated that they wanted to go to Asia. In fact, two of them mentioned Sarkhan.

"You know," said Mr. Upton a week later, "there's something wrong with our recruiting system. With the exception of Atkins, that engineer, every applicant will be making more money with the government than he does in the job he has now. Frankly, I think we're getting slobs."

"What about that old engineer?"

"I think maybe he'll turn out to be a screwball. He put down that his present income from investments is $150,000 a year."

The Girl Who Got Recruited

Marie Macintosh was twenty-eight years old and she had a private cry about once a week. She was drab, and she knew it. Her life was drab, and she knew it. What she needed was a husband, and she knew that too. The one hope she had for a change in her routine life was her application for overseas duty.

Although Marie had interesting bosses and a responsible job, life was dull. She left her apartment at six-thirty in the morning so that she could get a seat on the bus, and also so that she could eat breakfast in the government cafeteria. Usually she stayed in her office until almost five-thirty, and would then have dinner in the government cafeteria. This routine meant she avoided the crowded buses; and it was much cheaper and easier than eating in the crowded apartment.

Marie's nights were almost all the same. After doing her share of the apartment cleaning and her own laundry, she sat in front of the TV set with her three roommates.

Then Marie received a letter of acceptance to her application for overseas duty. She was to go to Sarkhan. Three months later she landed at Haidho airfield.

A month later she wrote her ex-roommates a letter:

Dear Mary, Joan, and Louise, The trip to Haidho was wonderful. I flew first class all the way —the real deluxe treatment—all paid for. It was great. (Remember the time we flew tourist class to Chicago and packed our lunches in our handbags, and how we had to stand in line?)

Well, naturally I was scared when I stepped off the plane at Haidho (the capitol of Sarkhan). Everything was new and I didn't know what to expect. Well, girls, there was a chauffeur-driven car waiting for me at the airport along with a reception committee. I didn't have to go through customs or anything. When I asked about my luggage, Mister Preston (the man who came to meet me) said never mind, Tonki will look after it Tonki is a Sarkhanese who works for the embassy here.

Two of the girls who met me are also secretaries and they said that I should live with them if I wanted to; and I'm staying with them now.

You should see our house (picture enclosed). We each have our own bedroom—and there's an extra for guests. There's a dining room, a living room, and maid's quarters.

And there are built-in servants! Honest. We have three servants to look after us. It's a family of them, father, mother, and a fourteen year old girl. They do the cooking, cleaning, laundry— everything. Oh how they baby us! When they wake me in the morning, they bring a glass of orange juice and a cup of tea. This is real living.

The Americans here are very friendly. They all give parties and plenty of them; there's at least one cocktail party or dinner every night. It's easy to do, of course, because everyone has help. All I have to do is check with my housemates to see if it's okay, and then call the servant. "Ehibun," I say, "we're having ten for dinner next Tuesday. Can you handle it?"

"Yes, mum," she says, and that's all there is to it. And what a dinner for ten it turns out to be! Just like in the movies.

Liquor over here in the government liquor store is dirt cheap. There's no tax on it—so Johnny Walker Black Label, Old Grand Dad, and Beefeater Gin are all less than two dollars a bottle. And we also have a Commissary and PX.

And speaking of things being cheap, I'm buying a new Hillman. I can get it for much less than the U. S. price. It's duty free, and there's some special arrangement so the government brings it over for me from England for nothing.

There are only about a thousand Americans here, and we stick together. That means that we girls get asked to everything. I've been to the ambassador's parties several times; and to lots of dinners at the MAAG (Military Assistance and Advisory Group) and the USIS and the ECA (Economic Mission).

Well, it's time to go to the office—I see my car is waiting in front. We're driven to work and back in a government car pool I have to get to the office early today so I can take a long lunch hour, because I have an appointment with my dressmaker.

The best thing about being here is that for the first time in my life I can save money. Of course, my rent is free. My basic salary is $3400, but on top of that I get a $680 increase in pay because of location. You see, this is defined by the Department as a hardship post.

Love to you all, Marie