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mej stories search primary menu skip to content albums family timelines search for: anecdotes , professional belated confession november 15, 2016 michael e. jackson it had been a stimulating vacation spain. my head was full of exotic images; madrid; barcelona; cordoba; granada; and flamenco dancing in seville. and now i was returning home to my lover. the mundane, yet necessary, ride in the cab to get home. as we entered the lobby, dominic returned my keys to me and we rode up in the elevator, anxious to be alone in the privacy of my apartment. i inserted the key in the lock and we went in. some papers from my mailbox and keys were thrown down on the nearest flat surface, as we finally were able to hug each other. we head to the bedroom….unpacking could wait. [pause] next morning dominic left early as was his custom and i prepared for my swim… speedos, goggles, flip-flops, towel, keys….where the heck were my keys? i checked the apartment twice over but no luck. twenty minutes passed quickly as my frustration increased. my wallet was safely and wisely in its correct place. the keys were not with it. i continued to search every likely and unlikely place lifting the mess of papers on my dining room table and searching down chair cushions where we had sat the evening before. nothing! i picked up the phone. dominic was clear headed. almost his first suggestion was the coffee table. that was bare…but what about the end tables? i lifted some papers and there they were. whew! relief. nothing that we haven’t all been through at some time or other but it did remind me of a more parallel and much more dramatic event in my life which threatened considerably more dire consequences and had me struggling against panic with my whole career at stake… in 1970 i was working in a bank in oman, then an impoverished country in arabia, across the straits of hormuz from iran. the sultan had arranged for my employer to collect the circulating indian rupees, the then legal currency, and distribute new omani rials. i had been selected to be the assistant manager of the teams handling this major project and as such was the first currency officer of what was to become the omani central bank. this carried the responsibility for possession of one of the two keys to the vault that now contained the new cash ready for distribution around the country. each key consisted of an 8” steel rod to which the actual key was attached by a spring enabling it to be detached for the convenience of the key holder. at that time there were only three banks in the entire country and all three were more or less adjacent to one another in the small town of muscat. there was only one tarmac road of a few miles connecting muscat, the capital, with muttrah, the commercial center, both at that time populated by only a few thousand people each. there was one airport with a concrete landing strip servicing three flights a week from dubai. an almost medieval infrastructure, which had necessitated our arranging three teams to traverse a country only a slightly smaller than kansas. it was mostly desert. in fact parts actually included the appropriately named and notorious empty quarter. i was heading up one of the teams comprised of two 5-ton trucks, two jeeps with mounted machine guns atop the hood, 5 indian clerks, an omani interpreter, and a platoon of omani army soldiers under a british, mercenary, sergeant. in addition we included rolls of barbed wire intended to delineate our open air temporary banking spaces when no suitable adobe building was available. everything was set except the start time which was to be the first day of the new lunar month. this was determined by the sighting of the new moon the previous night by one of the sultan’s men and announced by firing a centuries-old cannon. the expected time had long since passed and we had sent everyone home fully expecting another 24 hour wait before starting. of course, no sooner than we were safely settled in our adobe dwelling than the cannon was heard. we scrambled to make sure all three teams would be ready the following morning at first light and then, exhausted tried to grab a few hours sleep. as the sun rose the following morning to reveal three teams of nearly a hundred men all ready outside the currency office, only the currency, safe in the vault, still needed to be loaded onto the trucks. however, i was still looking for the key to the vault. it was nowhere to be found. i had the steel rod but no key. panic began to screw my stomach into knots. after twenty minutes of frantic searching, i had to tell my boss and holder of the second key to the locks in the vault door. we both understood what was at stake….not only our jobs, but probably our entire careers. this did not help the sickening feeling i was experiencing. trying to be calm, my boss and i retraced our steps since locking the vault the previous evening…out of the currency office, over the dried up river bed to our house. not far but the river bed was a mass of pebbles. we reached the house and stepped into the room that served as our lounge where we had sat in over-stuffed armchairs the evening before, carefully sitting in the same seats and trying hard to remember if we had gone anywhere else in the small house before adjourning to bed. i slipped my hands down the sides of the seat cushion and there was the key. i was shaking with relief but had to get a hold on myself and show that “stiff upper lip” that brits are famous for…remember i still carried a british passport when these events occurred. well, the currency exchange went off without any further hitches. my boss returned to london, i remained as the currency officer for a further 6 months before getting my next assignment which turned out to be in kuwait. the brief loss of keys was never mentioned in my official report and this is my first public confession. michael e. jackson october, 2016 uncategorized omani currency exchange 1970 november 15, 2016 michael e. jackson team ii 1st day fanjah 7 th may1970 having thrown a drawer full of clothes into a suitcase at 1 am and snatched a mere four hours sleep, i was up again at 5 am when the whole of the street in front of the bank and the currency authority and much of the wadi behind was choked with a motley mixture of the khaki and jungle green of three platoons of the sultan’s armed forces (complete with extra three tonners and landrovers for the bank teams). a crowd of onlookers was kept at bay simply with the awe and respect created by the proximity of fixed bayonets and a street full of rifles and bren guns. eventually by 8 am everything was loaded and everybody was ready to board. the other teams had already left and we set out in what was to remain our routine formation. first, two landrovers of “recce” platoon, in the front of which was the escort commander; then the first bank landrover with the interpreter, one clerk and the cook. in the middle was the three-tonner laden with the currency and sundry supplies followed by the second bank landrover in which i rode with three clerks. the rear of the column was made up of the platoon’s three tonner and the remaining two landrovers. on each of the platoon’s open landrovers a bren gun was mounted on the bonnet-and the whole convoy was quite impressive. we drove in close formation as far as bait-al-falaj , but once on the oil company (pdo) road we spread out riding never closer than 50 yards behind the preceding vehicle. as often as not it appeared as a mere cloud of choking dust and one was soon absolutely filthy. by 9 am we had passed azaiba and had turned inland. already the perspiration in my hair had caked the dust into a fine clay. it was plain that this was not going to be very pleasant for two weeks and we each in turn acquired shemargs which were bound around the head in a variety of fashions. they are rather warm and cause one to perspire, but the breeze evaporates the perspiration caught in the shemarg and the res

URL analysis for mejstories.com

http://mejstories.com/category/timelines
http://mejstories.com/hello-world
http://mejstories.com/hello-world#comments
http://mejstories.com/category/uncategorized
http://mejstories.com/2016/11
http://mejstories.com/belated-confession
http://mejstories.com/2016/10
http://mejstories.com/omani-currency-exchange-1970
http://mejstories.com/author/mejackson
http://mejstories.com/category/albums
http://mejstories.com/family-tree
http://mejstories.com/category/professional
http://mejstories.com/#content
http://mejstories.com/#search-container
http://mejstories.com/wp-content/uploads/2016/10/barrow-suffolk-connections.pptx

Whois Information

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Domain Name: MEJSTORIES.COM
Registry Domain ID: 2067481476_DOMAIN_COM-VRSN
Registrar WHOIS Server: whois.1and1.com
Registrar URL: http://registrar.1and1.info
Updated Date: 2018-03-15T13:04:56Z
Creation Date: 2016-10-19T18:47:33Z
Registry Expiry Date: 2018-10-19T18:47:33Z
Registrar: 1&1 Internet SE
Registrar IANA ID: 83
Registrar Abuse Contact Email: [email protected]
Registrar Abuse Contact Phone: +1.6105601459
Domain Status: clientTransferProhibited https://icann.org/epp#clientTransferProhibited
Name Server: NS1123.UI-DNS.BIZ
Name Server: NS1123.UI-DNS.COM
Name Server: NS1123.UI-DNS.DE
Name Server: NS1123.UI-DNS.ORG
DNSSEC: unsigned
URL of the ICANN Whois Inaccuracy Complaint Form: https://www.icann.org/wicf/
>>> Last update of whois database: 2018-08-04T07:51:24Z <<<

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  REGISTRAR 1&1 Internet SE

SERVERS

  SERVER com.whois-servers.net

  ARGS domain =mejstories.com

  PORT 43

  TYPE domain

DOMAIN

  NAME mejstories.com

  CHANGED 2018-03-15

  CREATED 2016-10-19

STATUS
clientTransferProhibited https://icann.org/epp#clientTransferProhibited

NSERVER

  NS1123.UI-DNS.BIZ 217.160.81.123

  NS1123.UI-DNS.COM 217.160.82.123

  NS1123.UI-DNS.DE 217.160.80.123

  NS1123.UI-DNS.ORG 217.160.83.123

  REGISTERED yes

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