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Follow Me !
First published 1990
ISBN 0 946612 04 8
___________________________
Sample Content:
WE ARE A LEADING TOUR OPERATOR AND ARE LOOKING FOR MORE TOUR MANAGERS
to lead our American, Canadian and Australian tourist groups on
European trips. Our tour managers are friendly and outgoing men and women who are always there when something is happening, always on the road with interesting people. They live in good hotels and move in an international atmosphere. If you like to travel, are a good conversationalist, self-confident and mature, then get in touch with us, even if you have never before worked as a tour manager and even if you have not travelled much. We will show you how it’s done. If you speak fluent English, are between 23 and 45 years old and have good education, then you should send a recent photo, together with your career details and application to the address below.
It was early in 1976 and I had been living in the Bavarian capital, Munich, in southern Germany, for nearly two years. Much of that time had been spent working in the computer department of the Bank of America and I was ready for a change. So was the Bank of America. They had made a brave decision to take me on in the first place, since I had no computer experience, and their initial reservations had been fully justified. Wherever my talents lay, they certainly did not lie in that field. The question was what to do next? The advert in the Süddeutsche Zeitung, Munich’s main newspaper, looked at least interesting.
I wrote off an application, half expecting to hear nothing more; but a few days later, a reply did come, from a Mr Liedermann, asking me to an interview at the Munich Hilton.
Mr Liedermann was a tanned, silver-haired man who spoke with a strong American accent. It was a few minutes into the interview discussion before I realized that he was not American but German. The manner was friendly; but there was no time wasted. I was invited to talk about myself and my career to date, and to explain what I felt made me suitable for the work. Since I had only the vaguest idea of what the work entailed, this was difficult, made more so by Mr Liedermann switching without warning to German and then to French and expecting me to do the same.
After ten minutes of this, he sat back in his chair and smiled. “Good. You come across well. Your German is excellent, your French is lousy and your Italian is non-existent. You will have to learn Italian, Mr Tinney. But your manner is friendly and you of course speak perfect English, which is the language of our clients. I tell you frankly that a candidate succeeds or fails when he comes through that door. If you make a good initial impression on me, you will with the clients. We can offer you a place on our training tour; but no doubt you have some questions which you would like to ask.”
I was so surprised at this decisiveness and the speed of events that all the questions I had mentally prepared refused to surface. Mr Liedermann was apparently used to this reaction and speedily terminated the interview by thanking me for coming and by emphasizing that the written offer, together with details of the training tour, would be posted to me the following day.
That afternoon, I handed in my notice at the bank. With unused holiday allocation deducted from the normal notice period, I was free in a few days and was looking forward with a mixture of excitement and nervousness to a completely different way of life.
The beginning of the training seminar was held in Lugano. On the first morning, eighty of us gathered in the conference room of a large, old-fashioned and very Swiss hotel on the shore of the lake and sized each other up. Men and women were about equally represented, ranging in age from what I guessed was early twenties up to a man who looked as though he could be in his late nineties. He turned out to be barely fifty; but life had obviously dealt him a few rough hands, although he never did enlighten us about his past.
Mr Liedermann entered the room and mounted the rostrum, followed by a colleague whom he introduced as Mrs Nischer. They both smiled at us.
“Ladies and gentlemen, Mrs Nischer and I would like to welcome you all. For the next seven days, we shall be working hard together until you have a thorough grounding in our business and understand what is expected of tour managers and how you can achieve our expectations and our standards.”
He indicated that we should turn to the copy of the week’s timetable with which we had been issued and proceeded to explain it in depth.
After spending another day in Lugano, we were to take two coaches and drive through Italy, overnighting in Venice, Rome and Florence and with a full-day excursion to the Isle of Capri. On the way, we would have to practise being tour managers, from giving speeches on the microphone to checking the group into hotels and arranging meals.
“Very few of you have been involved in tourism before; but we have chosen you because we think you can do the job. We know that you are educated and intelligent and believe that you are also attractive personalities. We know also that eighty attractive and intelligent men and women together may be a little distracting for some of you.”
He permitted himself the briefest of smiles. “But remember, you are here to work. This is not a holiday. Holidays do not arrive for you until the winter. By then you will deserve them. Now, I shall call your names and you will each stand up, introduce yourselves and give a brief account of your career to date, in English, which is the only language you are permitted use throughout the week.”
It was an interesting hour, as one candidate after another stood up. Dutch, Germans, Austrians and British were there in strength, together with a smattering of Swiss, French, Americans and Australians. The quality of English was high; but it was obvious that some candidates were very nervous.
One, an Englishman, announced that he was an escaped vicar. This drew loud laughter and applause from the British contingent and puzzled looks from many of the continentals. Stammering, he corrected himself. He had meant to say, vintner. It was no good. Thereafter, he was known as The Reverend.
In fact, there was an extraordinary diversity of background. Apart from university students and those who were studying elsewhere, one found ski-instructors, sailors, journalists, writers, teachers, bankers, gardeners, entrepreneurs and several whose description of their past was so vague that we amused ourselves later by speculating what exactly they had been doing.
We were all united by one thing – a sense of adventure. Many had come on the training tour with no clear idea of the job and were prepared to leave immediately if they did not like what they found. Others looked upon it as an interesting interval between university and career; very few, if any, thought of tour managing as a career in itself and, in the mid-1970s, few tour companies thought that way either. Only a decade later did the idea of a career structure begin to evolve in the more far-sighted companies, whose tour managers were encouraged to look on their positions as permanent.
This was all in the future. Right now, we were happy to study; but also determined to enjoy ourselves. A week in Italy, for many of us the first time there, would provide all the opportunity we needed.
For northern Europeans, Italy exuded an aura of goodhumoured and intriguing chaos and decadence. To those brought up in rigidly organized societies where bureaucracy is efficient and success in life is founded on the logic of qualification, study and hard work, the first sight of Italian cities, filled at any time of day with thousands of Italians, who apparently have nothing better to do than drink coffee or shop for beautiful clothes, is a severe shock. It is as if science has suddenly discovered that the earth is flat after all and that one’s concept of reality has to be entirely rebuilt.
As Italy becomes more familiar, it is clear that Italians do work and that many of them work very hard; but work also includes going for a coffee and shopping for beautiful clothes. For an Italian, to be without family and friends is as close as possible to be dead without actually reaching that state. No Italian is stupid enough to sit in the office drinking coffee with a colleague, when both of them could be enjoying it so much more in the little bar across the road. They are still talking about business; but here they can also talk about their families and help solve each other’s domestic problems.
That wonderfully cynical saying among Italian bureaucrats, “With friends we interpret the law, with others we apply it,” is valid everywhere in Italian life. Italians shudder at the idea of being isolated, not only because their gregarious spirits would wither like vines without water; but because they would be helpless in a land where friends are needed to survive the daily clash with chaotic government.
For any Italian who has even a few Lire to spare, La Bella Figura is almost as important as family and friends. Italy, above all European countries, is the one where the packaging counts as much as or more than the contents. Whether the packaging contains a house, a car or an Italian, makes no difference. It has to be tasteful, stylish, and exquisite. No matter if you bankrupt yourself in the process, you will be forgiven for that. But let it be seen that you lack generosity of spirit and you will count for nothing, whatever the state of your bank balance.
The average Italian has a grace and charm, which are conspicuously absent in some of those nations north of the Alps. When you dine at a hotel in Italy as a tour manager, the head waiter will make sure you are looked after well.
“You would like another bottle of wine? Certainly. You have some friends visiting whom you would like to invite to dinner? Of course. It’s a pleasure.”
All that is expected is that you tip well. Then everyone is happy. You and your friends have enjoyed an excellent dinner and the waiters are a little bit wealthier. What about the owner? He is happy too. The extra food and drink cost next to nothing in comparison with what his hotel earns from your tour company and he has contented staff. Suggest that policy to the average German or Swiss hotel proprietor and he will at the very least suffer a sleepless night and quite possibly severe palpitations. In Germany and Switzerland, you can have whatever you want provided you pay for it, and the price is clearly marked on the menu.
_________________________
If you wanna readmore the book, you can download the book in digital version from link below :
© Mark Tinney 1990
First published 1990
ISBN 0 946612 04 8
___________________________
Sample Content:
WE ARE A LEADING TOUR OPERATOR AND ARE LOOKING FOR MORE TOUR MANAGERS
to lead our American, Canadian and Australian tourist groups on
European trips. Our tour managers are friendly and outgoing men and women who are always there when something is happening, always on the road with interesting people. They live in good hotels and move in an international atmosphere. If you like to travel, are a good conversationalist, self-confident and mature, then get in touch with us, even if you have never before worked as a tour manager and even if you have not travelled much. We will show you how it’s done. If you speak fluent English, are between 23 and 45 years old and have good education, then you should send a recent photo, together with your career details and application to the address below.
It was early in 1976 and I had been living in the Bavarian capital, Munich, in southern Germany, for nearly two years. Much of that time had been spent working in the computer department of the Bank of America and I was ready for a change. So was the Bank of America. They had made a brave decision to take me on in the first place, since I had no computer experience, and their initial reservations had been fully justified. Wherever my talents lay, they certainly did not lie in that field. The question was what to do next? The advert in the Süddeutsche Zeitung, Munich’s main newspaper, looked at least interesting.
I wrote off an application, half expecting to hear nothing more; but a few days later, a reply did come, from a Mr Liedermann, asking me to an interview at the Munich Hilton.
Mr Liedermann was a tanned, silver-haired man who spoke with a strong American accent. It was a few minutes into the interview discussion before I realized that he was not American but German. The manner was friendly; but there was no time wasted. I was invited to talk about myself and my career to date, and to explain what I felt made me suitable for the work. Since I had only the vaguest idea of what the work entailed, this was difficult, made more so by Mr Liedermann switching without warning to German and then to French and expecting me to do the same.
After ten minutes of this, he sat back in his chair and smiled. “Good. You come across well. Your German is excellent, your French is lousy and your Italian is non-existent. You will have to learn Italian, Mr Tinney. But your manner is friendly and you of course speak perfect English, which is the language of our clients. I tell you frankly that a candidate succeeds or fails when he comes through that door. If you make a good initial impression on me, you will with the clients. We can offer you a place on our training tour; but no doubt you have some questions which you would like to ask.”
I was so surprised at this decisiveness and the speed of events that all the questions I had mentally prepared refused to surface. Mr Liedermann was apparently used to this reaction and speedily terminated the interview by thanking me for coming and by emphasizing that the written offer, together with details of the training tour, would be posted to me the following day.
That afternoon, I handed in my notice at the bank. With unused holiday allocation deducted from the normal notice period, I was free in a few days and was looking forward with a mixture of excitement and nervousness to a completely different way of life.
The beginning of the training seminar was held in Lugano. On the first morning, eighty of us gathered in the conference room of a large, old-fashioned and very Swiss hotel on the shore of the lake and sized each other up. Men and women were about equally represented, ranging in age from what I guessed was early twenties up to a man who looked as though he could be in his late nineties. He turned out to be barely fifty; but life had obviously dealt him a few rough hands, although he never did enlighten us about his past.
Mr Liedermann entered the room and mounted the rostrum, followed by a colleague whom he introduced as Mrs Nischer. They both smiled at us.
“Ladies and gentlemen, Mrs Nischer and I would like to welcome you all. For the next seven days, we shall be working hard together until you have a thorough grounding in our business and understand what is expected of tour managers and how you can achieve our expectations and our standards.”
He indicated that we should turn to the copy of the week’s timetable with which we had been issued and proceeded to explain it in depth.
After spending another day in Lugano, we were to take two coaches and drive through Italy, overnighting in Venice, Rome and Florence and with a full-day excursion to the Isle of Capri. On the way, we would have to practise being tour managers, from giving speeches on the microphone to checking the group into hotels and arranging meals.
“Very few of you have been involved in tourism before; but we have chosen you because we think you can do the job. We know that you are educated and intelligent and believe that you are also attractive personalities. We know also that eighty attractive and intelligent men and women together may be a little distracting for some of you.”
He permitted himself the briefest of smiles. “But remember, you are here to work. This is not a holiday. Holidays do not arrive for you until the winter. By then you will deserve them. Now, I shall call your names and you will each stand up, introduce yourselves and give a brief account of your career to date, in English, which is the only language you are permitted use throughout the week.”
It was an interesting hour, as one candidate after another stood up. Dutch, Germans, Austrians and British were there in strength, together with a smattering of Swiss, French, Americans and Australians. The quality of English was high; but it was obvious that some candidates were very nervous.
One, an Englishman, announced that he was an escaped vicar. This drew loud laughter and applause from the British contingent and puzzled looks from many of the continentals. Stammering, he corrected himself. He had meant to say, vintner. It was no good. Thereafter, he was known as The Reverend.
In fact, there was an extraordinary diversity of background. Apart from university students and those who were studying elsewhere, one found ski-instructors, sailors, journalists, writers, teachers, bankers, gardeners, entrepreneurs and several whose description of their past was so vague that we amused ourselves later by speculating what exactly they had been doing.
We were all united by one thing – a sense of adventure. Many had come on the training tour with no clear idea of the job and were prepared to leave immediately if they did not like what they found. Others looked upon it as an interesting interval between university and career; very few, if any, thought of tour managing as a career in itself and, in the mid-1970s, few tour companies thought that way either. Only a decade later did the idea of a career structure begin to evolve in the more far-sighted companies, whose tour managers were encouraged to look on their positions as permanent.
This was all in the future. Right now, we were happy to study; but also determined to enjoy ourselves. A week in Italy, for many of us the first time there, would provide all the opportunity we needed.
For northern Europeans, Italy exuded an aura of goodhumoured and intriguing chaos and decadence. To those brought up in rigidly organized societies where bureaucracy is efficient and success in life is founded on the logic of qualification, study and hard work, the first sight of Italian cities, filled at any time of day with thousands of Italians, who apparently have nothing better to do than drink coffee or shop for beautiful clothes, is a severe shock. It is as if science has suddenly discovered that the earth is flat after all and that one’s concept of reality has to be entirely rebuilt.
As Italy becomes more familiar, it is clear that Italians do work and that many of them work very hard; but work also includes going for a coffee and shopping for beautiful clothes. For an Italian, to be without family and friends is as close as possible to be dead without actually reaching that state. No Italian is stupid enough to sit in the office drinking coffee with a colleague, when both of them could be enjoying it so much more in the little bar across the road. They are still talking about business; but here they can also talk about their families and help solve each other’s domestic problems.
That wonderfully cynical saying among Italian bureaucrats, “With friends we interpret the law, with others we apply it,” is valid everywhere in Italian life. Italians shudder at the idea of being isolated, not only because their gregarious spirits would wither like vines without water; but because they would be helpless in a land where friends are needed to survive the daily clash with chaotic government.
For any Italian who has even a few Lire to spare, La Bella Figura is almost as important as family and friends. Italy, above all European countries, is the one where the packaging counts as much as or more than the contents. Whether the packaging contains a house, a car or an Italian, makes no difference. It has to be tasteful, stylish, and exquisite. No matter if you bankrupt yourself in the process, you will be forgiven for that. But let it be seen that you lack generosity of spirit and you will count for nothing, whatever the state of your bank balance.
The average Italian has a grace and charm, which are conspicuously absent in some of those nations north of the Alps. When you dine at a hotel in Italy as a tour manager, the head waiter will make sure you are looked after well.
“You would like another bottle of wine? Certainly. You have some friends visiting whom you would like to invite to dinner? Of course. It’s a pleasure.”
All that is expected is that you tip well. Then everyone is happy. You and your friends have enjoyed an excellent dinner and the waiters are a little bit wealthier. What about the owner? He is happy too. The extra food and drink cost next to nothing in comparison with what his hotel earns from your tour company and he has contented staff. Suggest that policy to the average German or Swiss hotel proprietor and he will at the very least suffer a sleepless night and quite possibly severe palpitations. In Germany and Switzerland, you can have whatever you want provided you pay for it, and the price is clearly marked on the menu.
_________________________
If you wanna readmore the book, you can download the book in digital version from link below :
