Alberto had taken us through a road darkened by the jungle to the Miraflores locks, and we had stayed a few hours, fascinated by the ups and downs of the cargo ships. Then, upon our wish, he drove us to Colón where we wanted to pay a visit to two brothers, watchmakers who many years ago had left Neuchâtel, their home country.
My wife knew them and, as a mark of friendship, they opened a bottle of white wine which had travelled well. I would even dare say that it tasted better than at their original location. Business was slow and the climate took a toll. They showed us their library where lamps burned constantly to fight the humidity.
We drove back in the early evening and wondered how people of so many backgrounds could live together peacefully. Alberto’s face was a mirror of the many migrations that contributed to the country’s development. An executive at a renowned insurance company, he was ambitious and even hinted at the possibility of succeeding the general manager. We liked dealing with him because you knew where you stood. He negotiated hard but in a fair way.
One day, the general manager invited us to an agents’ conference in Chitre, a small town about 3 ½ hours West of Panamá city. We first crossed a bridge over the canal, then admired the park-like residential area where the Americans lived before entering a lush countryside. The meeting was much like those I had seen in other Latin American countries: some pep talks, much drinks and food, and of course music.
The general manager was close to retirement, and we could see that he was not only highly respected but genuinely liked by the agents. He had the authority of a successful insurer and the invisible halo that distinguishes the local aristocracy. He introduced us the main agents and I suspect that he was not unhappy to produce foreigners who spoke Spanish and had some experience in marketing and sales. In any case, my wife met some charming ladies, and I had meaningful conversations before rum and scotch took over.
Some time after our visit, we heard that Alberto had left the company. The board appointed the chief accountant - someone from the country’s inner circle of power.
One day, I received a telegram from Alberto. I should immediately meet him in Panamá. He had found shareholders and needed reinsurance. Out of friendship, I made a stop over on the way to Ecuador. Alberto had divorced from his lovely wife and abandoned his three children. He was living in a flat with a Spanish woman. They offered me a drink, and he spoke with great enthusiasm about his new venture.
I asked a few questions, promised to have our technicians study the proposal and left for the airport.
Ten years later, after retirement, I was advising a foundation supporting small businesses, and they asked me to visit their offices in various Latin American countries. It so happened that in Panama the same evening they had a ceremony to honor successful entrepreneurs. These ladies and gentlemen were asked to stand on the stage. They were rewarded with a diploma, nice words and an envelope.
It was interesting to observe them. Some were timid, others ill at ease in front of a numerous public (their families). One of them stepped to the front and praised the foundation. He was proud of the success of his business that was made possible by the foundation.
I could not believe my eyes. It was Alberto and he was the owner of a company that cleaned the offices after work. I can imagine that he would have liked to clean more than dust and leftovers from the meals!
