"The Customer is always right" they tell me. Well on this occasion, I am not sure that the customer was right. It was around summer 1997 and I was still living and working in the UK. The Managing Director of one of my customers decided he wanted to visit our production site in Belgium.

"I need to do an audit" he said. And who was I to argue with him ... after all, it is our company policy that any customer visiting a production site should be accompanied by the relevant Sales Manager, which in this case was me. And as I was always looking for any excuse to visit Belgium, this was a perfect opportunity to visit Beer Heaven. So the necessary arrangements were made for the audit and hotel rooms booked in Hasselt. For those who don't know, Hasselt is the "capital" of Limburg province and the nearest town of any size to our production site.

So to set the scene, the MD of the customer is called Dave. Well actually he's not called Dave, but for the purposes of this story, we will call him Dave. I would usually say that I have changed his name to "protect the innocent", but as will be revealed, Dave is anything but innocent !! Dave is about the same age as me ... 31 at the time of these events ... and inherited his MD position from his father who had recently retired. That isn't to say that Dave was a "spoilt little rich boy". He ran, and in fact still does run, his family's business very successfully. Like me, Dave was also very keen on visiting Belgium as often as possible. But unlike me, it was not the beer that attracted Dave to the Low Countries ... as you will find out !!

So we decided to go for a bit of a pub crawl around Hasselt. Dave seemed to favour a Hoegaarden, but with a slice of lemon in it.

"It's the latest trend" he told me, "and very refreshing".

"Is it really ??" I responded, somewhat unconvinced. As it was going to be a long night, I decided to also go with the Hoegaarden ... but hold the lemon if you don't mind please Mr. Barman. Anyway, to cut a long story short, several hours and numerous Hoegaardens later, at about 1.00am we decided it was time to call it a night and staggered back to the hotel for a nights sleep ... or so I thought. It turned out that Dave had "other" idea's. No sooner had we stepped into the hotel than Dave said:

"Is there not somewhere else we can go ??" As we had just left a perfectly good café that was probably going to be open for at least another couple of hours, I was a little surprised by this question ... but remember "the customer is always right".

"We can go back to that café if you like ??" I suggested. Dave just gave me a knowing look and said:

"No, no, I mean ... somewhere else". Still the penny didn't drop.

"Its Wednesday night Dave. I don't think there will be any night clubs open tonight" I suggested helpfully. And then he just came out with it ...

"Are there no Girly bars in Hasselt ??"

Ker-plunk .... the penny finally dropped. He wanted to go to one of those awful dimly lit "cafés" with the ultra violet and red strip lighting ... a knocking shop ... a brothel ... call it what you want. You get the picture. Shit, come on Mark, think of an excuse .... "Erm ... I dont know Dave. Anyway I havent got much money left. Let's just call it a night eh ??" I offered hopefully. But Dave had got the bit between his teeth ... or between his legs as the case may be.

"Dont worry about money, I 've got plenty. Lets jump in a taxi. The taxi driver will know somewhere."

What could I do. I really didn't want to go to some shady dive offering ladies that look like Clint Eastwood in a dress. But ... the customer is always right.

"Well OK, but as long as you dont expect me to do anything but have a couple of drinks and make polite conversation". I said nervously.

"No problem. But I've got money if you want to .... ".

"Er, no Dave. I definitely dont want to." So with more than a little trepidation Horny Dave and I jumped in the taxi. And of course the taxi driver did "know somewhere" ... a real shithole on the main road between Hasselt and Genk. We walked in to find two scantily clad "women" (I use the term "women" in the loosest possible sense) sitting at the bar, already occupied by two men. We took a seat at a table and a woman, bearing a remarkable resemblance to Jack Palance in a wig, came over and took our order and asked if we were interested in buying the "ladies" a drink. "Maybe later" said Dave. Maybe never I thought to myself. Then as we were drinking, another man walked in. He was quite tall and wearing a long brown leather "army style" trench coat. He walked straight over to the bar and put his arm around both girls, much to the annoyance of their two male partners. And also to the annoyance of Dave apparently, who started to say things like

"Who is that wanker??" in a rather loud voice. In fact loud enough for the "wanker" to hear.

"Don't worry, he wont understand me" said Dave. But like most Flemish people, it was no surprise to learn he spoke perfect English. In fact he came over and introduced himself:

"Good evening Gentlemen" he said as he sat down next to Dave. "What brings you to Belgium ... business or pleasure". Dave seemed completely relaxed with our new friend.

"A bit of both actually" said Dave, "Are the girls any good here ??"

"My girls are the best" came the response. It was now clear that our new friend was the bar owner and the girl's "pimp".

"Can I get you gentlemen a drink ??". There was something in this man's eyes that told me he was not quite .... erm .... normal. The lights were on, but no-one was home.

What followed over the next 30 minutes will remain in my memory forever. The conversation seemed to be going amicably enough ... until our friend got talking about his background. "I used to be in the world's second most feared army" he told us. "The French Foreign Legion is the most feared army in the world. I used to be a Belgian Paratrooper, second only to the Foreign legion". I was going to mention the British SAS, but something stopped me. In fact, a pistol stopped me. He didn't actually draw the gun, but he made it VERY clear to Dave and I that he was packing what looked like a pretty useful hand-gun. At this point, I have no reservations in telling you that my chin must have hit the floor. However, what surprised me more than the sight of the gun was Dave's reaction. "That looks like a nice weapon. Do you mind if I have a look ??".

WHAT ????? Help me, I am surrounded by psychopaths. This was either a very serious case of double bluff from Dave, or he was comfortable with having a gun pulled on him !! "No, I never take it out unless I REALLY have to" came the reply. "I don't have to take it out do I Gentlemen ??" he asked. The look in his eyes was erm ... interesting.

"No, no, we are harmless Englishmen ... no problems with us" said Dave, still unbelievably calm compared to the nervous wreck that was myself!!! "Let me buy you a drink to show we are friendly" offered Dave. "That's very kind of you". He responded. At this point Captain Psycho of the Belgian Paratroopers went off to the toilet. It was then that I discovered that despite his calm exterior, Dave was also crapping himself. He went to the bar to buy the drinks, at the same time giving the barmaid 2000 Francs "tip" (around £35 or $55) to order us a taxi as soon as possible. VERY thankfully, there must have been a taxi very nearby, because it pulled up outside before the Captain returned from counting his bullets and polishing his gun in the bathroom. I don't think I have moved so fast in all my life. Without looking back, we were out of the door, in the taxi and heading back up the road to Hasselt.

There are lessons to be learnt here:
1) Do not visit Belgian cafés that have ultra-violet and red light strips in the windows.
2) All Belgians speak English. Even psychopaths.
3) The customer is NOT always right.

Mark Caygill. April 2001.