or “It was a clustrfu—, but a tremendous learning experience.”
June - July, 1981
My first trip to Riyadh, Saudi Arabia, came at the request of E.V. Kuhlman (CEO St. Anthony Hospital System - Denver) and John Yates (CEO of Int’l. Hospital Services) who asked me to go with Doug Cleveland (Dr. Henry Cleveland’s son) and put together a bid to manage the Riyadh-Al Kharj Hospital Project for the Ministry of Defense & Aviation (MODA). The “project” was the MODA hospital in Riyadh, along with some polyclinics and a larger clinical facility in Al Kharj.
The wife was six months pregnant and I had concerns about leaving her. But, as always, she encouraged me to go.
We traveled over with David Legg (Houston contact of Yates) and Essam Obeid (Saudi agent). They went First Class and we were in the back of the bus. The two of them impressed me as a shady pair (which they ultimately were), but we went along and did have a good time and saw a couple of sights in London. Sidebar memory of that was Cleveland asking for an English Muffin in the Mayfair Hotel restaurant and being told by the lovely waitress that there was no such thing.
We arrived in Riyadh, at the old airport downtown (now an RSAF base, and home to the AWACs). It was after midnight, and the airport was small, very hot (summer in Riyadh) and intensely overcrowded. The customs agents went through everything we had, which really panicked Doug when they wanted to know what his aspirin were. They smelled fear and went for it…which I think they really enjoyed. Anyway, we finally cleared customs, found our way out of the airport and into wall-to-wall people with signs and pushing for taxis.
We found our guy with the sign and were taken to a beautiful black Mercedes 500 and deposited in the back seat. It was then that I noticed our large dark skinned driver had scars (tribal marks, I later found out) down both cheeks and spoke no English. I wondered what it would be like to disappear in Saudi Arabia. When I looked over his shoulder and realized that we were going 70-80 mph through the streets of Riyadh, I wondered what it would be like to die in Saudi Arabia.
Never fear though, we arrived at the most beautiful Marriott Hotel I had ever seen, and were greeted with nothing but customer service and grace, and shown to our rooms. It was around 2-3 am, and the lobby was full of people eating and sipping non-alcoholic beverages. Ramadan had just begun, I was told. I was more tired then curious, and I should have been curious - and also should have researched customs, culture, etc., better.
It was the next morning when we learned what Ramadan meant. There was nowhere to get anything to eat and we were hungry – at least for coffee. After talking with the front desk clerk, and walking around the hotel and wondering what to do, one of the bellman told me to go to my room and leave the door open. What the heck? Sure, why not. About 10 minutes later the door burst open and he came charging in with a tray of coffee and breakfast rolls. Welcome to Ramadan in Riyadh. He got a good tip, and a steady daily routine for the duration.
When we found our way to the MODA hospital, we also found out that we were too late for the bidders conference (no, no one gave us an agenda or schedule, we were winging it….) and would not be able to tour the facilities. I was steamed. Not with the Saudis, but with our logistics & planning and lack of both. At that point, I realized this was a learning experience and cultural growth education. Business practices aside, we came to know about everything closing 5 times a day for prayer, no eating from sun up to sun set, maniacal driving, tea and OJ as a way of business, and Bukra, Inshallah, ma’lesch, the "Saudi IBM".
We did, however, get copies of the RFP materials and information and we asked a lot of questions of the people we met. One of them was Brenda (I cannot remember her last name), who was the hospital librarian. She was American and ultimately offered to give us a tour of the hospital. However, we had to wear name badges (which she just happened to produce) and carry papers to look like we were doing something. We wandered the hospital and saw enough to make some impressions.
When the tour was over, Brenda invited us to join her and her husband for dinner that evening. Her husband was an obnoxious Brit and during the meal proceeded to tell us that Americans were lesser people, and had never suffered enough to appreciate anything. That didn’t sit well with Doug and soon the evening devolved into a wonderful argument. We thanked Brenda for a lovely meal and entertainment and somehow found our way to a taxi and back to the Marriott.
After a week or so of scrambling data and information and getting it back to Houston for the bid preparation, I received a call somewhere around 3 am, from Jerry Lowery (Yates VP) who told me that we would not be submitting a bid because they could not arrange the financing for the bid bond. The bid bond was simply a financial guarantee that if a company is awarded the contract, they can deliver on it. Standard SOP. Another “duh” moment. Another livid conversation with the home office about “planning”.
So, Doug and I had several free days to spend in Riyadh, during Ramadan, until our flight back. We rented a car and had a good time exploring Riyadh and buying souvenirs, and it really was a great experience both for learning and for cultural growth.
I never realized it was the first ….
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