Bodyguarding 300,000 NOK at half past eight in the morning

I had a really stressfull Friday morning. Would you like to hear about it?
a) Yes
b) Skip this post, dumbass!

So, I got up real early just to get to work at the time when I’m supposed to, 8.30 am. Me and my colleague, mr. Johan, were going to bodyguard 300,000 NOK downtown with the head of our institute. These money are payment to seven Jordan representatives from the Jordanian Bureau of Statistics who are visiting us next week. Now, 300K is not alot of money, but still it isn’t the kind of cash that you want to carry around in my hood. Our boss insisted on driving the short way, I didn’t mind, but when we got there – outside the bank – I, having a driver’s licence and all, was told to babysit the car, get the engine running and get the hell out of there if any traffic wardens would stroll by.

Now, there can be no doubt about me being the King of the Road. But that’s the North-Norwegian roads, and not downtown Oslo’s. Of course I’ve been driving in cities before, but that’s more than a year ago. In addition knowing your car is essential for a fast getaway. I used to drive my mother’s Volvo V70 (see the picture) which I could do asleep, but my boss’s brand new Renault with all these crazy, new gadgets; the key is a card and you press a ‘Start’ button to get the engine going; is completely unfamiliar in my roadside-experience.

My boss is kind of a hip person. That’s cool. Which is why he had the radio set on some youngster’s program with all kinds of R&B and westcoast hip-hop, which I can normally dig. But picture me, at half past eight in the morning, all nervous for police patrol cars and traffic wardens, in a brand new (highly suspicious) Renault outside one of downtown Oslo’s bigger banks listening to thumping gangster music looking at my watch every half minute. We’ve had alot of robberies in Norway this year, which only added to my dismay.

After about forty minutes they got back with a black suitcase stuffed with cash. I’d expected a maximum of fifteen minutes. I was sweating. But it was all over, I assumed, and relaxed a wee while.

.. ’till my boss took a wrong turn on Grønland, around where I live, where they’re always doing some construction on the roads, and I had to guide him through the maze I usually walk while intoxicated half past three in the morning. After alot of obstacles, nervousness and general sickness I could finally sit down with a cigarette and greet my morning routine. That is after me and my collague, mr. Johan, had counted all the cash and placed them neatly in seven identical envelopes.

Let’s hope the Jordan Bureau of Statistics can pay their workes themselves the next time they come to visit us, or else I’d just have to turn in sick.. Stress is a killer.