Mr. Professional

By Sori Siregar

From a distance I saw Karundeng coming from the west. I was standing in front of the gate of the parking building, waiting for him. With his hurried steps, he looked like a bullet zipping through the air. The winter temperature was five degrees below zero, forcing everyone to quickly escape from the misery of the cold. In front of the gate I had to keep jumping around and rubbing my hands to avoid the damned cold weather. My 'battle outfit' was forced to raise a white flag when the temperature dropped to below zero.

"Morning," he shouted as he was coming up to me.

"Morning."

Without any command, we started walking in a single file.

"Where did you park it?" I asked.

"Near the Skyline Inn."

"That far?"

"Tough luck."

Karundeng looked upset because he'd got a parking space so far away. Imagine, it was one kilometer away from our office.

"Still won't use the garage?"

Karundeng smiled and shrugged his shoulders.

"I'm a professional, Man."

The cliche answer once again irritated my eardrums. This time I had smiled. For twenty years Karundeng had been doing the same thing, moving his car from one place to another just to get a free parking space.

The streets around our office were lined with parking meters anxiously waiting for drivers to park their cars there.

For one hour parking, one had to pay fifty cents. Imagine, if someone had to use a metered-parking space eight hours every day, he would have to pay four dollars, wouldn't he? How much would he have to spend a month then, if he worked twenty-one days a month?

To spend eighty dollars a month on parking was simply too much for Karundeng. What was more, some of the regulations simply didn't make sense. One was allowed to use a parking space for not more than two hours. The cop would readily give a parking ticket to whoever had parked his car at the same space longer than the time allowed. If everyone in our office relied on the streets lined with parking meters, then he would have to move his car three times. What a nuisance.

For that very reason I had chosen a parking "warehouse" which, in spite of the distance, had a cheaper monthly rate. I only had to spend sixty dollars each month. This was twenty-one dollars cheaper than the cost of parking on the streets lined with parking meters. Although the place where I parked my car everyday was a three-story building complete with all the necessary parking facilities, I preferred to call it a "warehouse" because from outside it looked like a warehouse in a harbor.

Karundeng preferred using the principle of economy as far as parking a car was concerned. Under any conditions he had to get a free parking space. The economic principle he had been wedded to for twenty years had somehow penetrated into his bone marrow. Finding a free parking space, sometimes a long way from our office, had given him a special pleasure. For him, such hunting was an unyielding struggle for victory, especially if he managed to triumph in the Mall, the only parking area close to our office which had been turned into a field of battle.

The Mall was a large area stretching from the gate of the Capitol Building to that of the Lincoln Memorial. The famous Smithsonian Institution buildings flanked both sides of the broad Mall. It was the streets on both sides that were open for motorists, including my friend Karundeng, to park their cars there.

As far as I knew, Karundeng had never won the struggle for a parking space in the Mall first thing in the morning. He had to continue his battle farther away, even as far as the street in front of the Skyline Inn, where he had parked his car this morning.

Unfortunately, even along the streets with no parking meters people were allowed to park their cars for only two hours. This meant that from the Skyline Inn Karundeng had to engage in another battle two hours later.

The Mall was usually his second target. As soon as he had entered that broad arena, Karundeng had to keep a watchful eye open. Driving his car slowly, he was ready to grab a parking space that someone had just left vacant. The space Karundeng would try to take was the one about to be vacated by another driver, who afterwards would do the same thing as Karundeng, keeping his eyes open ready to grab a new space.

Karundeng had been playing such a watching game for two decades. Nevertheless, such a routine had not robbed him of the pleasure he got from it everyday. He even managed to safely dodge the office's strict time rules. Safely, because Karundeng did not do it all by himself. Some of his colleagues were secretly standing in line behind him and formed an equally persistent commando squad. The members of Karundeng's squad had gone through different times of struggling. Some of them had done it for just two years. Others had five years' experience, and still others had ten years. Obviously Karundeng had had the longest battle and thus he was regarded as the most senior. It was natural that Karundeng himself thought he was the most professional.

"Regar, are you still stuck to that warehouse?" he asked.

"Yes."

"Don't you ever think it's too much of a burden for you?"

"I should ask you the same question, shouldn't I?"

Karundeng laughed. Without him realizing it, I had to scurry just to keep up with hid darting steps. Our office building was only a few meters away.

"Regar, you mustn't act rich here."

"But, your salary. It's four times as much as mine. And your car is five times more expensive than mine. Isn't it strange that I put my car in a garage while you don't?"

He burst into laughter as he reached for a pen to write down his name and signature in the sign-in book lying in front of the building's guard.

When I started working in this city, I once tried to wait and grab a free parking space for my car. But my endurance only lasted two days. Ever since then the three-story parking building had been my regular parking space. I just didn't want to be the slave of my car. On the contrary, I'd bought it to serve me and speed up my trips to and from the office, not to make me its slave.

I'd rather spend sixty of seventy dollar out of my pocket so that my car could indeed serve me. Thus, it was not for me to serve my car by moving it every two hours. If Karundeng's "struggle" were the only alternative, I'd rather not have a car at all. Traveling the distance between home and office would be equally efficient if I took a bus or a subway.

The expansion of the parking lot at the Hubert Humphrey Building blew some fresh air in for Karundeng. As the most senior official in our department, he was given a special parking space. For free.

The eight-story building was located right next to our office. At first the parking lot was located in the basement, which was connected to our office by a tunnel.

The new parking lot was constructed on a piece of land that had functioned as a park in front of the Hubert Humphrey Building. Karundeng's parking space was located in the old parking lot in the basement. As a matter of fact, Karundeng was lucky because he could leave his car there and leisurely step into the tunnel and on to our office without any trouble.

So, in the bone-penetrating cold of winter, or in the midst of a snowstorm, or in the merciless, pouring rain, Karundeng could simply walk into our office whistling, without having to struggle against any obstacles.

"Karundeng, you're lucky," I said.

The man with snow-white hair laughed.

"We'll just see," he answered without looking cheerful at all.

The lucky Karundeng no longer had to struggle for a parking space like a rat fighting for food. Now he came to the office with a pleasant sense of certainty. Yet, he looked just as he usually did, as if nothing had happened to bring him luck.

"Karundeng, how about my sharing your luck once in a while?"

He looked at me nonplused.

"What do you mean?"

"If you happen to be on vacation, why don't you give me your parking space?"

"Are you serious?"

"Yes. I'll pay you if you want. Provided you give me a discount."

Unexpectedly he came up to me.

"Regar, don't think I'm happy about it. No! I'm not happy. If you want it, I can just give the space to you. The ID card I have has no name or photo anyway. You can use the space any time you want."

"Regar, you may start using it tomorrow."

"Your vacation starts tomorrow?"

"No. Beginning tomorrow, I'd like to give you the space. In that way you'll save sixty or seventy dollars a month. Not bad, is it?"

As soon as he had spoken these words, he went back to his desk and opened the drawer. Holding a card, he came up to me.

"I'm giving this card to you for nothing."

"Deng, you're crazy. I was just kidding."

"Regar, take it. I really want to give you the card. For the last two weeks at least, I've had this gnawing conscience."

"You've only used it for one month, haven't you?"

"Just one month."

There was a smile on his face as he looked at me. Then the words rolled out smoothly.

"You will never understand how difficult it is for me."

"Karundeng."

He waved at me not to ask any more questions.

"Twenty years is not a short time. A whole nation could have developed in that time. For twenty years I've develop my daily habit. All of a sudden I have to make a drastic change. God knows I've tried, Regar. In the long run I might make it, but I simply can't stand it now. I've only been parking my car there for just two weeks, and I've begun to suffer. So I decided to give the space away to anyone who would be willing to take it. After making a strict review of all our colleagues, I have decided that you're the right man. And then, a minute ago you might have been kidding when you asked me to give you the space during my vacation. This is quite a coincidence, and I'm really glad."

"Karundeng."

He repeated the gesture to keep my mouth shut. Then he handed the card to me.

"I'm a professional, remember?"

Karundeng went away laughing.

The next morning Karundeng returned to the rhythm of his old way of life. He had to fight for a bit of space for his car. He experienced the pleasure of doing it. At least that's what he told me. As a colleague, of course I didn't want to rob him of that pleasure by returning the card he'd just given me.

Nevertheless, I also had an unshakable conviction. One day Karundeng would change his mind and want the card back. When that happened, it was none of my business.

I put the card Karundeng had given me in my desk and continued parking in the old warehouse. But now I had a heavy burden on my shoulders. How would I be able to keep that secret so that Karundeng could go on enjoying the scrapping he wanted to have?

Translated by K.Z. Suryawinata

Sori Siregar was born in Medan, North Sumatra, in November 1939, by the name of Sori Sutan Sivori Siregar. Since 1960 he has been a frequent contributor to Indonesia's leading journals. He had worked as international broadcaster and attended the International Writing Program at Iowa University. His publications include Dosa Atas Manusia (Sins Against Men), Wanita itu adalah Ibuku (That Woman is my Mother) and Awal Pendakian (Start of the Ascent).