Chapter 14: First Grade
A bright spot on the façade of the old warehouse was the bright lettering on the wooden board that said, "Anderson and Co. Import and Export." Adjacent to it, an American flag limply responded to the sea breeze on a makeshift pole.
The door was open, revealing a dimly lit room and letting out the scents of oil and a myriad of cargo. I spotted my target behind a small desk in the corner. Even from outside the door, I could hear the clacking of his typewriter as he bit on a cigarette. When he took a break, he leaned back in the chair, let out a puff of smoke, and stared at the pile of papers and ledgers around him with a sigh.
My heart almost jumped out of my chest when a pair of Filipino workers emerged from the door carrying a crate. I stepped out of their way, but not out of their notice.
"Señor!" one of them hollered to the agent before scurrying towards the docks.
Left with no choice, I fixed my coat and walked in.
What the door did not let me see from the outside were the stacks of crates, piles of sacks, and barrels stored on the other side of the room. Another man, burlier and older than the agent, was talking loudly with a Chinese merchant, a clipboard in hand. Both communicated in broken English and seemed to think that increasing their volume would somehow help translate English to Chinese.
The dock agent's eyes lazily went up to greet me as he leaned on the table to use the ashtray.
He muttered beneath his breath, "What am I going to do with you? We don't have translators. Merchants should come accompanied by a translator. Of course, you don't even understand me, do you?"
He smiled at me. "Do you reckon we should use their method? Talk as loudly as we can until we understand each other?"