Such a strange term and so AMERICAN Very Important Person. When I worked in Poland the managers often referred to me as a V.I.P. I am sure they used the acronym as a word and didn’t translate it as the three words. I thought it interesting but didn’t pay it any attention. Now I am at the festival and the woman who had secured covered seats for Bayara and me asked us to the VIP ger. It was set up in one end of the stadium. We entered and were given vodka shots or fermented mare’s milk. I chose the latter. We were seated on small stools while servants buzzed around the three of us.
Since I am not a habitue of ger VIP tents I asked a lot of questions, took pictures and praised the furnishings, the food, the beverages. Lots of smiles and indications this was on par with hanging out with Pope Francis. So we stayed a bit and then another VIP entered an older man in national dress with about 30 medals pinned to his chest. Turns out that in a Communist society where you don’t get any more money if you’re a star they give you medals. Practically everyone at the festival was wearing a medal for Best Banker , Best Electrician etc etc. The guy with all the medals was the best heavy equipment operator EVER.
I must have done something right because I was invited the next day by that lady’s husband, the governor, to come over to their house to have shots of cognac, some more fermented milk and to meet their friends. OH yes and to get my medals. Apparently I won best VIP at the festival. I have been wearing my medals ever since to continuous congratulations by wowed strangers just happy to be in my orbit.
I will expect the proper subservience when next we meet.
