How can you tell if it is going to be a long day? When it starts the way a joke does. So that morning a marketing director, a musician, and a computer programmer met at The Gates of Heaven. Only there was no St. Peter to greet them and ask questions since The Gates of Heaven -- Gates, for short -- was just one of those indiscreet coffeeshops downtown.

The marketing director was one Mr. Allan Chia. He was in the balding side of forty, serious looking, and whispering as if trying to be inconspicuous. In my opinion, in this kind of place trying to be inconspicuous was conspicuous. "What do you think? Can you do it?"

The musician was Yusof, a close friend of mine for the last five years. Always believing in himself, he and his band played twice a week in a pub a few doors down. He was conspicuous, with his long hair, earrings, and a red bandanna. And now he nodded full of confidence like he often did. "Of course he can, Allan. If he can't do it, noone can."

The computer programmer, of course, was myself. I studied Chia's hopeful face. Three hundred bucks a day did sound tempting. Having been without a job for almost seven months, I knew I should jump at it right away. "All right." That studious face brightened. "Can I have the fee up front?" It turned into a frown. "For the first five days?" I quickly added. Don't push your luck too far now, boy.

And Chia finally nodded. "It is settled, then. So I shall expect you today in my office, say, after lunch time?" I assured him that I would be there. "Very well. Here's my name card." And he stood up, followed by the two of us. "Good morning."

Naturally, we ordered another round of drinks to celebrate after the marketing director had left. And, as naturally, I paid. "Good luck, buddy," Yusof raised his glass. "Just find him whatever he wants you to find and get out of there."