This is a guest post by the love of my life, my wife Alexandra. Her passion for running is a great source of inspiration, as are her achievements! Our kids and me are enormously proud of her, although we begin to worry what on earth might be her next “running goal”

As some of you may know, I have a passion for running – it is an essential part of my life. Any run will do to lift the spirit, whether short or long, easy or difficult. What makes running buzzy and exciting is setting a goal and pursuing it. As a matter of fact, running turned from mere exercise to a fun part of the day, when I started running with a stopwatch, and was able to benchmark myself.

Running a marathon (please read her post from last year)  will always remain the ultimate challenge as not even the most experienced athlete can ever be sure of actually finishing, and even less of performing well. However during the year I stumbled across an event that intrigued me and I decided to go for it: Greece’s first and only mountain run during nighttime.

The run specifics read as follows:
Place: Mount Pelion (340 km north of Athens). Distance 16,1 km. Start time: 9pm. Max time to complete: 5 hours. Course profile: 8 km downhill – then 8,1 km uphill. Total elevation gain: 940 meters (or 3083 feet)

I am a city girl and admittedly I had no idea what to expect from a mountain trail or indeed an elevation gain of 940 meters. My perspective upon reading this was the following: I race 16 km in less than 1 hour 15 minutes. So I added another 15 minutes for the eventuality of having a bad day on the day and another 30 minutes to account for mountain difficulties. I sure ran up every Athenian ascent to train for it. I concluded that two hours would be an almost ridiculously generous estimate, for basically 8 uphill kilometers – after all, how hard could the first 8km be?

About 50 people signed up for the run. The communication, place and character of the event were all very low profile. I therefore presumed this to be an amateur happening, organized by local mountain run lovers looking for some fun. I envisioned the bib numbers being written up on A4 paper at the start line, latter being a chalk mark on the ground, medical care being restricted to a selection of different size plasters and the supply station actually being the forest fountain for water.

I enquired insistently about how the trail would be marked out. During such small events the crowd very quickly dissolves to everyone’s own pace, so you run mostly on your own, and I was terrified of the oversight of a turn in the darkness, amidst endless forest, at the top of a mountain, with no-one around to ask for directions.

Well, none of my expectations turned out right!

The organizer turned out being a celebrity in his field: Nikos Magitsis is the only Greek mountaineer having completed the Seven Summits. He is also a successful trail runner of international caliber – he has qualified and will to take part at the prestigious Mont Blanc Ultra Marathon on August 27th, 2010. He is nothing if not genuine – a very gentle man with immense love and respect for the mountains, nature, and trailing sports. He organizes such runs because of his devotion to the sport, and to give like-minded people the opportunity to experience such runs in a conscientiously organized environment. Professionalism and a deep sense of duty are evident already within the first moments of meeting him.

The starting point was almost at the mountaintop. For the start and finish line a gigantic bright orange blow-up gate had been set up, there were loud music, an ambulance, lots of helpers setting up the party afterwards and a euphoric running crowd warming up, with headlamps. It was dusk and the stunning views reached all the way down to the sea. For the record, my bib number was not handwritten, but was made of highly resilient, waterproof material, to withstand all mountain weather conditions – best quality bib I’ve come across so far.

Some runners carried the full range of available specialized gear for such events. Running rucksacks, camel packs (= drink bags), trekking poles, compression socks. The latter look quite funny. They are tight fitting, over-the-calf socks aimed at improving oxygen delivery to muscles and lead to greater muscle efficiency. I have no idea if it works. Apparently even compression underwear exists, but judging from the squeezy look of the socks, I would not really want to test that, and I am a woman.

Nikos answered my worries about getting lost with the well-natured quote he apparently has used before (and I was informed worriers have always been women): “There is absolutely no way that you will get lost – none! But if you DO get lost, don’t tell anyone because they will think you are an idiot.” I frowned at this, but during the run I had to laugh at myself. The markings were indeed absolutely idiot-proof. There were signs, reflectors and ribbons in the trees every 5 meters, as well as huge red arrows on the ground. In a trail not even known to Google Earth, it was an unmistakably delineated course. A fantastic achievement over 16 km in the dark!

The event was clearly not a competition. Everybody was in it for the challenge of finishing. The only rival was oneself and possibly the forest life we were warned about with the sentence: “if you hear anything running next to you and it doesn’t have a headlamp, don’t’ worry, it’s just a wild boar.”

For many – as for me – it was their first mountain run, and for everyone it was their first run in the darkness. We turned on our headlamps and off we went. Very soon, we were in the deep night. And soon after that, I was on already running alone.

Upon arriving at the first supply station, I found it to be a small oasis: there was light, a guy cheering up all runners as they arrived, music, nuts, crisps, energy drinks and gels – you name it, they had it. I wouldn’t be surprised if they handed out a whiskey if asked for one. Incidentally, there was no fountain in sight. It was all bottled stuff. Nikos took care of us.

I don’t know if there are adequate words to describe the trail and the feeling during the run. The course itself was made up of 30% dirt road and 70% mountain trail. The trail varied from dried up rivers that one could barely walk through because of the huge rocks to narrow paths that were less than 30 cm wide, where one could only do small steps not seeing their feet as vegetation was up to the waist.

I reached the bottom in 54 minutes. On a flat course I am already in my 12th km at that time. But the descent was, at times, so steep that I could either only progress sideways almost fearing the release of a landslide, or slowly slide-down the path because of the boulder. My thighs were sore from the strength it took to support me during this part.

I then commenced the climb, and it was literally that. Every so often I had to heave myself up from the surrounding tree branches. The concept of “running” was a joke, as even just walking was barely possible. Due to the complete darkness there was no indication of what was to come in the trail and where the end of a trail section was. On top of that, there was an utter lack of feeling for how much a distance one had covered, because no steady pace was possible.

At a forest plateau after what seemed like hours, a guy appeared completely unexpectedly and asked: “everything alright?” I was so concentrated on my effort, that it took me a moment to orientate, and to place him as one of the organizers, just checking on runners. I asked: “how long to go?” And he said: “3 km…..” My mental state was alert enough, to deduce that this meant I was just at 13 km – I honestly felt more like having done 33 km.

I did not experience the last trauma in this run, though: When I finally saw afar the finish line I started my homerun. There were noises to my right, and I turned to check them out. Hundreds of bright yellow spots reflecting on my headlamp light faced me, and immediately a huge noise followed, as the completely shocked goat herd started fleeing all at once in random directions. They must have wondered, what on earth was going on in their forest, that night!

The first woman to cross the finish line did so in 2 hours exactly. I followed second, not a minute too soon, in 2 hours 35 minutes and was just thrilled to have made it. The last runner came in after 5 hours 8 minutes.

When I arrived, the party was already going on, as lots of the runners’ families had come to celebrate their achievement with them. The atmosphere was wonderful; the crowd was relaxed and joyful, the mood easygoing and there were food and drink in abundance.

Nikos had even organized a winner’s ceremony with medals and cups. The great thing about that was that my kids thought their Mami (mum) was the greatest, for bringing home such a huge, shiny “second place” cup.

Upon leaving I genuinely thanked Nikos and his whole team of volunteers for everything. He assured me that the pleasure and fun were all his and that was his reason for doing it, every time. As a matter of fact, he would be getting married in September and was trying to convince his wife-to-be to just do a running event followed by a party like that one, instead of organizing another cliché reception.

Now, that’s original thinking, but quite a hard qualifier, to get to see the bride! I don’t know if under circumstances possibly requiring you to run up Mount Olymp in order to attend the ceremony, you really want to be on the guest list

I left Mount Pelion with the lingering feeling, that this was without a doubt the best organized, warm, friendly, intimate and definitely most fun event I have ever taken part in. It’s in such moments, that I am immensely proud of being Greek and of having such compatriots. Niko, kick butt at Mont Blanc! See you next year.

Many other stories about life in Greece can be found in the only in Greece column.

My wife’s and my ID cards recently expired, and a dear family friend volunteered to get it renewed for us. Our friend, Katerina, is a lady who has during her entire lifetime held jobs, where “organising business environments to utmost efficiency” has been the key concept.

Katerina arrived at the association’s premises, at a dingy and humid basement, at exactly the advertised opening time of 17:30 p.m. The helpful volunteer staffing the office arrived about 20 minutes late, and people outside had already started queuing.

The crowd literally jumped on the elderly lady, and everyone demanded noisily to be served first. The lady was clearly lost and besieged in her desire to assist everyone. She must have been doing this job until then purely on the account of her angelic patience and stoicism, not by her resolution effectiveness.

Katerina stepped up to her and asked: “Would you like some help?”

The offer was greeted first by silence, then by disbelief, and very soon by relief: “Please, have a seat, do you think, you would be able to fill out these forms, as per instructions?” Katerina obliged, and it came naturally to her to instantly start suggesting a few filing improvements. The lady was delighted. They went on both happily working away, giving out coupons, distributing food, and filling out forms.

Katerina spent 4 hours at the office. At 10 p.m. the crowds had been dealt with, and she was ready to leave. The lady couldn’t thank her enough and started giving Katerina food to take along, to show her gratitude. Katerina declined, but left her phone number with the instruction that she could be called at any point, and if she had time, she would immediately come and help out. 

In the past, Katerina had on numerous occasions offered to do volunteer work by addressing relevant bodies directly, like the management of orphanages, blind homes, elderly homes, and was frustrated that she never got a response. In the setting where she was just helping out another fellow citizen, she finally got her volunteer work. Her concluding remark about her experience was: “This lady is extremely nice, all she wants to do is help other people, even if they are rude. The problem is that she is too disorganised to do so, and I will get her up and running efficiently over the next few weeks.”

Two “good” people had met, who both fit in extremely well into this country’s profile and mentality: The genuinely helpful volunteer, who fulfils a job despite lacking qualifications, and Katerina, the truly caring human being! I can assure you that there are lots of both types of these people in Greece.

My friend happily built away. The project finished and business bloomed. He sold quite a few apartments and made some money along the way. Only four remained unsold, and the only decision that remained was which ones to keep.

He prepared his annual tax declaration for 2008 and as a citizen of good faith detailed all data relevant to his undertaking. In this country, the attitude towards tax authorities is intensely defensive: The golden rule is to keep and maintain a low profile. You don’t want them taking second and third looks into your affairs, because they are bound to find something devastating that they will be able to turn against the most law-abiding citizen. You keep things simple and clear, in order to avoid having to submit additional information.
 
Being a young generation guy, my friend was very enthusiastic about the fact that tax authorities had recently begun offering the option to citizens to submit their tax forms via the Internet, and that was exactly what he did. He advertised its simplicity to me on a number of occasions, and we praised the government for such forward thinking.

In October last year, a tax official called him and implied that some clarifications were needed. He suggested that my friend would visit him at his office on the following Monday, which was St. Dimitris day. This also happened to be the tax officials name day – a day when presents are given. My friend wondered a bit about this coincident but he followed the “advise”. As soon as he entered the office of the tax official, he saw himself confronted with a very grumpy guy asking lots of questions about the construction. The suspicion was voiced that my friend was not an individual investing his savings, but in reality was operating a construction company that he just didn’t declare as one. Such a company would belong to a completely different tax regime.

Upon my friend’s wonderment why anyone would get the idea that such a complicated scenario could apply, the tax official replied that ONLY people who have something to hide would submit the tax forms via the Internet. There would obviously be a price if he were to not ask further questions. After some toing and froing it was agreed that the tax official would receive 3000 Euros immediately, and another 3000 Euros at the beginning of the next year. My friend felt that this agreement was the only way to get the tax official off his back. At the same time, there was no guarantee that this blackmailing would stop.

Since the first payment a few months ago, Greece has been the center of a massive financial crisis that threatens the whole EU. The government is implementing many new and serious measures to reform the economy and reduce public spending, including a radical reform of the taxation system.

The second payment of 3000 Euros was due last week. Some days ago I received a triumphant phone call of my friend. The government had officially implemented the following measure to counter corruption:

Whoever points out blackmail by tax officials to the authorities will receive five times that amount from the authorities and will receive full tax immunity. My friend has been waiting for a phone call from the tax official who blackmailed him ever since with a smug smile on his face, and is almost sad that his phone remains silent….

Update: Also read this Spiegel article to put things into perspective…

Yesterday I received an email by the Embassy Counsellor of Economy and Trade for the Greek embassy in Berlin! He pointed me to a provision in the law stating that if a person with a foreign last name is already known with a spelling other than the one that the transliteration rules provides, then documents proving that claim can be submitted and the new Greek passport will then bear that name.

He also kindly sent me the ministerial decree mentioning several aspects regarding the issuance of passports, pointed me to the relevant pages, and advised me on the best action to take. In addition, we had a lively exchange of thoughts about the promotion of Greek wines abroad.

I am impressed by the actions of the Embassy Counsellor. He read my blog and responded, investing time and energy to help. This is very generous and moving. He obviously shares my motto “listen, engage, share”. I am sure he would make one hell of a blogger.  Fittingly enough, his first name is Dionyssis, who in Greek methodology is the god of wine.

At the Greek embassy, there was the usual form filling. My Greek wife did not hesitate one bit about writing my daughter’s name in the Greek letters that sounded most like the German original. I need to explain the Greek alphabet a bit:

“STOLZ” is pronounced “STOLTS” in German. There is no single letter in Greek corresponding to the German “Z” as a “TS” – the Greek “Z” is spoken like a soft “S”, i.e. like the “Z” in the word lizard. So “STOLZ” in Greek letters would be pronounced “STOLS”.

Therefore, to maintain the sound of the name correctly, the birth certificate entry was as follows: ΣΟΦΙΑ ΣΤΟΛΤΣ (i.e. phonetically SOFIA STOLTS). When our other children were born, we used the same method.
 
Years later we moved to Greece and we wanted to get my daughter a full Greek passport, in addition to her already held German one. My wife filled out the necessary forms, submitted all relevant documents like the Greek and British birth certificates (which clearly state the Latin name “STOLZ”, paid an immense amount of money and was sent away with the instruction to pick up the newly issued Greek passport a few weeks later.

When we got the passport back, the name section read as follows:
Name (Greek characters): ΣΟΦΙΑ ΣΤΟΛΤΣ
Name (Latin characters): SOFIA STOLTS
 
Our look was blank. My daughter’s name in Latin characters firstly and foremost is: SOPHIA STOLZ. What had happened to that? We got in touch with the authorities, to understand why the Latin spelling had been altered. We got the same answer, on every door we knocked:  For the Greek authorities, the only valid way to write a name into a Greek passport, is its Greek spelling on the birth certificate, and THAT is then translated, phonetically on a letter by letter basis into Latin characters.
 
We tried our best to convince the passport authority, that this was all wrong. STOLZ was around long before STOLTS was invented Besides, how can the same person have two passports, a German and a Greek one, with two different legitimate Latin names? We were asked to consider changing the German one. How is one to argue with that?
 
The solution was a bureaucratic Odyssey, whereby a court order was issued to correct the birth certificates of all our children. We succumbed to spelling it “ΣΤΟΛΖ”, which is of course pronounced “STOLS” in Greek, but was the only choice to achieve the correct Latin spelling “STOLZ”. Then the whole passport issuing procedure was started all over. The surname is saved.

At their school everyone wonders about that weird sounding surname: Stols. The question “shouldn’t it be STOLTS?” comes up all the time….

A surprising update can be found here.

Last Saturday Mr. Papandreou sent out a tweet. I noticed that he follows “only” 18 people, among them Angela Merkel, the German chancellor. Unfortunately, this was an obvious fake account, used to send out satirical tweets. To be fair, the tweets are in the German language, nevertheless, postings like “I am fed up with life” or “Please do not vote for me again” leave little room for interpretation. I alerted Mr. Papandreou via twitter about this somewhat embarrassing fact. Within minutes, I received a Direct Message from his web team, thanking me for my support and asking me for the official twitter account for Mrs. Merkel. The fake account had been swiftly unfollowed.

I openly stated on twitter that I was impressed with how quickly the Papandreaou team had taken action. I also suggested that Mr. Papandreou should follow me instead, in order to engage in a conversation on how the government could support the promotion of Greek wines abroad. This resulted in the following tweet by jasonswineblog, who is based in the US:

In the meantime, I had verified that the German Chancellor does not use twitter at all. However, one of the current shooting stars in her political party does. Julia Kloeckner is using this medium in a very professional way. I suggested her account to Mr. Papandreou, and he did indeed start following her. 

This is a great example of how useful twitter can be, and how engaging many of its users are. The Greek Prime Minister got rid of an embarrassing fake account, replaced it with somebody truly worth watching, and gained a few followers along the way – thanks kalofagas and michalaki for getting involved.  

And who knows? Although the Greek Prime Minister has not heeded my advice to follow me , maybe he will give the promotion of Greek wines abroad some serious thoughts. If he wishes to engage, he knows now where to find me.

In the mid-nineties, most European citizens were using mobile phones primarily as a professional tool, because of the costs associated with them. Not so the Greeks – on Greek beaches, the buzz of ringtones came from all directions. As Greeks also speak much louder on the phone, this marked the end of the peaceful tranquillity.

In the early days of mobile telephony, the mobile phone itself was clearly a status symbol. The mania that gripped a large percentage of the population demonstrates the Greek’s yearning for the feeling of importance. Greeks are also by nature very communicative, and the mobile phone brought to them the freedom from the restrictions of the landline. Now they were able to communicate all day long. This communication luxury was not to be halted by any imposed charges by the mobile phone companies. Today, the average Greek owns more than two kinito connections. Nearly every job nowadays comes with the benefit of a company mobile phone; this is a standard offering even for small businesses.

The kinito is present everywhere, in the most trivial daily acts. It is an instinctive Greek reaction to use it, whenever possible, in any possible way. For example, there is a driveway into our property. Nine out of then visitors will not step out of the car to ring the bell. Instead, they use their kinito to ring the house, in order for us to open the front gate. The tenth is likely one of our less mainstream acquaintances. This has become a character judgment criterion for us: Whoever rings the bell on a cold, rainy day is stricken off our friends’ list; that is just too weird!

Greeks do value personal relationships very highly. Business is done through face-to-face meetings, and Greeks embrace all personal contact. That is, until their kinito rings.

Click to read more stories about everyday life in Greece.

The criterion to qualify for becoming polyteknos used to be “four or more children” however about four years ago this was extended to “three or more children”, whereby three children families have some restrictions. It’s a bit confusing whether the condition was relaxed because the lower birthrate has made 4-children-families almost extinct, or whether it brought in 3-children-family votes, as it happened to be an election campaign promise, and those who promised it, won.

The state support benefits are varied, such as cheaper public transport, discounted state services, including cultural offerings like museums, ancient sites etc, and – an issue that most Greeks find very attractive – a substantial discount on car tax. There is also a form of cash child support, which in most countries is normal for any number of children, however here, only the select polyteknoi qualify. Our monthly benefit for each child is 43,75 Euro. For anyone needing a context for this monetary amount, a large pack of Pampers lasting 5 days costs 19,99 Euro.

The benefits may well be many, but as with all such things in Greece, they are accompanied by a million disclaimers, there is no listing of what they include and there is total un-clarity as to what one is eligible to really claim and what not.

When we first moved to Greece and finally moved into our new built house, two bills arrived that nearly knocked me out: Electricity and Water. I’ll discuss electricity today, which is right-out amazingly priced! Admittedly, we have a large plot of land that needs watering and we are seven people (including the nanny) living on the premises, so electricity would not have come cheap. But it was double of what we used to pay abroad!

Our first thought was, there has GOT to be a discount for the polyteknos family. Bingo, we were right. All housing bills were in my wife’s name, so she went through the administrative nightmare that is necessary to apply for this reduction. When she was almost through with everything and about to get that famous status in the electricity company’s records, the lady at the desk told her that she did it all wrong, because such benefits can only be given to the husband of the family. Don’t ask. We didn’t either. Early on I learned, that it is never necessary to know the reason in this country. It completely and utterly suffices to know what is needed, to get the job done. So my wife entered a second round of form filling, got my name on the electricity bill and the moment arrived: I got my big fat stamp: POLYTEKNOS. We were happily waiting for our next bill, to find out whether the rumor that the discount is actually 40% really materialised.

The bill arrived, however the amount was unchanged from the last time. Our look was blank. My wife started to make enquiries. It turned out that 40% discount was the correct figure, but only if our total electricity consumption had been below about one third of what we had actually consumed. Even one KWhr above the threshold disqualified the discount. In other words: unless you had 7 people living in a tiny flat of 60 square meters, and were living through the night with candle light, the consumption would never be low enough to qualify for the discount.

The concept of fluidity and variability applies to everything over here. What holds true today may have a completely different fate tomorrow. Similarly in this situation, we had the luck that this particular disclaimer was abolished after the next elections, so we now actually enjoy our 40% discount of the overpriced charge. We are now waiting for the polyteknos car tax discounts to be extended to apply to larger vehicles that actually comfortably fit the polyteknos family of 6 people, and that we are allowed an engine power that will make traveling longer distances feasible. Unfortunately elections just happened to no avail. So we may still have a long wait ahead of us.

5 to 10 children are far too small of a crowd. I would guess that 20 to 30 children would be invited on average. One of the parents will always stay for the duration of the party. Sometimes, both parents come, and more adults than children are present. Lots of food is provided – children only eat that much, but the parents need to occupy themselves with something. They will usually arrive, sit down, drink coffee and chat. The children will be left to themselves – it is quite normal that either a professional entertainer/clown will be hired, or that the whole party will be hosted at a professional theme park. If the event is taking place at home, it is standard that all food is homemade; alternatively a caterer can be hired. 

Presents given to the birthday child are never just small things. Only two formulas seem to work:

1. The bigger the size, the better – a good example is a basketball hoop.
2. The higher the quality, the better – often expensive brands of clothes are given as a present.
 
It goes without saying that a lot of money is spent for the presents. 30 to 50 Euros is quite common, and there does only seem to be a set minimum amount.

Our 4 children bring home so many birthday invitations from classmates and friends that we could literally attend at least one party every single weekend of the year. For the last years we had streamlined our own children parties: Instead of hosting 4 separate birthday parties, we organised one big event for all our kids on one day, typically just after the summer break. Close to 100 children would come, plus of course 100 adults. We have lots of outside space, which makes this possible. We also hired a professional entertainment company to occupy the kids. But instead of home cooked food, I would collect 40 Jumbo size pizzas from Dominos or Pizza Hut. This is the one kind of food kids and adults seem to be fighting over at the same time. This is of course not up to the normal standard, but then again our family is half Greek, half German. And one thing the Germans are not bad at, is efficiency…

One nice side effect from having just one mega event for all of our children was that we ended up each time with so many presents, that we could distribute some of them as additional Christmas presents for our lot. Greeks can be quite pragmatic at times, and I give my wife full credit for this.

I like the way Greeks take every opportunity to socialise. It is one of the reasons life in Greece is never dull. If you want to meet people, you don’t need to make an extra effort, it simply happens naturally.

The weather is still warm and mild in Athens, but surely the colder season is just around the corner. Therefore my wife ordered 1800 litres of heating oil to take us through the winter months, and last Thursday morning the truck arrived to deliver.

All oil tanks have a way to measure oil content, to enable a household to monitor consumption as well as the quantity of oil addition. It’s very commonly done via an external see-through tube, that is the height of the oil container, and that shows the exact content level inside the tank. At the oil tank’s installation, a “measure matrix” is affixed to its wall, translating each centimeter of content level into the corresponding amount of liters. So on that morning, our tank was at 40 cm, i.e. it contained 600 litres. 1800 liters correspond to 120 cm, therefore the content level at the tube had to rise up to a total of 160 cm from its bottom.

I showed the delivery guys to our oil tank, we agreed the fill level the tube had to reach and they started pumping.

I stood next to them during this process, as it always makes me uneasy to leave strangers in the house unattended. About halfway through, one of them had an odd request: He showed me our customer number on the order form – our customer number corresponds to the one used by the Greek Utility Services – and he said, his company was not sure, whether the last digit was correct, so could I please double-check. 

I left them to go to another floor, in order to check on their request. The number on the order form proved to be the right one. That was not really a surprise, as we had used this company several times before, and never before had there been a problem with the customer number. I got back to the oil tank, and was not able to believe what I saw: Both guys were standing in front of the tube, arms folded, watching, as the tube content already by far exceeded the agreed one. I asked what was going on! “Oh, yes, sorry, we’ll stop now” came the lethargic reply. They had actually filled over 200 liters more than agreed into the tank – “by mistake”! They had used the simple “check the number” trick to get me out of the way, and then claimed that it was a mere oversight. Well, to my knowledge they are able to fix a set amount of content that is pumped out of their truck, so theoretically an error is not even possible!

I did the only sensible thing I could – I screamed and cursed at them in Greek, making very clear that I would not pay for a single drop over the initially agreed quantity. They clearly did not expect this reaction. To them I was just a foreigner that they could take advantage of, and foreigners are not expected to curse Greeks in their own language. The next reaction was typically Greek – one guy put his arm around my shoulder and told me not to worry, of course I would not have to pay for the additional oil. The very same guy then took the delivery note, went to his truck, and came back a minute later to get my signature. I looked closely at the note – and sure, there it was: The guy had altered the 1800 litres into 2000 litres. I immediately struck the 2000 litres out, replaced it with the ordered quantity, gave him long look, signed, and took my copy before handing him his. He nodded a few times while saying “Oh, you did not want me to put the 2000 litres on the delivery note, did you?”