All that day I waited in the hotel as telexes were sent to Washington and then to New York informing the IMF that the officials in the Transport Ministry would not cooperate and asking for instructions. When no reply came by the early afternoon, the American made a collect call to a colleague in Washington and explained in great detail what had happened. The Irishman and I sat in his room as he aired his indignation, listening as he told the story of the porter who refused to answer the telephone and the officials who did not turn up for work. By this time we had a telex number for the Minister for Transport’s office and the president’s office and the office of the Minister for the Economy. It was agreed that a strongly worded telex would be sent to each office asking that the two economists in question be contacted through me at the hotel. The American wanted an ultimatum given that the team would be pulled out and IMF cooperation reassessed if the problem was not solved by the following morning, but his colleague in Washington, it was obvious from the call, would not agree to this. He argued for a while and then gave up. When he put the receiver down, he turned to us and said: “They’re not going to threaten them, they’re going to ask them. It’s so typical. Let’s offend no one. That’s what America’s all about.” He threw his hands up in despair and walked out of the room, leaving us to find the key and lock the door and then follow him down to the lobby.

Later that evening the receptionist put a call through to me in my room; it was one of the officials who had not come to work that morning. He said that his office would be open at eight thirty the following morning, and anything that we needed would be made available. I explained that we had experienced certain problems with the porter, and he said he would sort them out before we arrived. He sounded dutiful and polite but he spoke in a strange, slow way as though he had only recently learned how to use that tone.

As soon as we appeared the next morning the porter became a bustling mass of energy and detailed instructions about how to get to the lift. He paid special attention to the American, smiling at him and nodding his head. The American ignored him, moved ahead of us like a man leading his followers into arduous battle.

The officials were waiting. Their leader was even more unctuous than the porter had been, but the American was even more brusque. None of the officials spoke English, and thus I had to stay there for the entire day—the American and the Irishman refused to have a lunch break and sent one of the officials out for sandwiches—translating the American’s barked commands for facts and figures about public transport in the greater Buenos Aires area, explaining his efforts to have these facts and figures broken down into administration costs and running costs.