Sometimes I’m not exactly right…

I certainly missed on my prediction about Germany playing the Dutch in the World Cup finals.  Spain vs. Netherlands on Sunday night: I’m taking the ferry back on Saturday so that I can be in place for the big game (and immerse in the tropical heat  wave washing over Maastricht).

(Interlude: There was a new busker in Cambridge this week (look carefully for the guitar handle to the upper right from the litter can): he was attracting a lot of attention at St. Mary’s Church.)

Some things, though, are going very right.

The demo system arrived on time and in working condition, so I’m ready to present to the cardiology luminaries all week.  The lead investor gave his secretary the honor of being the first European demo subject.

The pitch at Cambridge went well on Monday night.  The parameters were classic ‘elevator pitch’: five minutes, no slides or microphone.  ‘Just stand in front of the group of investors enjoying drinks in the Magdalene College Gardens and have your say (followed by three other companies doing the same).  We got a lot of interest afterwards, hopefully it translates to investment soon.

Back in the ‘I regret what I’ve done’ column is my DeLorean moment.

A US company called and asked if I could buy a piece of competitive equipment for them, 25% commission, easy money.  I contacted a broker and placed the order: payment up front and a top-up for fast delivery.  It arrived  Monday, so I reboxed it and took it to FedEx for two-day shipment to the US.

Then the tracking showed an ominous Clearance Delayed flag as it entered US Customs in Memphis, and all progress stopped.  I found myself in the uncomfortable position of having paid for an (expensive) item that I could not get reimbursed for, for shipping it without (perhaps) the requisite commercial paperwork, or for (maybe) not paying the necessary duty. 

In short, I was likely to be fingered as a smuggler.

The flag finally dropped today and the client acknowledged receipt this afternoon.  Easy money, indeed: I can see I don’t have the stomach for this. I kept wondering whether this was how poor  John DeLorean propped up his car company before he started smuggling cocaine.