In 1971, while serving as the head of the Chamber of commerce, I encountered an incident with Mr. Pishtaz, the governor of Karaj, who was nearing retirement and known for his corrupt practices. He once summoned me to his office and showed me a box full of various official documents he had accumulated over thirty years, from diplomas to appointments for mayoralties and governorships. He requested that I have them framed, preferably in Khatam (a type of Iranian marquetry), not realizing the high cost involved. Assuming it would be a minor expense, I was shocked to find out that even twenty thousand tomans wouldn’t cover it, a significant amount at the time.
Stuck in a dilemma, as I was not one to engage in corruption, I kept the documents for a few days. Later, I told Mr. Pishtaz that I had been unable to find a suitable Khatam artist in Tehran and had therefore sent the documents to Isfahan, where my wife’s family lived, to have them framed by a master craftsman. In reality, the documents were just sitting in my home.
Over the next few weeks, Mr. Pishtaz inquired about the progress. I kept delaying, fabricating stories about the craftsman’s death and ensuing family disputes that had led to the sealing of his shop, with the documents supposedly inside. Mr. Pishtaz grew anxious but was reassured by my assurance that the situation was under control and the documents were safe.
Months passed, and Mr. Pishtaz retired and moved to Tehran. One day, he unexpectedly visited my home, eager to collect his documents. I pretended to have gone through great lengths to retrieve them from the sealed shop. He was overjoyed to get them back, believing they had been saved from a unique and now-deceased master craftsman of Khatam. This experience, while stressful, highlighted the lengths to which some would go to exploit their position, and the creative measures needed to navigate such situations without succumbing to corruption.