Chronicle & Humor: Régis, the International Expert of Cambodia

Régis spent twenty years bouncing between unemployment and odd jobs in the South of France. At forty-three, he lands in Cambodia and becomes, somewhere over the course of a Paris-Phnom Penh flight, an "international development strategy expert." His accent, for its part, made the trip without losing a single syllable — and has, if anything, gotten considerably thicker since.

Illustration photo only — © Cambodge Mag

The Résumé, Extended Edition

On LinkedIn, Régis describes himself as a "senior consultent, 20 years experiance in internationnal project managment" — the spelling on his profile is, on its own, a work of art, riddled with errors that even a tired spell-checker wouldn't dare let through. The reality, somewhat less impressive, fits in one line: a few scattered months as a temp in logistics, a year and a half of unemployment in between, and a stint selling phone plans that lasted, to his credit, longer than any of the others. "International," on his résumé, refers to a trip to Belgium in 2009.

The Accent and the Suit

Régis has a strong Southern French accent he's never tried to tone down — if anything, it seems to have thickened over the years, as if speaking louder and more sing-song automatically made his words more credible. He wears, under all circumstances, suits bought at rock-bottom prices from French discount chains, usually a touch too wide in the shoulders and a touch too short at the ankles, which he nonetheless carries with the quiet pride of a man convinced he's wearing bespoke Italian tailoring.

Nights at Bassac Lane

Régis spends most of his free time between Bassac Lane and Street 130, a drink in hand from the first aperitif, four or five more by the end of the night. He approaches every new table with the same opening line, accent turned all the way up: "You know what I do for a living? International consultant, I've got a big project going with the government." The nature of the project changes depending on the night — sometimes agricultural, sometimes digital, sometimes just "strategic," a word he reaches for whenever he no longer has a clear idea what it actually is.

Charm, Régis-Style

Convinced his status is a real draw, Régis makes repeated approaches toward women he meets on nights out, with a confidence nothing in his past history would justify. Some laugh politely and change the subject. Others, more direct, point out that his "big government contract" sounds suspiciously like a memorized line — misspelled in his head just as badly as it is on his résumé. Régis takes every smile, amused or awkward alike, as further proof of his charisma.

The Movie Star

Every so often, Régis lands a role as an extra in some international production passing through Cambodia — usually playing "expat number three" in the background of a market scene. Sitting on his folding chair between takes, he leans over to another extra, a German backpacker picking up some cash on the side, and tells him, dead serious: "You see, film's really all about instinct. The director spotted me right away, he said 'that guy's got something.'" The director in question had, in reality, spoken to him exactly once, to ask him to shift one meter to the left. Régis comes back from every shoot transformed, describing his "collaboration with the team" as though he'd just shared top billing with Brad Pitt himself, having in fact spent most of the day waiting to be told to walk across the frame once, blurred in the background.

The Endless Follow-Up

Régis has a signature move: at conferences or business events, he zeroes in on any local or foreign executive who might "back his project," then follows up relentlessly with LinkedIn messages, emails, and "coincidental" appearances at the same events as his target. One message, recovered word for word from the inbox of a French business owner based in Phnom Penh: "Good day Sir, following on from our meating at the forum (you were at the table next to the buffet), I am taking the liberty of following up regaurding my project which could interrest you strongly, available for a meeting as soon as posible, best regards Régis, International Expert." After eleven messages of this caliber in one month, the business owner simply blocks his profile outright. Régis reads this as a technical glitch rather than a message.

The Confrontation

One evening, at Bassac Lane, a young French woman newly arrived, a development officer for an actual international NGO, listens to his usual spiel without flinching. When he wraps up with "so anyway, if your organization ever needs a senior international consultant," she sets down her drink and answers, without hostility but without hedging either: "Régis, with all due respect, you've been saying that to everyone here for five years, and you've never actually delivered on anything. People know it, we talk about it." A silence falls over the table. Régis, for the first time since he arrived, has nothing to say — he finishes his drink in one go and moves to another table ten minutes later, claiming he needs to "go say hello to someone."

The Tally

Five years after he arrived, Régis has never seen a single project through, has never been hired by any of the companies he's pitched, and keeps introducing himself as an "international expert" to anyone who hasn't yet had the chance to hear about him — the Bassac Lane conversation already seems forgotten, or at least never brought up again. Underneath the bravado and the accent, there's something rather sad about this persistence — twenty years spent trying to be someone else, never quite managing it, and never quite managing to stop trying either. The regulars at Bassac Lane, for their part, have two go-to lines for him the moment his back is turned, depending on the mood: "Here comes the next Cannes star" — or, more simply, "Here comes this month's big project."