Saudi Diary: What's in the name?

“I come here every morning in the Van. I had gone to the adjacent factory for some work” I was getting desperate. Maybe you would too if the security guards suddenly wake up to their call of duty and start questioning your motive of visiting the factory, if the guards can’t speak English and if the factory happens to be in Saudi Arabia.
With an expression I would probably reserve for martians (if they haven’t yet discovered the Babel fish) he looked at me and repeated the incomprehensible Arabic.
“I am from Tata group. Four of us are coming here for past four weeks, every morning with Boy” I was determined to enter the premises at any cost.
“Oh Tata people. Meet?”
Clearly, he knew about the four suited men roaming around in the plant, calling themselves “Tata people” and promising to solve all the problems that our client ever had.
“No, no. Not to visit them”.
“No? Then who”?
“I am Tata people…. I AM TATA” I secretly hoped Mr. Tata would forgive me for borrowing his name for a legitimate purpose.
“Oh. Okay”
Sorry Mr. Shakespeare. But I think name is everything.