Lunch Date, Wrong Spot !Caution: This story contains bad language. Parental Guidance Advised

I love peri peri prawns; I love the company of women; I love a cold glass of bubbly; I love the sunshine and when the promise of all of those things are on the cards, I dress up and show up.

Oh yes, and if this magical combo of things happens to come together on a work day, well then, I even swop my EDT for EDP.

So, I spritzed the good stuff on my pulse points. It felt so indulgent on a random Tuesday. I had been under enormous pressure at work. My special lunch date had been too.  She had also been recovering from a critical illness and I planned to tell her that I loved the fact that she still used words like “bitch” instead of offering me a passage from the bible during our chats about her health.

The word “bitch” was going to come up lots and lots during our lunch meeting. This I knew for sure. We had been dealing with a mutual service provider who I really thought should have considered a company name change. RIP: Rude, Incompetent, Pricey – Where Customers Come Last is what I had in mind. There would be total value alignment with her staff. I could not wait to share my genius over lunch.

But we had a teeny problem. My lunch date was sitting in a restaurant in one part of the city. Stupid tart!  Poor thing! She had already ordered something to drink. I was sitting in a restaurant by the same name in another part of the city, 30km away from her. I had also ordered a drink.

I had sunshine. I had prawns. I had a glass of bubbly. I was not moving.  So, I Skyped my date.

We had a blast talking about RIP!  I had to agree, I DID have a certain “way with words”.

© A Heart Full of Stories, 2015. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Lee-Ann Mayimele and www.aheartfullofstories.wordpress.com with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

Watch your back

I used to have a file on my desk with the label “F-Ups”.

I never intended that it would become the subject of any controversy when I named it.  In fact, it was only when a board member asked me how many times I planned to “f@ck up”, that I saw the humorous side.  Before then, I diligently kept all documents that needed following up neatly inside it.

I jumped in my car and went to have my nails done. On my way there, I was getting pissed off that I was stuck in traffic.  It was 11am on a Tuesday morning and there was no reason for the stupid road in front of my office block to have had any issues.

When I eventually got to the end of the queue, I saw that there had been an accident.  There was a blonde lady standing outside her 4×4. She was on the phone and was crying.

There was also a crowd gathering around someone sitting on the floor behind her vehicle. There was no second car and I wondered what the blonde tart was crying about.  The traffic light went green and it was my turn to go.

I had called the salon to say that I was running late.   As I arrived and was running up the stairs, I looked back. I could see the crowd around the person sitting on the floor growing bigger and bigger.

When I got into the nail bar, the receptionist told me that the therapist was running late.  I was a little annoyed.  For God’s sakes, I thought, could you not have told me this when I called you to say I was running late?

I sat down and took out my Blackberry.  Yes, a Blackberry.  I thought I would use the time to check my emails.

The first email I saw was from a colleague from another division.  She was a known chaos-sower and we rarely had to interact, thank God.  Her email said that the CEO was urgently looking for a document, which she knew that I had kept a copy of.  So, she went to my desk and helped herself to a file which she thought may contain the document.  It was the F-Up file.  She made it seem as though she was “helping” me.  You know?  Doing the work for me in my absence, so that the boss would not find out that I was using “company time” for my private shit.  Yeah right!?  I worked flexi hours, dumb thing.

The nail technician did not turn up for work that day. She had been the one sitting on the floor and the blonde tart had reverse crashed into her while she was walking to work.  It was the last time she was able to walk.

I got back to my office and the tension was thick.  The F-Up file had been taken apart and my friend at reception whispered “She’s such a b2tch!”

The unpaid bills that were the subject of the commotion in the office had in fact been paid long ago.  I kept the copies in the F-Up file to remind me to change the address when we moved offices in months’ time.  If the chaos-sower had taken the time to look at the back on the document, the whole saga could well have been avoided.

I thought about the blonde tart.  I sent her love across the walls of my office block and down the main road.  I thought that perhaps a lot of f@ck ups could well be avoided if we took the time to look back.

But, I figured, that most times we’re so focussed on what’s on/in the front, that nothing else really matters. 

© A Heart Full of Stories, 2015. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Lee-Ann Mayimele and www.aheartfullofstories.wordpress.com with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

To Listen or NOT to listen

It was nearly Christmas.

Everyone was talking about their holiday plans. Most were going skiing in Europe and then back to South Africa for a beach holiday over New Year.

I could not even thinkkkkkk of taking leave. Firstly, I had only joined the company a month or two earlier and secondly, the most junior person on the team always stayed put. I accepted my fate maturely.

About 3 days before Christmas, and on the last real shopping day, I got the call I had been waiting for. I was free to pack up early and go home. I was elated.

I planned to light a candle for my deceased granny (old tradition), pick up my Christmas pudding from my mom, book my Secret Santa Girls Lunch and finally get all the little gifts for my family. I was excited.

As I was driving out of my office, I got a call. It was from a colleague. She needed my “help”. 

I listened. 

She had a deadline to meet and was not going to make it.

I listened some more.

She explained that she had loads of “important” things to do.

I continued to listen.

She had gifts to buy, cocktails with friends, carols by candlelight and oh yes, a spa day. She simply had “no time” to do her work and she wanted me to do it. It was a 5-day job that required working over Christmas in order to meet a submission deadline.

She sensed my energy dip, so she added something extra. She explained that she had already talked to the CEO of the company and “cleared things” with him.

She ended her pitch by adding that she thought that I “wouldn’t mind” because I had “nothing exciting to do anyway”.

I stopped listening. My ears just stopped playing ball. 

For a moment, the CEO ploy flashed across my mental dashboard as I envisioned beautiful gold stars next to my name and a promotion. Fortunately, that shit didn’t last long. I came to my senses. Quickly too.

I said “I can’t help, I’m afraid” and when she said “And why not?” I said “Ear trouble”. 

I did!  I could have high-fived myself right there, I must say!

I hung up and went to light that damn candle. 

© A Heart Full of Stories, 2015. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Lee-Ann Mayimele and www.aheartfullofstories.wordpress.com with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.