Traffic Light Lady (A story about running your own race) – To the Trompies “MADIBUSENG” soundtrack

Someone I barely know asked me how I find the energy to chase my dreams with such gusto?  She continued by stating, quite matter of factly, that I seem to be one of those people to whom great opportunities “just come” and the lovely lady ended off by saying that she also noticed that I didn’t really have to “work very hard” to get to the finish line, often beating the ones who “slave away 9 to 5”.  

 

She touched my shoulder and smiled warmly. For impact.

 

I did not respond. I could not.  Words failed me.

 

Now, it doesn’t take a PhD student to understand why this was so problematic that it actually left ME speechless.  I think it may have something to do with the tone.  The tone of the 3 “facts” wrapped up as compliments, when in fact they were not.

 

I went through them in my head again:

1. Accusation 1:  I am the one chasing with gusto (implying that I am workaholic running uphill at high speed). So, a GREEN light sort of person?
2. Accusation 2:  Things just come (implying that I am in neutral, just waiting). So, an ORANGE light kind of person?
3. Accusation 3:  I don’t have to work very hard (implying that I pretty much rely on my fake boobs to bring in the moola). So, a RED light kind of person? – Every pun intended!

 

And, here’s the part where the penny is supposed to drop and I am supposed to deliver some profound sermon, dispelling the accusations and leaving the daft woman looking dafter. But no.  I fancy a different approach….

 

I’ve decided that the next time I see her, I will play the famous Trompies Song “Madibuseng” featuring the late and very great Lebo Mathosa (“Sometimes you red-y, sometimes you green-y, sometimes you orange-y”)  in my head and say:

1. “Good morning, can’t talk, gotta run…to Paris for my croissants and then back to Dubai for a meeting with Oprah and finally back to a TED Talk in Vegas. Gosh, when will I eat?” (The colour GREEN should come to your mind right about now)
2. I will continue “Oh wait! Sorry, I think I will just go back to bed and meditate. You know? We can have anything we want if we just believeeeeeee (and do “ohm” with my hands)” (You feeling organgy yet?)
3. Acting all excited I will then add, “No, no, actually, let me call my butler. I sooooo need a wax (roll eyes), a spray tan, my extensions fixed, eyelashes lifted but first…let me pop this pill. You know? It puts you in a coma so you don’t have to be awake during the process” (at which point I can put a red Smartie in my mouth).

 

Crap man! Who am I kidding?

 

While I do love that Trompies song very much, I won’t have timeeeeeeee to disarm the woman because I will be so busy driving to work on a tank with a flashing orange fuel guage to finish a PowerPoint presentation in order to meet a deadline in order to meet my KPI’s, hoping to get a bonus while touching up my grey hair with mascara and wondering how to turn leftover KFC into Chicken A La King for a family dinner!  You know? I will be busy chasing, working, running, hustling, doubting, fixing, negotiating like the rest of the world…..

 

So, before I let old Chairman of the Peanut Gallery get to me, best I remember that what other people think of us, is actually none of our business.  © A Heart Full of Stories, 2016

 

Aluta continua, as they say. The road to learning to run our own race and let others run theirs is longer for some than others.  I wish you a short one, friends.

 

 

COPYRIGHT: 

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.

 

 

 

How a piece of gum taught me 5 Important Life Lessons

I had a feeling the waiter saw me stick my spearmint gum under the table. Our eyes locked for two long seconds. The unholy mental rendezvous made me blush a little but that moment was quickly interrupted by a woman screaming “I will kill youuuuuuu!”

 

Damn, some people can over react, I thought! Whatever happened to threatening a punishment befitting the crime? 

 

Fortunately, I was not the one she wanted to kill. Nor was the waiter, thank goodness.

 

The object of her fury was a man in a car. Crazy was lying on top of the bonnet with her granny knickers on display for the whole parking lot to see.  She was using one windscreen wiper to hold on to. Her free hand was swiping the other wiper viciously through half an open window into the frightened man’s face. I had no doubt that she wanted to kill him and his eyes told me that he knew that too. (Eye contact! Why on why did I go there?)

 

Security arrived quite quickly and it was then that I saw two little blonde heads rise and quickly dip back onto the backseat. There were kids in that car and our eyes had locked for just two long seconds, contracting me into the story even more. 

 

From sheer nervousness, I reached under my table and began to play with “my” gum. It started to make my fingers smell sweet. Grape! Grape! That smell was grape. Who even buyssssss grape gum?

 

And that was the first and only time I wanted to kill someone too. I want to kill myself. Eeeew!

 

Now please let’s not get clever and ask “what’s the moral of the story?”…because we all know it is bloody clear as daylight: 

 

1. Don’t do stupid shit
2. If you do do stupid shit, do not make eye contact
3. If you do make eye contact, you enter a contract
4. Contracts are usually one sided and generally once you’re in, you’re in
5. Your mom was right about wearing good underwear (just in case)

 

 

And oh yes, there are crazy people everywhere. Some want to kill. Others buy grape gum. Be warned.

 

© A Heart Full of Stories, 2016. 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.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Wrong Place Right Time

I believe in being well prepared.

So, I arrived early for two reasons. One, I wanted the time to gather my thoughts and jot down some ideas before I lost them. Two, I needed to do my makeup ahead of my presentation.

So, you can imagine how annoyed I was when I arrived at my office 2 hours ahead of the meeting and there was someone waiting outside the door!

I sat in my car and watched him trying the buzzer. I just sat there shaking my head. Two hours early? Who does that? 

I took out my calendar and checked the invite again. I did not have the time wrong. The fool was two hours early.

I waited.

I thought that perhaps HE had gotten the time wrong and if that was the case, surely he would phone me.

So, I waited.

Now I know that a normal person would have walked 100m and talked to the person. But, I have never been a fan of “normal”. The other reason I could not even think of getting out of my car is because I looked (and smelled) homeless.

I was wearing slippers for driving, my hair was wet, I had no makeup on and I had been eating a slice of toast with anchovy paste. If he didn’t die from the shock of seeing someone from Thriller, the smell from my hands would surely have stopped his stupid heart.

So I waited.

He walked away from the door and went to the bathroom. I thought of making a quick dash out of the car but could not take the risk.

So I waited.

One hour later, after my hair had dried, my makeup had set, my slippers were in the boot and my breath was fresh (thanks to some baby-bum wipes and some Listerine which you don’t need to know where I spat), the long waiting game was over.

I walked up to the door and said “Wow, you are early!”

He replied “No, actually I think you are late, but it’s okay. I understand”.

We laughed and I walked ahead of him into the board room.

I said “Please make yourself comfortable”.

He replied “I will try. I am very nervous”.

Nervous? This dude was weirder and weirder. Why would you be nervous about attending a pitch when YOU were not the one doing the presentation?

I gave weirdo his coffee and he said “Will you be the only one interviewing me?”

I thought of replying “No, I think the CEO of the Mental Health Association will be joining me”.

He took out a copy of his CV and gave it to me. Weirdness should come with a forehead tattoo, I thought.

I looked down at the CV. It had a cover note that said “Block D”.

The dude was now 1.5 hours LATE for his dream job and sitting in a board room in Block B.

My heart broke for him.

So, I did what any “normal” person would do.  I asked our secretary to deal with the situation.

© 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 http://www.aheartfullofstories.wordpress.com with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.