Even if you don't have any religious beliefs, at some point you would've heard the story of David versus Goliath. If not, then you are clearly a heathen on the fast track to hell. Sies man. But I'm not discriminating. If you really don't know what I'm talking about then to briefly summise:
Young boy named David is sent to fight a great warrior named Goliath
So, kind of like McCauley Culkin in his Home Alone days versus The Undertaker (if you watch wrestling which I absolutely don't by the way)
All the odds are on Goliath to pulverise young David.
But David is armed with courage, a pure heart and a slingshot.
He takes careful aim and hits Goliath on the forehead and it's game over
The underlying moral of the story - sometimes the little guy can stick it to the big guys and walk away with heads held high. Or that in some cases it pays to throw rocks at other people. A message clearly still taken to heart today in this country.
Why the Sunday school lesson? I can't quite remember what I was going to rant about this morning. Oh yes, here goes.
This past weekend I was inspired by three great achievements in the world of T20 cricket. First, the Dutchmen gave it all they got and batted England back to the Stone Henge's, I mean Ages. The headline the next day in one of the English dailies was classic. Clogs -1 Clots - 0. Ouchie. Then next up the West Indies took on the mighty Dingoes and thrashed them so viciously that poor Ricky Ponting looked on the verge of tears and about to call his Doppelganger, little Bush for advice.
To make mattes worse, they were sent packing last night by a bunch of guys who drink tea instead of beer to unwind. Yup, the Sri Lankans packed the Dingoes' bags and pretty much dispatched them on Poor Sods Airlines out of the tournament.
In light of all this, I woke up this morning feeling ready to take on the world. The little guy (me) were going to take on the evil, giant corporation (our pay TV service provider) and get matters sorted once and for all. For the last 10 days I've been threatening to call or worse, sabotage a few satellite dishes. But felt that it was worthless and pointless to take on a mighty empire that is the provider of 24 hour cartoons - the ultimate luxury. Given the past weekends sporting achievements though, I felt inspired and that perhaps I was sent a message by the spirit of the late, great David.
I started by phoning the customer service department and got to chat to a very charming automated voice person thingy. He is sweet but didn't understand a bloody word I was saying. Clearly the Dutchman in me befuddled his Henry Higgins trained ear for Queen's English. After hitting the # key repeatedly I eventually got to speak to a real person. Big mistake. This brother was not charming and even worse, he talked back to me. After trying to explain to him that my account couldn't be in arrears because it is automatically deducted from my salary every month, he decided to put me through to their commercial department. What on earth does the commercial department do? I didn't want to run an ad for blood pressure medication. I simply wanted the error message on my TV to go away and stop harassing me for a payment already made. On time. Every month.
Then I got to chat to a woman. Who is befuddled by my dilemma and puts me on hold for 6 minutes. I know because my phone keeps a call log. She eventually returned after having gone to the loo, making a cup of coffee and catching up on last night's Isidingo episode. With a half hearted apology for putting me on hold while she was trying to find somebody who could help me. Eventually she asked me to phone x number. At that point I had a mild stroke and told her that it is the same number I've just called. WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU PEOPLE DOING!!!! After much debate between her and her colleagues, I was given another number to phone.
This time I got to speak to a very nice lady who immediately knew what I was talking about. But alas, she still didn't know why I kept getting an error message when my account was up to date. She eventually admitted that she didn't know how to fix this problem. I was fine with that, at least she was being honest. She gave me her word that my satellite service wouldn't be disconnected during the Johnny Bravo marathon on tonight. Fabulous. Because in saying that to me, she just made it a sure thing that I won't be able to watch TV tonight. And I was also hoping to catch the 500 richest bitches and their owners on the E Channel.
In conclusion, the little guy takes on the big guys daily. Sometimes they win and rewrite history. I'm sure Erin Brockovich rings a bell. But most of the time you lose. And you won't rewrite history. Nobody will know who you are. But your recorded calls to the customer service centres across this nation will become legendary. Employees will be trained on how to be a better service representative based on the calls of Boermeisie. That in itself is a noble cause and I will keep fighting the good fight.
I'm running out of rocks though.
Tuesday, June 9, 2009
Wednesday, June 3, 2009
From One Extreme To Another...
Well, if there's one thing I've learnt in the last day or so, it is that you should never mess with Murphy. The one the law is named after. Having had no water yesterday, I now have more than enough of it.
I received a phone call from my neighbour yesterday afternoon at work. Very calmly he told me that the tenant in the apartment above me, left a tap running and proceeded to flood his entire apartment. To the point where water was cascading down the stairs in a manner which would've made Vic Falls look like a trickle. Thankfully he knew where the emergency water shut off was and shut it down. But he suggested that I should come home and see if everything is in order in my apartment.
Needless to say, I left in a rush and charged back home in a manner which would've made the most lawless taxi driver proud. I'm talking driving in the emergency lane with hazards on, incessant hooting and the odd 'Get the hell out of my way' being flung out the window. I even passed a metro cop along the way but thankfully he was pulled over with a flat tyre and could proceed in a high speed chase. Because that would've been the cherry on the cake. My only hope then would be that the apartment was indeed flooded and that he would drown in the ensuing pursuit.
I was beyond flapping. I had visions of my beloved paintings and dvd collection being drenched. Along with my lovely kelims and all other electronic gadgets. Not to mention the horrible thought that the love of my life may have drowned in the process. Considering that she sleeps for 23 out of the 24 hours of the day and nothing gets her out of this stupor, not even my arrival at home in the afternoon. Either that, or that she woke up in time and was furiously paddling around the apartment trying to stay afloat. With her lovely coat reduced to an unsightly frizz. Oh the drama. If only I made her wear her little life jacket before I left for work that morning.
I arrive at the complex and manage to narrowly miss driving through the security boom and gate. With reckless abandon I exceed the 10km per hour speed limit in the complex by 90km and arrive with screaming tyres in front of the block I stay in. My neighbour is already standing outside, waiting for me. Expecting the worst, I unlock the door and expect to be washed away at the same time. And oh joy, everything is in pristine order. The love of my life is still passed out on the couch, dry and frizz free. More importantly, nothing seems to be leaking from the ceiling and other than the lights flickering a bit when I switch them on, there are no damage. I'm so relieved that I could cry at that moment. Until I remember the reason for the panic in the first place. And go from relieved to bedonnerd in 3 seconds flat.
The moron living above me finally shows up at about 19:00. I wisely stay inside my apartment in case I want to assault him with a mop. When I hear that the clean up operation is in full swing upstairs, I decide to take the pooch for a walk. I'm still fuming and considering leaving a strongly worded post-it note on his door. Which would allow me only 2 words, you can guess which two I was considering. But my anger quickly turned into hysterical laughter as I for the first time since he moved into the complex in February, notice the bakkie he drives. Which is clearly a company vehicle. And said company...
CRYSTAL SHOWERS
You couldn't make this stuff up even if you wanted to.
I received a phone call from my neighbour yesterday afternoon at work. Very calmly he told me that the tenant in the apartment above me, left a tap running and proceeded to flood his entire apartment. To the point where water was cascading down the stairs in a manner which would've made Vic Falls look like a trickle. Thankfully he knew where the emergency water shut off was and shut it down. But he suggested that I should come home and see if everything is in order in my apartment.
Needless to say, I left in a rush and charged back home in a manner which would've made the most lawless taxi driver proud. I'm talking driving in the emergency lane with hazards on, incessant hooting and the odd 'Get the hell out of my way' being flung out the window. I even passed a metro cop along the way but thankfully he was pulled over with a flat tyre and could proceed in a high speed chase. Because that would've been the cherry on the cake. My only hope then would be that the apartment was indeed flooded and that he would drown in the ensuing pursuit.
I was beyond flapping. I had visions of my beloved paintings and dvd collection being drenched. Along with my lovely kelims and all other electronic gadgets. Not to mention the horrible thought that the love of my life may have drowned in the process. Considering that she sleeps for 23 out of the 24 hours of the day and nothing gets her out of this stupor, not even my arrival at home in the afternoon. Either that, or that she woke up in time and was furiously paddling around the apartment trying to stay afloat. With her lovely coat reduced to an unsightly frizz. Oh the drama. If only I made her wear her little life jacket before I left for work that morning.
I arrive at the complex and manage to narrowly miss driving through the security boom and gate. With reckless abandon I exceed the 10km per hour speed limit in the complex by 90km and arrive with screaming tyres in front of the block I stay in. My neighbour is already standing outside, waiting for me. Expecting the worst, I unlock the door and expect to be washed away at the same time. And oh joy, everything is in pristine order. The love of my life is still passed out on the couch, dry and frizz free. More importantly, nothing seems to be leaking from the ceiling and other than the lights flickering a bit when I switch them on, there are no damage. I'm so relieved that I could cry at that moment. Until I remember the reason for the panic in the first place. And go from relieved to bedonnerd in 3 seconds flat.
The moron living above me finally shows up at about 19:00. I wisely stay inside my apartment in case I want to assault him with a mop. When I hear that the clean up operation is in full swing upstairs, I decide to take the pooch for a walk. I'm still fuming and considering leaving a strongly worded post-it note on his door. Which would allow me only 2 words, you can guess which two I was considering. But my anger quickly turned into hysterical laughter as I for the first time since he moved into the complex in February, notice the bakkie he drives. Which is clearly a company vehicle. And said company...
CRYSTAL SHOWERS
You couldn't make this stuff up even if you wanted to.
Tuesday, June 2, 2009
The Sound of Dryness
Hello dryness my old friend
You've come to taunt me once again
For the principles of good hygiene
Suggest a bath a day keeps you clean
And the mission is imprinted in my brain, to remain
Oh the sound of dryness
No, it's not one of my inappropriate and lewd songs. I woke up this morning without running water or just water for that matter in my apartment. As usual I stumbled into the bathroom and opened the taps of the shower only to be greeted by an eerie silence. Thinking that I was still in a dream, I got on the scale and was rudely awakened. In my dream I always weigh at least 20kg's less. Sometimes I have trouble registering a reading. Not so this morning.
As the gears slowly start turning and some thought enters my mind, I realise that there must be some sort of problem somewhere in the water distribution centre/dam/lake/reservoir/private swimming pool of some overpaid government official. What the hell am I going to do. My hair is sticking up in all directions with a bit of static electricity making things even more ridiculous. And I desperately search my memory for a past Mr Bean episode. What would Mr Bean do? Alas, I don't think he was ever without water. Can't imagine why, it's hilarious once you have a flushing toilet again.
Ah ha, genius strikes. I have a mini water cooler on my counter so I can at least wet a face cloth and try and flatten my hair. No small feat as I probably use far too much product in my hair. But the label on the outside promised strong, sexy hair. And sexy hair is at least a little bit of sexy. Oh, of course - I must brush my teeth too. Having done this, I use the last bit of water to freshen the love of my life's water bowl. Ok, no morning coffee which is wise since I can't use the loo. Or I can but it's not really what I had in mind with regards to leaving some sort of legacy once I pass on. So I use the deodorant and perfume rather liberally and I set off to work. Where there is coffee and toilets in working order. Today I'm getting my money's worth. I may not get my bonus this year but I'm going to drink water and use the loo with reckless abandon.
As I drive to work, I can't help but think how many people start their day without water every day of their lives. Not because of some glitch not allowing water to their homes. But because there are no pipes taking water to their homes. Or cables taking electricity for that matter. In the 40 minutes I spend at home getting ready for work, I use more facilities and appliances than the majority of South Africans even have access to. You want coffee? Well go gather wood outside so you can start a fire and put the kettle on. Or if you are slightly more fortunate, heat up the paraffin stove. But you still need to walk in the freezing cold to the closest tap and fill containers with water. While you are outside, you may as well stand in a long line to use one of the few shared outhouses available. Then back inside to heat water for coffee as well as for taking a hasty bath.
I felt great shame driving to work this morning. Had the drive been longer than 10 minutes, I probably would've shed a tear or two. Because it is unthinkable that so many people still live without access to these basic necessities. But what leaves me even more embarrassed is how so many of these people show up for work on time, looking presentable and cheerful. And I'm sitting in my office grumbling because my tv remote's batteries went dead and I had to get off my rapidly expanding arse to switch my flat screen tv on to catch the news. There's nothing funny about that. And it takes not having water one morning every year or so, to remind me of this. That is what is even more shameful.
I don't know about all of you but I can do better. And I'm going to try.
You've come to taunt me once again
For the principles of good hygiene
Suggest a bath a day keeps you clean
And the mission is imprinted in my brain, to remain
Oh the sound of dryness
No, it's not one of my inappropriate and lewd songs. I woke up this morning without running water or just water for that matter in my apartment. As usual I stumbled into the bathroom and opened the taps of the shower only to be greeted by an eerie silence. Thinking that I was still in a dream, I got on the scale and was rudely awakened. In my dream I always weigh at least 20kg's less. Sometimes I have trouble registering a reading. Not so this morning.
As the gears slowly start turning and some thought enters my mind, I realise that there must be some sort of problem somewhere in the water distribution centre/dam/lake/reservoir/private swimming pool of some overpaid government official. What the hell am I going to do. My hair is sticking up in all directions with a bit of static electricity making things even more ridiculous. And I desperately search my memory for a past Mr Bean episode. What would Mr Bean do? Alas, I don't think he was ever without water. Can't imagine why, it's hilarious once you have a flushing toilet again.
Ah ha, genius strikes. I have a mini water cooler on my counter so I can at least wet a face cloth and try and flatten my hair. No small feat as I probably use far too much product in my hair. But the label on the outside promised strong, sexy hair. And sexy hair is at least a little bit of sexy. Oh, of course - I must brush my teeth too. Having done this, I use the last bit of water to freshen the love of my life's water bowl. Ok, no morning coffee which is wise since I can't use the loo. Or I can but it's not really what I had in mind with regards to leaving some sort of legacy once I pass on. So I use the deodorant and perfume rather liberally and I set off to work. Where there is coffee and toilets in working order. Today I'm getting my money's worth. I may not get my bonus this year but I'm going to drink water and use the loo with reckless abandon.
As I drive to work, I can't help but think how many people start their day without water every day of their lives. Not because of some glitch not allowing water to their homes. But because there are no pipes taking water to their homes. Or cables taking electricity for that matter. In the 40 minutes I spend at home getting ready for work, I use more facilities and appliances than the majority of South Africans even have access to. You want coffee? Well go gather wood outside so you can start a fire and put the kettle on. Or if you are slightly more fortunate, heat up the paraffin stove. But you still need to walk in the freezing cold to the closest tap and fill containers with water. While you are outside, you may as well stand in a long line to use one of the few shared outhouses available. Then back inside to heat water for coffee as well as for taking a hasty bath.
I felt great shame driving to work this morning. Had the drive been longer than 10 minutes, I probably would've shed a tear or two. Because it is unthinkable that so many people still live without access to these basic necessities. But what leaves me even more embarrassed is how so many of these people show up for work on time, looking presentable and cheerful. And I'm sitting in my office grumbling because my tv remote's batteries went dead and I had to get off my rapidly expanding arse to switch my flat screen tv on to catch the news. There's nothing funny about that. And it takes not having water one morning every year or so, to remind me of this. That is what is even more shameful.
I don't know about all of you but I can do better. And I'm going to try.
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