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Tuesday, February 07, 2012

brushes with death



On Sunday, The One and I became proud new BlackBerry Torch 9810 owners. Anyone can do it: service providers periodically suck you into another 24 months of contract fees by dangling the latest available phone in front of your face - four months before the current contract expires. You simply have to reach out and grab the prize.


I love my new gadget. The photo, taken from The One's twin phone shows it charging itself after half a day of “battery too low for radio use”. The power-hungry darling switched itself off out of frustration at 17:34, as I was about to leave work. There simply was not one single minute to spare all day just to charge the sexy bugger.

At the moment, work is a surreal asylum for the criminally insane; why, just today I had at least three bloodthirsty clients snapping at my heels. They were joined by The Bosses at 15:00. Reports about the duration of the insanity have proved inconclusive.

Nevertheless, I say “darling” because the quality of the on-phone camera defies belief, as you can see.

Our old phones softly and silently vanished away in the face of superior technology and found new homes. May the joy they bring continue wherever their little rumps rest.

*

During my daily confinement at the aforementioned asylum today I had a clear moment. The cruel baying and gnashing around me stopped momentarily as I was informed of the death of a frequent client we’d last seen on Saturday. Apparently he had had an asthma attack and had succumbed.

He had been quite a demanding client at times, but we’d been getting to know each other better and had started working well of late. I’d even asked him to contact me if he ever needed a graphic designer.

What a shock.

Requiescat in Pace, James Chupheme.


*

This afternoon when The Bosses were sorting financial stuff, I was informed that I’d overcharged a client by R19.20. I’d swiped his holy credit card for R980.00 instead of R960.80.

Everyone thought it was funny because the client was a minister from a local church.

They cracked jokes like “you’d better lie low when lightning strikes” and “say a hundred Hail Marys”. Apparently God hates my guts.

As if I didn’t know that.

Written by I

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