Until Today
Work to strict, enforced, deadlines. Never leave the office early. Follow the
rules as
though your life depends on them.
I was about to become the recipient of the downside of having my boss for a
lover.
Roland had made it quite clear the day I joined his company to bring in an
account within three months. Days spent lounging about the office as a casual
staffer seemed a thing of the past and gold bars and pearl necklaces waited at
the end of this rainbow.
Amarula Wines, in the heart of Botswana, led by
bright, get rich quick, metrosexual
males, required the agency to broadcast a simple 'people's message'. At the
start of the weekend I had made it quite clear to Roland that he was not to
come near me. He stared at me in horror and I knew I had said it wrong.
'What do you mean don't come close to you this weekend? Are you sick?'
'The Amarula Wine presentation is on Monday and I
need to be on top form. You'll just make things worse. Stay away.' I said
slowly.
'Danielle, I'm counting two days without you!' He brushed his fingers along the
contour of my neck. As much as I wanted him to stay, I couldn't allow it this
weekend.
Distraction.
I sang out loud, 'You want us to get this account, right?'
'You have to. The business depends on it. If you fail, well, we both fail and
history will
make idiots of us. Whatever you do, be calm, confident and gutsy and make sure
the stakes are raised so high that these guys simply have to accept our
proposal above all others. Afterwards we're going on a long trip. It's a
surprise, so don't ask.' He taunted.
'Now do you see why I need to be alone. I have to deal
with every aspect of the
presentation and I don't want you hanging around. I'll see you Monday morning,
eight
sharp.'
Roland sighed,
'You'd better be there.' He said, leaning forward, kissing me gently on the
cheek.
I smiled back at him, 'Only an earthquake will keep me away.'
–––––
Monday morning arrived with files carefully packed into a leather briefcase.
This is the day I had worked for all of my life, to be in a boardroom with a
gang of over-deodorised metro sexual males, including Roland, and be heard.
Strands of fear webbed my mind reminding me of my roots. I'm just a glorified
secretary who likes to wear ponchos and collects white porcelain dolls from all
over the world.
Failure featured in loser's lexicons, Roland's ego declared him a winner, and I
couldn't disappoint him or his company. Roland had taught me everything I knew
about advertising. Being me wasn't enough. I couldn't compare with the strength
of
distinguished intelligence and power hunger. They'd wear grey. High heels made
me look taller and more accessible as a businesswoman. A yellow, high-collar
Chinese top, and a black jacket finished off the stiletto effect.
I opened the front door and stopped dead.
The child stared at me.
She was large and brown, eyes swollen from crying, runny nose and grubby feet,
toes curled into a grip on the step. Not much older than three. Barely out of crawling.
'Well, hi there little one.' No adult around. 'What on earth brings you to my
doorstep?'
Innocent eyes begged for help. A thumb plugged her mouth. No children here to
play
hide and seek. No mother to do the homework. No nanny. Refrigerator
bare. Children's toys scarce. No hands to pick
up the little one, both occupied with handbags and keys and files. Leave the
child dash to the car; she would come upon another person with more time to
make a logical decision. It was a heartless thing to do.
The front door was about fifty meters from the road. I took the child's hand
gently and
dashed to the curb. The road was quiet.
I crouched before the child and said, in stilted Zulu, 'Mina Danielle, wena?'
The child smiled, at last, some kind of understanding,
'M-o-o-s-a.' She said, bright eyes flashing.
"Musa, what am I going to do with you? This is
the most important day of my life and I have no idea where or who your parents
are. I could call the police, but that will mean my job because they take such
a long time to respond to anything. So, I guess it's you and me and work.'
I took her hand, buckled her into the passenger's seat, and dialled Roland's
number on the car-phone.
'I have an emergency on my hands, and I don't know what to do.'
'Jesus don't tell me you're going to be late. Three of
them are here having coffee with me in the canteen. Where the hell are you?'
'Don't get ratty with me. I found a little lost girl on my doorstep this
morning and I'm
stumped here.'
'You what? How the fuck did that happen?'
'I haven't got a clue. I suppose I have to phone the police about this but what
if they tell me not to move. Isn't this supposed to be a scene of a crime now?
If they tell me to turn around it means the presentation goes down the drain
because I can't be there. I'm bringing her to the office.'
'You.you can't bring her here, Danielle. Who the
hell's going to look after her? I don't
want a screaming kid running amuck. Listen, you get rid of this kid and get here
by eight. Get rid of the kid, Danielle, or...'
'Or what?'
'Or consider this your last day.'
Roland's absurd priorities didn't include the child. It was obvious to me when
he told me to get rid of her, that heartless human
beings did exist. Inflection unmasked agitation in his voice..
Get rid of her sounded like a death knell. Laws protected children. The social worker
would want me to stay at home. The police would have me make hundreds of statements
claiming my innocence in the matter.
Someone had rigged my morning. Perhaps my guide enjoyed sleeping late? Faced
with a risky solution involving a little lost girl and a life changing business
presentation, I had to do what was best for both of us.
The call to the police brought an immediate response from the man in charge. He
introduced himself as Inspector Tshabalala, 'Where is
she now?'
'I have her with me, in my car on my way to work.'
'We received a report of a missing girl this morning. Her mother lost her at a
shopping mall in the area and has been frantic all this time. If you stay there
we will come and get her.'
'I have a presentation at eight fifteen and can't be late. Can you pick her up
from my
work?'
Boardroom doors, rosewood heavy, stood ajar like the jaws of an agitated ancient
predator. The enemy gathered in the foyer, none whom I cared for or knew but
guessed they held high positions at Amarula. Musa clutched my skirt and I placed her into the chair
beside me.
Grins like crooked sticks revealed smart curiosity but no one dared ask. Roland
walked in, noticed the block of black flesh in his chair and immediately called
me to one side,
'What the fuck is this, a kindergarten? Are you a nanny? How can you bring her
in here?'
'That was the easiest part. The hardest part was shuffling problematic
priorities.'
'We'll talk about this later. Let's get started.'
Men in the boardroom are testosterone business machines, their minds perfectly
attuned to anomalies in the speaker, one slip and the presentation self
destructs, Roland said they get off on this kind of thing.
Destruction, annihilation, anger and hate came to mind as I stood, convincing
them with every word, that our campaign was the best, it could easily have gone
the other way. Standing ovation.
A raggedy brown doll, the child's mother, kissed my forehead, thanking me for
finding her little lost Musa. Our lives will be
forever intertwined, she said. Destinations wreak havoc in the daily lives of
the unwary and Musa's appearance was the tuning point
for me. Musa waved me goodbye, and I saw a tear in
her eye.
I returned to my office feeling empty. A few moments later, Roland stormed in
waving his arms in excitement.
'You were simply marvellous. They were all so hyped up. You're the best!'
'I'm happy you're happy, Roland.' I said, collecting my keys and purse from the
table.
'Where are you going?'
'You've lost the right to ask me that question.'
'Lost the right? What the fuck are you talking about?'
'What I want in life doesn't include people who abuse their moral worth. It
doesn't mean much to you, but that child has a soul and a heart. That child
deserves to be with people who care for her. This is a crisis in her life,
yours, and mine and you failed the test. I loved you so much, hoped we would raise
a family and build a huge empire so that we may never want for anything except
the best, until today. You're not the man I met, and you certainly aren't the
kind of boss I would like to work for, knowing that you could get rid of me at
any time for any reason. Like you told me to get rid of Musa. I don't know who you are.'
'I'm your lover remember. We want to get married, remember.'
'Not anymore.'
I walked out and didn't bother to look back.
Louis Harris
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Name |
Comment |
Date |
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Mandy Lebides |
What a superb piece of writing. It
dominated my attention and rings so true. |
2007-09-25 |
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