Well yesterday was funny. At least in the morning.
There was a “bomb scare” in our office park. Not our building, but we were close enough that we had to evacuate. And feeling as rough as a goat's testicle after a big night out, kind of fannyed about on the golf green for 2 hours. Baking and fermenting in the sun.
Bomb scares are always interesting. There were throngs of people sitting on the course, fucking it up with their high heels, and I thought it would be fun to roll down the hill to pass the time. Was trying to spot talent amongst all that office chino beige and office polyester black.
But there's a dude with a megaphone and reckons, “Please stand back, everybody stand back, we've heard that there is a bomb in such-and-such a building, but PLEASE REMAIN CALM"
The moment you hear that, you really want to do the opposite, for God's sake your instinct tells you to. There's a reason why he's asking you to stay calm and that's because havoc is potentially a mere tick away. But people weren't freaking about the bomb. Oh no. People were freaking out about the golf course and the stiletto divots that were being made by the over thousand employees.
Thing is you always ask why a bomb has been planted - is it money, is it bribery and corruption, is it political? Is there even a bomb at all (and why does the sniffer dog look so alive?) The company being targeted was a pharmaceutical. So what, they're trying to facilitate death by Lux?
Also, interesting point made by someone: a duck flew onto the golf course water thingie. And Mother Nature was almost 90% there when it came to its basic camouflagation. The brown and white feathers, standard duck apparel. Until it climbs out of the water to reveal two bright red glow-in-the-dark legs. Madre kind of let this particular genus of duck down. Those legs are gonna get it killed.
Once back, I phoned Dad. Gotta keep tabs on the guy, you know, one has to watch a loose canon with a shifty eye.
Peas: Hi Dad. Lemme guess. You're flying. And you've answered the phone. Again.
Dad: I can't talk right now, am flying over the berg.
Peas: Like clockwork. Our phone conversations are just as predictable as MTN's.
Dad: Who is this?
Peas: Um, your DAUGHTER Dad.
Dad: Ohhhh. Sorry Boo. Can't hear.
Right. It's the weekend, I'm moving, I'm going overseas, it's all happening, and I'm so excited my spleen is tingling.
Update: Hellopeter is fabulous. 24 hours after I pasted my MTN blog post into its complaints section, a dude got hold of me and activated my card. MTN also found my blog post. This morning. And emailed me. But Hellopeter was far more effective. The issue has been resolved top down, but for customers who have to go through call centres, I don't foresee the service changing if usual customers like me go from the bottom up. Sorry MTN. I have to thank Hellopeter for this one.