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Showing posts from March, 2015

Garage Sale Butter and Salt

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Rejection. Being dumped.   Fired from work.   These are some of the experiences that makes us human.   They are not pleasant.   That is why I have empathy for items I see on the road next to a red board GARAGE SALE. They are sitting on the curb because they are no longer useful.   Old kettles have been replaced by cordless ones.   Old radios are now redundant because mobile phones have digital clocks that are so clever, they automatically switch to daylight saving time.   I sympathise with the household items but there is hope for them.   Students might buy them and put them in their dorm room or basement apartment they are renting, but there is no hope for butter. Yes.   Butter.   Butter is one of the things that are rejected or scorned.   It is not like books on that garage sale pile because nobody will pick it up.   Oops!   I suppose we cannot place it in the sun because it will melt. You get the idea.   Butter is not alone.   Sugar is also now kicked to the curb.   Some

Pre-Paid Credit Cards and Me

      Credit Cards.   That’s it.   I’m done.   I’m not happy.   I do not want to use strong language in case it offends Google so much, this little blog is taken off the air in retaliation.   It is not a nice thing when the cashier says ‘I’m sorry.’ She doesn’t have to finish the sentence.   The customers behind you know what comes after the apology.   My card has been declined.   No.   It was not because I did not settle my monthly bill.   Honestly.   I kid you not.   It had something to do with the chip.   The card was declined before I put in my PIN.   Who is supposed to dust this magnetic chip from time to time to keep it running?   It just refused to work and this was confirmed by the Bank of Montreal the following day.   Fortunately I was able to whip out my bank card and proudly told miss cashier that I would put the bill on debit.   I had money in it which belonged to another bill I had to pay in three days’ time, but that is another story. Anyway, I am thinking of

Zulu It is raining

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What is your favorite rain song?  Ku-ya-ne-tha in  Zulu means it is raining.   Ku: you say it as in kudu, the animal ya: you say it as in yard ne: you say it as in Nellie tha: you say it as in touch. ZULU ENGLISH Kuya-netha. Liya-netha. It is raining. It is raining. Ngi-nethile I was caught in the rain. Ba-nethile They were caught in the rain. Li-nethile. It rained. Ku-zonetha It will rain. Beku-netha. It was raining. Nonqaba waka Msimang.

Switching Lines At The Bank

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Banks should have blinking lights above tellers’ stations to warn us when they are going to have lunch or tea breaks in the next ten minutes.   I use cash machines in malls most of the time but there are certain banking needs that force me to go inside the bank. This humble advice to bankers international is the result of frustration.   I stopped counting the number of times when tellers placed the sign CLOSED after serving the customer before me. The lights should be like that financial ticker tape at the Chicago Stock Exchange or Wall Street, which l don’t understand.   All I know is that somebody somewhere is selling computer software, hardware, roses, pork bellies, apples, platinum and god knows what else.   If it can be bought, it can be traded on the stock market. The teller’s break ticker tape, will help me switch lines quickly and it should be controlled by the supervisor or team leader (that is what managers are called now).   Tellers are too busy counting deposi

Bus Drivers

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Compliments to the chef.   That is what gourmet eating folks say after enjoying well-designed food in fancy restaurants.   I prefer good old beans, rice, grits, chicken and fish myself, not food that looks like a Picasso on a plate.      Long distance bus drivers.   We do not say compliments to the Greyhound driver when he safely drives us from Winnipeg to Thompson Manitoba, 739 kilometers away.   Why not? Long distance bus drivers do many things besides driving the bus.   First of all, we do not even think about our safety.   We trust them.  They do not text and drive.  That is why we doze off and books we are reading fall on our laps.   Passengers with head phones do not sleep because of music.   It is a state of mind. They just feel safe in the bus.   They know somebody will get them there safely.   Loved ones at home do not worry about a thing.   ‘She took the bus.’ Which is quite reassuring. Secondly, we must say compliments to bus drivers because we can see them.   Th

Mirror! Mirror! Am I Beautiful?

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Pic: Fort Garry. Nonqaba waka Msimang Hotels and bathroom mirrors.   Do they have to be so big, so shiny? I freak out when I go to hotels because mirrors are everywhere.   Who told them that we love looking at ourselves in the mirror?   It’s pure torture.   It is enough to make me suicidal. People take extra care when they know they will check into a hotel.   Hair is done, nails done, smooth chins courtesy of Braun electric shavers, no grey nose hairs winking at passers-by, clean underwear for a change and credit cards that will not lead to embarrassment. All that confidence gets a technical knock-out when they decide to take a bath or shower because mirrors reveal the truth, the naked truth. Very few people love seeing themselves below their face.   That is why passport and I.D. photos are strictly faces only.    Super models are cool with their bodies because they have water for breakfast, lunch and dinner, and lettuce, when they dine out.   Actresses too.   They have perso