“Master Jim” and the big move

My seven year old has, without a doubt, a very old soul.  I should have known that when he decided that 3 June (his initial due date) was not good enough and that he will stay put until the 5th of July.   Also the big frown on his face when he eventually emerged should have been a tell-tale sign as well.

A week or so ago he got very upset with me for interupting him mid-sentence.  “You and my dad always think you know what I want to say, but you know, I have a mind of my own that works very very well.  Sometimes I want to say something else and that is way I am so misunderstood”.  Oh my, I thought this only started at 16!

Last night when I got home he proudly proclaimed that he intends to change his name to Master Jim.  He thought it would suit him better that the one we agonized over for weeks and caused a huge family tiff.   I explained to him that it is not as simple as just changing it.  You have to be 18 and apply in the Government Gazette etc.  “Oh” was the only reply I got and I figured “Mmm, that was easy”.  I should have known better…

5 minutes later he came to me phone book in the one hand and pen and paper in the other:  Mommy, I’ll start writing the application, while you find the number, the numbers are way to small and becides, I don’t know the president’s name.

After a long, long discussion, we came to the agreement that, for now he will keep his name in public and at home he shall henceforth be referred to as Master Jim.  That settled then.

We are moving into our new house.  Same town, just a bit closer to work and bigger and cheaper.  Paying for a view when you only get home after dark just was not doing it for us anymore! 

We started packing up the car with whatever small things we can fit in there and took off.  While driving, we here him talking in all sorts of different accents.  I looked back to see him translating the conversation between his teddy bears.  At seven he owns 7 teddy bears, each with his own name and don’t you dare get a name wrong (“teddy bears have feelings too, you know”).  Turns out Mr Fluffy Love was telling Mr Petty Bones that he is afraid of moving to the new house because he is scared there might be monsters.  I don’t beat around the bush, so I asked him straight out whether he was scared of moving to the new house.  He immediately gave me his straight upper lip look and said “you are confused mommy, it’s not me, it’s Mr Fluffy Love”.  After another long talk about the new house and the tree in the garden with the tyre swing and the vegetable patch and the dog (that he’s wanted for so long), Mr Fluffly Love decided that it’s not such a bad thing after all.

He’s already in love with the place and have put in an order for a TV for his room as well as “huge pictures of girls on bikes”…

Carpe Diem

Wat anders kan mens doen?  Wanneer jy wakker word en voordeur toe strompel met slaap in die oe en ‘n gaap van hier onder in jou maag en die Suid-Ooster wind klap jou wakker en dra met hom die reuke en klanke van die vroeg oggend vissermanne.  Wat anders kan mens doen as om te se: Carpe Diem, today is my day!

Soos ons leer by The Greatest Salesman in the world (dankie, dankie, duisend dankies Og Mandino!): Today I will live like it is my last, I will multiply my efforts.  I am unique, I am nature’s greatest miracle!

Koebaai vir gister en hello vandag, kom ons kyk wat jy vandag na my kant toe gaan gooi!

Hello World!

Well, HELLO WORLD! For months now I have been reading the posts and contemplating starting my own blog, but you know what it’s like, right?  It’s like going to the dentist or washing the car, one of those things that can wait…

Today, as I got home after one of THOSE days, I decided, that’s it.  I’m blogging.  Somewhere, somehow I have to find a way to vent and this is it.  So here goes…

I work retail, mmmm fun! After a long day of going, yes sir, no sir, three bags full sir, all I wanted to do was get home, have a good cup of coffee, a siggie (or two) and catch up on the blog reading.  However, this is the scene that I walked into at 19:45:

A 7-year old with more energy that 10 ravers on speed and red-bull, running around naked as the day he was born (because “I’ve decided I don’t like clothes anymore, mommy”) while hammering away at little chunks of cement, on the living room tiles, he picked up in the garden (because “I  just want to find you some diamonds, mommy).  Cats twirling around my feet, for love, attention, food and a clean litter box (because they can’t do it in the garden like normal cats!) and stumbling over boxes (because I’m moving in two days and oh yes, have I mentioned, I work retail!).

BIG WHOOOOOSAAAAA MOMENT!!!

That was when I decided that this is my time to blog… let it all out in long, slow breaths and blog.

First, there was the office politics: two girls vying for my attention, trying to score browny points with the boss, each with their own version of a story, which by the way turned out to be half truths on both their parts.  Solution: call both into the office, tell both stories as they were told to you and watch the fireworks.  Not the best solution you may think, but I’ve tried everything over the past 10 months and nothing worked.  Maybe this will.

Then there was a call from a manager at another branch telling me to call this client as she wants to speak to me.  About what, he wouldn’t say.  Mystery intrigues me, so I called her.  Oh My Hat!  This lady of about 70 starts going off at me for a full 8 minutes about the “fraud” in my shop, about how pathetic we are, yada-yada-yada, just to figure out that it all happened at another shop!  To clear up any confusion, I manage a franchised branch of a popular cellular service provider.  After another 10 minutes on the phone, I’ve managed to calm her down and invited her for coffee and cookies next week to try and sort out the mess.  Just as I’m almost done with this, I notice one of the girls bouncing up and down next to me, phone in hand “someone wants to talk to you”.  Now, any normal human being would think that they can take a message.  Aaaaah, not where I work.  So I politely get old lady off the phone and onto the next one.  Mysterious lady number two (by the way, if you EVER get to read this: I know your voice by now, we only speak about 10 times a week!): hi, I need to buy a data bundle, can I just give you my credit card details over the phone.  No, you can’t, we never have and never will do a transaction like that.  Turns out manager no 1 who first dealt with old lady, felt obliged to phone head office and tell them about “the fraud in my shop, that I know about”.  Wake up dude, get the facts and then go running like a wet-nosed puppy with a floppy tail!

Then there was the man very politely (at first) telling me that I can take his daughters two phones and shove them where the sun have to been in a long, long, long time.  After sitting with him for two and a half hours we reached the conclusion that daughter number one does not like the phone and wants a new one and she wants the limit on her account lifted becasue she can’t make enought phone calls and there is nothing, actually, wrong with the phone.

Then there was the signage guys.  Cellular service provider contracted the repair of my signage to sub-contractor  number one, who felt that driving 150km to us is too far, so they sub-sub-contracted (does the word even exist?) it to the locals.  What a mistake!  First monkey number 1 asked me what is wrong with the sign?  Well, do you see any light shining from behind the lettering as it should, no, well then I guess that’s the problem.  So he leaves and comes back two hours later with re-inforcements: another monkey and two ladies, quite obviously restricted to office work on a normal day, in ski-pants and high-heels and enough make-up to cover the New York Fashion Week, all staring at the sign, asking me where it opens.  At this point I felt like being really bitchy, but OK, keep it together girl, you can do this.  I don’t know how it opens, if it is supposed to open, why it is not working or how to fix it.  They came to the conclusion that: 1 – they need to get a permit from Centre Management to work on the sign, 2 – they need to take the whole thing down to replace the ballist (this entails literally removing the roll-bolts from roof and taking it down completely), whereafter they can fix it.  Now, I don’t work in signage, never have and, God-willing, never will, but I know that you don’t need to take down the whole thing to fix it.  Anyhoo, they left and will be back next week “as it is a big job” and we will see how it all plays out.

OK, don’t know how long a post is supposed to be, but, in a nutshell that is what you can expect in days to come.  Hope you enjoy and visit soon!