BEEing Mr Important

Every time I try and defend this issue, I get taken back two steps. What issue you may wonder. The issue of the ignorant black executive, silly. Not stupid by any stretch of the imagination. No sire. This guy is possibly well educated. If he is not, he is quite experienced in the world of business, through either his own efforts or those of BEE. He has only one problem. He likes being the “only black”. I won’t go deep into this at this time, suffice to say this guy always boasts to whoever has the stomach to listen, about how he was the only black to do this or that, and how in most of his directorships he is still the only black. As if that is some sort of achievement. His ignoramus arse doesn’t realise how many others he is closing doors on by keeping this dumb “only black” tag.

I’m only mentioning this as a precursor to what I really wanna talk about; the ignorant black executive. This one is rampant, probably more rampant than the corrupt politician. Or maybe it’s the same guy? Doesn’t matter. Ignorant black. Very very important black. So important that he keeps all sorts of staff working under him. Better if most of them are white; that way he feels superior, like he has defeated colonialism, slavery and apartheid all by himself. All at once. Best if these folk call him sir or Mr So and So. Whatever man!

What is the BEEf with Mr So and So? Well this big shot never returns calls. Never. Those who know me will tell you that sometimes I don’t answer my phone myself for whatever reason. Not at all. But they will also tell you that if they leave a message I will be sure to call, SMS or email them back. I will. Promise. Mr BEEg Shot doesn’t even keep his own PDA cell phone; he has two PAs for that, one for each phone. And they always want to know what you are calling their boss for. “What is it in connection with?” I’ve heard more times than I want to remember. “Email me details of what you want to talk to him about, and I’ll get back to you with an answer”. Dude, are you Mandela or something? Are you the keeper of the golden key to heaven? Damn!

Someone I know once called 40 CEOs of companies in Mzansi as part of his research while completing his MBA. Twenty were black, the other half white. Twenty got back to him and provided all the answers he sought. In fact, one even called him personally, all the way from London, apologising for not being able to entertain him because he was overseas, but promising to do so as soon as he was back in Mzansi. Which he did. Twenty totally ignored his calls, emails, pleas…Guess which 20 was which. Ja. That’s right. Mr BEEg, chasing borrowed paper, forgetting that to build a winning nation you need to inspire the next generation.

I was reminded of this story today when I was reviewing some proposals I had emailed to 25 government departments in the past year. Twenty five I say. Of the 25, only 4 are headed by white people. I got back five responses, only one from a black HOD. Are the other 20 black HODs too busy to hit me back? Maybe they are worried I want to be the second black and take away their status? I promise, your little job with the 5x5 office is safe from me. Or am I just too small a fish to swim alongside them? We all know the wheel turns, so maybe some day I will also be a BEEg fish who refuses to swim with THEM? Looking forward to it!

IS OUR MEDICINE SICK?

Today I bought medicine worth R73 from the pharmacy. Cash. I had a chest complaint you see, went to the doctor (call him Dr J) and he told me I may be developing asthma whilst reassuring me that even people older than I have developed the respiratory disease from time to time “I’m sure you’ll be clear by the end of the week, failing which come back and see me”. So he handed me a piece of paper with three things on it; an antibiotic, a cough mixture and an asthma spray. I can’t remember what was spent on this deal, I’m pretty sure it came close to R500. Cash. I know by now you are probably asking “why doesn’t this idiot have medical aid like the rest of us?” Let’s just say I had personal issues with them, which have now been sorted out and we are back together again in a loving, 50/50 relationship, which begins at the start of June and will see me donating a few thousand to them and others who took the gym, movie, and other-non-real-freebies option every month.

Back to the pharmacy. This medicine didn’t help me much and I went back after running empty on two out of the three. The guy just said “ag don’t worry, these things usually take quite a bit of time to clear”. R500 later. Then he sent me to the pharmacy, for one bottle of cough mixture, worth R73. And there I was, thinking the government had fought a brave war against the pharmaceutical industry, fighting for little naïve people like myself and others who believe medicines are expensive. I may be wrong of course, I mean I don’t live on a hill in a place called “Something Valley” or “Blah blah Estate” or “So and So Hills”, therefore even when bread prices rise from R6.80 a loaf to R7.20 I feel it. I feel it hard.

How do the really poor people cope against this in our beloved Mzansi? You know I had to pay an extra R50 to see this oke Dr J because I hadn’t made an appointment to come see him. Actually when I called to make this appointment, which everyone must do as soon as they get sick, I was told there was no space anymore, all the doctors were fully booked and extremely busy today. Politely though, the nice lady at reception said I could come sit and wait for someone to finish so I can see a doctor, but that would cost me an extra R50 because I don’t have an appointment. I get there and there are two people in the queue and both are on their way in. Two minutes later I’m able to see Dr J. Regardless, 50 bucks gone.

Is it me or is our entire medical industry quite sick at the moment? Don’t get me wrong, the profession is amongst the best in the world, I know this for a fact. Yet somewhere along the way, the “father of modern medicine” Hippocrates, made way for Hypercrites, the guy who is only interested in meeting certain patient targets so he can buy that latest Mercedes-Benz.

My grandfather loved his fancy cars. In fact, the family still has his 1970s red Mustang, full left-hand drive and all. He was a medical doctor, the first black one in the district of Germiston. Yet people would queue up outside his home surgery not just for his excellent medicine, but also his friendship and warm reception. The guy I went to see last week – call him Dr J – introduced himself to me again today. “Hello, I’m Dr J.” Later he asked what medicine I was given the last time I was there. My word.

EmptyN cuts vote

On Saturday I started sending SMSs to the number supplied for the SA Music Awards, trying to vote for my favourite artist in the Record of the Year category. I know, started a little late for true, but I figured since my man hadn’t done much to promote himself either, he probably wasn’t counting on my vote anyway. Anyway, I didn’t end up sending any of those SMSs. What ended up happening was that because I use a company I’ll call VotaCon and not one called EmptyN, the network wouldn’t let me cast my vote for my artist to win. I don’t know how many times I tried to send it and it would not go. Several times even wondered if I hadn’t run out of airtime, but I had plenty of that stored up.

Eventually it dawned on my dumb arse that EmptyN was punishing me for not using their network in my everyday life, that the SMS line was only open to EmptyN customers. Bye bye consumer choice, Y’ello giant corporate squid. Everywhere you go. What a lost opportunity! By denying me and millions of other cell phone users outside their control the right to vote they surely lost major revenue, didn’t they? How shortsighted! It’s no wonder EmptyN has been running second to VotaCon ever since the race began in 1994. Yes they’ll tell you they are bigger than Vota outside of SA and that Vota had a whole year’s headstart blah blah blah, excuses excuses. Truth is, it’s myopia of this nature that has left EmptyN licking their wounds each year subscriber results are announced.

Funny enough, I’ve always had a soft spot for EmptyN, even on Saturday I still wished they could catch up and overtake VotaCon in the SA subscriber game. Today I don’t wish that anymore. Today I wish someone like Cell C or Virgin Mobile can rise up and take out both these cell phone giants and realise my dream of experiencing low cell phone costs and free SMSs. I wish.

Generations of Addicts

We all have our bad habits, so please forgive me when I share one of mine. It’s called Generations. You know what it is, a television drama shown on SABC 1 every night, 20:00. See, I even know what time it plays. Bad bad habit. I follow each episode, sometimes pretending not to, but I know that Paul Mashaba has been pretending to be a married woman, chatting online with Karabo Moroka, while his daughter Grace Mashaba, dating a dirty little rap star known as Ajax, is totally oblivious to the fact that Paul is not her real father. His brother Kenneth is. Kenneth Mashaba speaks sePedi, as he should. Brother Paul speaks uncanny isiZulu, just like a native of KwaZulu Natal. How? I have no idea.

Lately two new characters have appeared, a certain Dumisani Something and his wife, Something Something. The two are not remarkable in any way; they really add no spice to the events at Generations. Maybe they will later, I don’t know. What I do know is that the lady Something claims to have done a lot of modeling in her days before becoming a housewife. “Was she a body double in The Lord of the Rings perhaps, as a hobbit?” I ask myself. Doesn’t make sense to me as she doesn’t seem a centimetre taller than 1.75m, which is the very least any wannabe “model” should ever be. Maybe she modeled shoes? Shoes for kids? I know the producers claim escapism over realism, but still. Khethiwe Buthelezi as a model? During her first “shoot” I thought she was reacting to sighting a wet frog when she was in fact, smiling. I can’t wait to see if she causes any real trouble for Sibusiso Dlomo and his finance who went home for endless days after giving birth and expects her man to have been waiting around for her.