So you think you had a bad day? Well, this will cheer you up – promise.
The day started off quite well. Lovely weather, took the dog for a walk up the mountain, made tea and remembered that I couldn’t check my emails because our WiFi wasn’t working – no matter, I’ll use my 3G dongle while I wait for Telkom to fix it. Took my old Merc down to the mechanic because, like me, it wasn’t firing on all pistons.
Left the car there and came back in time to find the painters waiting on my doorstep. “You’re due to start tomorrow.” I said flatly “Ja, but we had a cancellation.”
“Okay then, you can start now” which was countered by “Ja, but where’s the paint?”
Sigh. So I went down to the paint shop and organised the paint. Got back and handed it over. Then sat down to check emails with the 3G dongle. Couldn’t connect.
(The phones haven’t been working for almost a week but, the day before, an enthusiastic Telkom man tried to solve the problem and promptly cut off our internet supply).
I figured it wasn’t connecting because I changed from a contract to a pay-as-you-go about two months ago – so it probably needed topping up. Bugger.
Then the painters said that I’d forgotten to get one of the paint colours (called ‘Pacific Bungalow’ if you’re interested) and they need it now. Decided against telling them it wasn’t on their list in the first place because that would be futile and I needed to top up my 3G dongle anyway.
Sigh.
Back at the paint shop I ordered the stuff and while they were shaking it all up I went into the Vodacom shop and bought some data for the card. The guy tapped all the computer keys and I gave him the money. “How long before it’ll be active?” I asked. “Immediately,” he assured me.
Then the mechanic phoned me on my mobile and told me they’d need the car for at least four days because it wasn’t just spark plugs. It was obviously something far more expensive. Deeper sigh.
Collected paint.
Went back and still couldn’t connect to the internet. Took a valium in preparation for a phone call with Vodacom.
I eventually spoke to a nice lady who said the reason I couldn’t connect was that my sim card was “blocked” because I had “not been RICA’D”. “Oh yes it was” I said. “Oh no it wasn’t,” she said. Eventually I spoke to her supervisor and had a similar conversation but I’d checked some dates in the meantime.
“On the 5th September I went into your shop and bought a sim card for my newly acquired iPad and, at the same time, changed my dongle 3G from contract to pay-as-you-go. Both of these were RICA’D”. Ha! Get out of that one! “So how come my iPad is working and not my dongle?” I added just for spite.
“It’s different” she said “Changing a contract is different to buying a new sim card. I’m terribly sorry but you’ll have to bring in your ID book and utility invoice in your name so we can do the RICA process.”
“But I’ve just come from your bloody shop!”
She was quite kind and said she could lift the “block” for 2 days. “That would be great,” I enthused. “How long before it’s activated?” Pause. “72 hours.”
“So by the time the unblocking takes effect the block will be back on?”
“I’m afraid so.”
Yet another sigh as I went BACK to the Vodacom shop and waited in the queue again. Eventually saw the chap and gave him the number and my ID book and a utility bill.
He tapped away for a minute or so and then held out his hand and asked “can I have the device please?”
My blood froze and between gritted teeth I said “they didn’t tell me I had to bring the fucking dongle with me.”
“Yeah” he smiled “it’s got a 16 digit number inside it and I need that to activate your card.”
Brainwave! Sod it. Do nothing. I’ll buy a NEW sim card for R2 and use that instead. Ha Ha!
“But then you’ll lose all the money you paid for the data earlier this morning” was his answer.
Anyway, I did what most men would do in a situation like that. I phoned my wife.
She opened the dongle and read out the s16 digit code.
Five minutes later I was back in my car heading for home. Sorted.
Got home and saw the Telkom van driving away. “Were the Telkom guys here?” I asked the wife. “Oh yes, everything’s working again – phones, internet everything” she smiled.
I tried to smile back and that’s when one of my front teeth fell out (actually it was a crown).
Oh God. I’ve got meetings in Johannesburg all next week and I look like a skollie.
I phoned my dentist and, being the nice bloke he is, he managed to fit me into his morning schedule. So, back in the car for the 30 minute drive to the dentist.
He prodded, and alternately squirted water then air into my mouth while his assistant tried to suck out my tonsils with that specially designed vacuum cleaner she wields. Anyway, he did a root canal, put in a post and back in went the crown. Handsome as ever again.
I got home and the painter needed thinners and some black braai paint. I didn’t have the energy to argue so I just turned around and went back to the paint shop.
When I get back it was raining too hard for them to work so they knocked off for the day.
I decided to stand out in the garden for a few moments and enjoy the soft rain. As I’m standing there I hear a loud crash. I rush back inside and my wife’s shouting what the hell was that? I say I didn’t know – obviously one of the cats knocked something off a counter – but it couldn’t have been them because she’d seen them both levitate when the crash happened.
Someone must be breaking in then.
I skulk around the house and eventually find what’s happened. In one of the en-suite bathrooms, the porcelain “stand” which is supposed to support the sink (but doesn’t of course – it’s just there to be decorative) just fell off and smashed on the tiled floor. The house was built virtually five years to the day and it chose that precise moment to simply give up and fall off. (I know the feeling).
Perhaps it fell off in sympathy with my tooth?
So I phone the builder to see if it’s covered by my guarantee. Of course, being an intelligent reader, you know what’s coming next don’t you? He reminds me that my house came with a five year guarantee “and how long have you been living there Mr. Brewer?” I mumble “five years and one month”.
He sees the funny side of it and says he’ll come and look at it on Monday anyway.
It’s Friday evening and we decide to go to a local restaurant for dinner.
My tooth fell out again, half way through a pizza, and my dentist doesn’t have an emergency number.
End of a perfect day.
Totally PC joke
Never mind, it’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas so here’s a festive joke (actually it’s not festive but it’s quite funny)….
A woman goes to visit a fortune teller. In a dark and hazy room, peering into a crystal ball, the mystic delivered grave news. ”There’s no easy way to say this, so I’ll just be blunt – prepare yourself to be a widow.
Your husband will die a violent and horrible death this year.” Visibly shaken, the woman stares at the fortune teller’s lined face, then at the single flickering candle, then down at her hands.
She took a few deep breaths to compose herself. She simply had to know.
She met the fortune-teller’s gaze, steadied her voice, and asked her question:
“Will I be found guilty?”
Try out some wassailing (but not at my house please)!
Chris
Brewer’s Droop had humble beginnings as a straightforward letter, sent to my existing and potential clients when I owned an advertising agency. About 80 in total. Now it is read by 30 000 people.
