Who will bell the flap?
Who is in charge of imported sardines into the country? I really would like to have a tete a tete with the person. Something isn’t going right and I am just not happy about it.
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In those days when we had just two popular brands of sardines in the country, one was sure of how many fishes could be found in a can.
More often than not, three smooth aquatic protein in oil was what I knew of. But these days, all sorts of brands, shapes and sizes have appeared on the market. My issue hasn’t got anything to do with the price. No! It’s got everything to do with the number of fishes found in a can.
I am so angry right now. This is the third consecutive time I am buying a can of sardines for gh¢3.00 only to find inlaid peacefully on its metal bed, one single piece of fish.
Who is in charge of ensuring that all the cans of the various brands bear the same number of fishes? Why can’t we have a uniformed number of fish in each can?
Other times, you open a tin and you have as many as four in there. Some other times too, you can have three. What’s all this? If these inconsistencies don’t cease, I shall embark on a strike action. Yes, I shall stop buying sardines if someone doesn’t do anything about my issue. Anyway, let me get on with my story for today.
You’ve noticed something unconstructive about someone. You wish to draw their attention to it. But you just don’t know how to go about it. What must you do?
There was a time I fell out with a colleague at work. The reason for our discord was simple: he sweated a lot, thereby making the pits between his arms and shoulders, assume an unpleasant odour.
I struggled through with how to make any suggestions in respect of keeping those parts of his body sweat and odour-free. When I couldn’t muster courage to convey my sentiments across to him, an idea popped up for his upcoming birthday.
I bought for him two nicely designed bottles of mildly scented deodorant spray, wrapped them up neatly, and together with a card, handed them over discreetly to him.
What I thought would have merited a show of gratitude rather landed me in trouble with him. He sent me a strong worded mail on our corporate intranet, accusing me of being “too known”.
He stated that I had insulted his ego, and that if he needed those kinds of body sprays, he would have bought them without struggle. He re-wrapped my gifts nicely and returned them to my desk. I have kept that mail till date. Yes, I had to.
Never had my good intentions been so badly misconstrued. I felt so empty and misunderstood that Friday morning at work. For me, I have learnt a great lesson. It’s been three years since.
Ever since, I have been very careful in drawing people’s attention to certain negative issues about themselves. I have ceased from looking for uncalled trouble. But an incident happened yesterday which is really making me feel a bit bassaa.
This whole guilt started at around 3:30p.m yesterday. My colleagues and I had closed from a seminar which had been held in a hotel at La. Four of us in number, we stood close by the cozy reception area, chatting heartily.
I was the only lady among three men, one of whom had made a brilliant presentation at the programme. As we chatted and praised our colleague, my gaze fell on his designer belt. It was a nice brown length of authentic leather.
I admired it so much and wished I could get one to buy for my “shodi” Obodai. Before long, I was unconsciously staring at his pelvic region. Then through no fault of mine, my eyes were fixed on the flap area of his trousers. Alas, his zip was opened. Being the good girl I’ve always been, I immediately took my eyes off, just like any shy girl would do. I started feeling uncomfortable.
How was I to tell him that this was what I had observed … and that he should right the wrong? Suddenly, I couldn’t make any meaningful contribution to what was being discussed anymore, especially when I thought of the fact that he possibly could have stood before the over 30 attendees, to make that presentation with an opened flap.
Had anyone else noticed the opened garage? I wished I could walk away. Trying to make eye contact, I signed at him with my eye to close his fly but he was too engrossed in the conversation and in our praises too, he just couldn’t decipher my antics.
His exposed deep and light blue stripped boxers were sharp, clean and worthy of admiration. Then again, I wished I knew where to buy a pair or two for my Obodai.
How was I to ask him about that? The more I took my eyes off, the more the urge to look and alert this elderly man heightened. As my thoughts ranted on, a call came through on his phone. Walking away to answer it, he bade us goodbye in joy and yelled, “chale, see you guys tomorrow”.
“Is he going home straight from here? Is he making a detour elsewhere? Is he likely to meet a lot of people on his way out of this hotel? How would he feel if he gets home to find out he had started undressing in public without knowing? Would it make him feel bad?” I thought and thought as he walked off with his opened flap.
