I thought that I might need to work on my interview technique a bit, but they really seem to want me on board.
If any readers out there are interested, I’ll happily share the lady’s number. With the proviso that you don’t come whining to me when you get ripped off or murdered or something.
I think that’s fair.
Just give me a shout.
When it came down to getting Junior a motor car, we narrowed it down to two different possibilities.
And this is a lot of money and a tight decision, so we went and we researched extensively, and we test drove each of them on a few different occasions.
And of course the salespeople – both men in this case – were lovely and charming and helpful and friendly. But we look past the salespeople and we look at the actual car. Because we’ve met salespeople before.
Still, they had a job to do, and they did it: both extolled the virtues of their option and mildly exaggerated the actual facts on the spec sheet. And to their credit, they didn’t do too much shouting about the negative side of things regarding the other choices out there.
They each got their contact just about right, as well: not too much, not too little. We were neither ignored nor bombarded. And they seemed to respect the fact that we would have to make a choice at some stage. Because… well, we cant afford both. (I’m still not 100% sure that we can afford one.)
So when we finally made a decision, it seemed just good manners to let the one guy know that we were going with the other manufacturer. Not something we had to do, but we’re big on respect and politeness in this household.
And so we sent him a message (all contact both ways had been via Whatsapp apart from the times when we were actually at the dealership), saying thanks for your time, but we’ve chosen to go with the other vehicle, all the best, Us.
His response was friendly and magnanimous:
Ah well. That’s a shame. But thanks for letting me know and all the best.
Ja right. Was it bollocks.
Nothing back. Mr Friendly for the past three weeks couldn’t even be arsed to respond.
Cut us dead.
Because Mr Friendly was actually Mr Salesman-Twat in disguise and it was all an act.
I mean, I shouldn’t have expected anything else but wow. What a two-faced POS.
I’m not naming and shaming. Why stoop to his level?
Just see it – like we have – as a reminder that salespeople are always going to salesperson, and you’d do really well to overlook anything and everything they say and do, and make sure that you are clued up and have everything – EVERYTHING – down in writing.
And just be nice, and as genuine as you can.
We’re going away for a few days tomorrow morning, I haven’t even started thinking about packing, and I spent much of this morning on a wild goose chase still looking for a [redacted] as a Christmas gift for my wife. It seems that the suppliers supplying [redacted]s haven’t supplied enough, and now they’ve all gone on holiday.
Bastards.
Obviously, I can’t reveal what the prospective gift is right now, because my wife sometimes reads this blog (although probably not this post because she’ll be waist deep in gin and tonic for the next few days).
But once I have managed to successfully acquire a [redacted] – because I shall prevail – and once Christmas is all done and dusted, I’ll let you all know what it is and we can all wonder together about why there appears to be a local (global?) shortage of them.
Because [redacted]s seem like the sort of thing that there really shouldn’t be a massive demand for at any time of the year…
especially in summer
…he said, mysteriously.
Incoming from Lucy May Walker, this:
OK. Let’s begin with a couple of disclaimers here.
Firstly, LMW isn’t my favourite artist. No real problem with her, just that her music isn’t really my sort of thing. I’m just mentioning that so you don’t think that my opinion on the above has anything to do with any sort of connection or fondness for her or her work.
And secondly, because she is a mainly acoustic folk music artist, and her stuff is very much thoughtful, thought-provoking, gentle, peaceful music, then any iffy behaviour from the audience is likely to have more of an effect than if someone was to chat through, say Mutter by Rammstein.
But still…
I’m so tired of going to concerts and having to endure people talking through the whole performance. And I recognise that the experience of watching a concert is a very personal thing; different for every person, but honestly – for that exact reason – your behaviour shouldn’t impinge or affect any one else’s experience.
And I have mentioned this so many times before, but it’s symptomatic of the way that people behave everywhere these days: like they are the only ones that matter. I just don’t get it when you have paid A LOT of money (and likely gone to a lot of trouble) to enjoy the music of a band or artist, and then you do something that you could – and should – maybe do literally anywhere else.
Don’t spend five hundred and forty five fecking Rands each to sit on a dark grassy slope and ruin things for people who – really weirdly – have actually turned up at a concert to hear the band playing and not you shouting to your mate about taking junior to the fecking Constantia Uitsig fecking bike park in the morning.
Stay at home.
I just saved you R1090. That’s, like, two overpriced coffees while he’s on the pisspoor dirt track tomorrow. Boom.
Or if you really did pay your Rands to come along to hear the band, then couldn’t your utterly mundane shouty conversation just have waited for an hour and a half?
You bunch of self-absorbed, stereotypical, Southern Suburbs twats.
No wonder everyone hates you.
Yeah. That was from me back in November 2018. And it wasn’t even all of my rant. Click through for the whole thing. I was clearly rather upset after seeing James at Kirstenbosch.
But I’m not alone.
So yes, I’m all for Lucy May Walker’s helpful guide above. Of course, we shouldn’t really need to be telling grown adults how to behave with respect for other people, but hey ho, here we are.
A dead humpback whale was brought ashore onto Hout Bay beach this weekend. This is very unfortunate, but is also just one of those things that happens. You don’t need to blame climate change or toxic oceans here: animals sometimes die, and animals sometimes die in the sea close to a shoreline. And if they are a 14m, 35 tonne humpback whale, you’re possibly more likely to notice them than if they were a small crab. Sadly, they can also be a bit of a hazard. Aside from the smell and the health risks, whale carcasses on the shoreline can also attract sharks, and so removal of the carcass is something that needs to happen timeously.
Usually, the whales which are washed up around the Cape Town coastline are taken – by truck – to the landfill site at Vissershoek. This is a fairly unusual thing, but we’re probably looking at a few every year, so it’s hardly unheard of.
This one seems to have caused a bit of stir though. Maybe because it was moved on a weekend and a nice day when people were out and about.
And just look who commented! With that emoji.
It’s always sad when a family member passes on. Sorry for your loss.
But it was the Reddit post referenced in the link above that really got me laughing.
The original question here:
Was answered in typical Reddit form by a super helpful local user:
“Probably dead”? Amazing.
You think?
Not just popping out of the water and onto a low loader for a Township Tour of Imizamo Yethu and a drink or two in the Constantia Valley before being dropped back into the Atlantic, then?
Dead, you say?
Yes, I think you might be right.
Probably.