There was a boot-to-bonnet jam just past Jamhuri Park that saw me take over two hours to get to Hurlingham. Since it was official that
I was on sick leave, and was sending in my articles via email, it was a shocker to be seen.
Of the most stupefied to see me was the receptionist who looked as though she’d just seen a ghost. I gave her a smile that said
‘Whacha’ya staring at?’ as I headed for the stairs.
It was around quarter past noon and though I expected many people to be out looking for news, or stealing on the paper’s time in the sad excuse of early lunch, I went straight to the third floor. I entered Purity’s tiny office (the paper’s standard for staff like Purity) without knocking. What do you expect? I was mad as hell, and I’m the boss. During such times civility takes leave.
I found her in a not-oh-so compromising position with Leo – Leonard Allan Mambo – the fast rising political reporter and columnist. I did not even care about pleasantries.
“What do you think you are trying to do?” I said. The two seemed like a toddler who’d been caught stealing sugar and was pleading saying ‘Mommy, it’s not me’.
“What does it look like we are doing?”
“I didn’t mean you, as in the two of you, but you.”
“How is it a concern of yours?”
“Don’t get me started with you. First, to the best of my knowledge, office romances are prohibited in Yedioth Ahronoth, and that’s a policy, but I’m least interested in your sordid behavior now,” I said and paused. “Are you trying to crumble this paper down? Believe me; you won’t even make it to…”
“For God’s sake, what do you think you…” she cut me short before I said what I wanted.
“Would you give me time to say what I want to say, or are you ready to face a disciplinary action for insubordination?” I said, peeved.
“Yeah, like I care.”
Leo tried to interject, like come in between us before claws started scratching but I stopped him with my right hand like a traffic cop.
“Get this straight, Purity, and let it sink into that head of yours,” I said. “Operations of this paper are confidential, not to say information you stumble on. You know that very well. How dare you take it to outsiders, even to a point of calling lawyers to stop publication of my article? You went too far, Purity.”
“You can accuse me of whatever you want, and anything you feel like, but hell knows I don’t know what the heck you are talking about.”
“The hell you don’t know,” I said. “This is your first and last warning. Next time you try to do what you did, get it from me, you’ll kiss your job here goodbye; otherwise you’d kiss my denim-clad a**…” and with that I stomped out of her dinghy office.
I went straight to Shameel’s – Editor-in-Chief – office to iron out some issues. One, Purity’s behavior; two, why I had to withdraw my story the last minute causing a two-hour delay, and three, how to mitigate similar future occurrences.
Shameel is down to earth. Rumour in the corridors has it that he’s the hottest punk in town, and the Romeo of Yedioth Ahronoth.
Well, I would agree with the grapevine, but I keep such things to myself. Eve had featured her in her Celebrityosis gossip column of the Friday Nation’s Zuqka magazine. Chicks had fallen for him head over heels, the fantasy celeb all girls fantasize but never get close to.
Skirts in Yedioth Ahronoth fight for his attention, but too bad for them (and lucky for him) he hunts in untrodden land that no one knows, or ever imagines.
Okay, here’s the deal. I know him as my boss – he is smart, intelligent, focused and a strategist, the top honcho and brain behind everything for Yedioth Ahronoth, Kenya. Remember I said he’s a friend too? Well, that’s for later. I owe you that.
So, we talked and talked over lunch – he ordered pizzas from Gong Hills Hotel, simply because it was his favourite, the hotel that is – to be brought to the office. I left after three hours and went straight home to my novel.
Now that Frank was MIA, and his lawyers had a court order barring publication of his story, I had nothing else to tie me down.
The following day, Thursday, I was at home alternating between writing and caffeinating my already sick system.
As usual, I wouldn’t have missed Friday for anything in the world, partly because of my loyalty to my friends and partly because the doctor at Karen Hospital had given me good news worth celebrating – my plasmapheresis was reducing to once a week for five weeks then I would be OK. The girls spoiled me like a teenager, and yesterday hangover confined me to bed.
My head is clearing and gotten back to ‘Miser and Miseries’.
Gwendolyn gave me a date for tomorrow. She said it’s something to do with her Jicho Pevu episode that would air sometime next week.
Well, I already miss her.
Copyright ©Elove, 2013