Don’t sit aside and look
With empty eyes and a castigating mind
Watching the wicked few eating
And drinking to empty of the masses’ brook.
Don’t be angry and just sit
Wishing someone else take notice
Of the ignorant many
Being led astray by idle advice
Don’t start and stop
The noble cause of feeding the mind
With wisdom, knowledge and understanding
From whichever source that you can find
Don’t indulge the foolish jokes
That the world is round and much abound
But work your zeal and play the part
For the earth repays the diligent sower’s ground.
Don’t pray and doubt
That life will and remain the same
But be ye strong within and without
Your unyielding Faith will bring you through.
(C) JAZZKURIA
Monday, November 23, 2009
Sunday, November 15, 2009
Friday, November 6, 2009
The enthralling tale of Jimmy and the gang - PART 1 AND 2
* names (Jimmy and collymore) have been changed to conceal the true identity of, otherwise, flecked characters whose factual reputation has already been compromised.
After much deliberation, *Jimmy gave in. For those who knew Jimmy, this was akin to the second coming of the Messiah. Sheer impossibility. Hitler would have been a vicar before jimmy took a change of heart. That is how hard a stand jimmy had taken on the gang’s incessant quandary. The gravit rain had weighed him in. The elastic limit of his human heart had reached its breaking point. Finally, like a stroke of magic, if not a miracle, jimmy had been touched by the needs of his self- despised lot. He had too. He had tried every trick known to man to flout this gang but their persistence had paid off albeit at a heavy cost. The rich ego of jimmy. He reasoned that for the machine to work, the cogs had to be in place and working. The yin has its yang and a change of heart was the only joker left to be played. And so Jimmy played the last card.
You see , behind the pin striped suits, pointed shoes and the phlegmatic demeanour, inside jimmy lies a man who would put his life on the line to zealously abscond any exorbitant emotional responsibilities for a people well in their prime especially in a third world setting where cases of manager-fights-for-your-rights clarion calls are a norm. The man was taught and cultured differently. Go to elementary school, learn to swim or play a musical instrument, imbibe your way through junior high, cheat your way in campus....but graduate and finally get a formal job and aim high buddy. Thats it! This he did and in time through his political connects, he had reached his pinnacle. Fulfilled his daddy’s wish and become a village hero. Jimmy had become a boss! The kaffir, top honcho, cahuna, you name it at his workplace in his motherland. Well according to the version of his gospel. But the saddest part, you ask? he was the boss of an ignorantly haute riche’ mortals who had entered their sophomore year of their employment with a pristine zeal for a mass upgrade in no uncertain terms. They had worn out their rookie year excitements of a first salary, owned more than 2 pairs of pants, been to movie premiers, feasted on game meat, maxed out their credit cards, the works. Now they were desperate and they needed a punch bag to vent. So jimmy was stuck in between. A hero in the village but a villain at work. Jimmy had worked the “motivational” hope of zion train to the gang but to no avail. They had known better. The scales had fallen from their eyes.The carrot had been dangled until it withered out. Jimmy, in his haste, to impress his ghostly superior, *collymore, he had forgotten the most important lesson; Know when to duck ém!
Collymore was a master of “the ducking craft”. He had perfected it like the precision of a matador’s lance to the raging bull, and there was talk that he had patented it. Promise, Hype and...Duck! By all means and schemes possible. Feign imaginary calls, use VIP lifts, excessive midnight texts for figures,tipping security guards to “deny” your presence anytime you are in the vicinity, never answer calls and the best, be in endless meetings. Well, credit to Jimmy, he had Jimmy employed meticulously the meeting trick but the downside was that his office was the gang’s epicentre. He had done all he could. He had supplied occasional hard drinks to opium the masses at the team building events, endured heaving cases in his car, hidden behind his 21’inch computer under the sliding chair, cast occasional glances at the corner of his eyes, black forested the damn feminine community, avoided the morning trance-inducing chants. Everything. His deputies were novices and docile in nature. One thought leadership required literal positioning of staff according to their height and age in the office to improve performance and the other one, well, hard as it is to say this, he actually strolled aimlessly pondering on how he will reinvent the moppet, sometimes bursting unconsciously “eureka”!!”eureka”!!. Hopeless. Funny thing, they were proud of their positions. So Jimmy gave in. His only condition? Go,Go ,Go....but further now, GO BEYOND HITHER!! jimmy had given in, but only he knew.
PART 2 - THE FINAL CHAPTER
Disclaimer: The author appreciates the full import of his narration and wishes to state that far from being informed by antipathy, he be au fait with the need to laugh at ourselves as the biggest statement to our reconciliation with our past and its marvelous deeds.
And so like all fabled legends, Jimmy and the gang did roll into the sunset, the details of which will best be put in context at the article’s end. …but to further appreciate the dynamics of the team and its intrigues, jimmy’s brief did not end with his immediate team. I aver to you ladies and gentlemen, the aptly named bunch of hippies; “Outbound”. A troupe comprising of 9 anomalous members that were a product of a generous whim auspiced as “diversifying portfolio” in the ever growing card business. This was a dream team with a pipe dream- to be their own managers!! Now, these bunch were way, waaaaay in over their heads with this one. They would create their own leads, call 10 clients in 8 hours, do their own version of MI and send it to an arbitrarily nondescript call centre manager at the tail end of the business day and anxiously wait for their emoluments on the famed 24th.Wow! Idyllic Imagination even by Hollywood standards!! This was their lot.
To be fair to Jimmy, He inherited this team, never was sure what they did, couldn’t care less what their names were and he never really owned them. Who did? He, however, did accommodate them and especially when his gang’s work needed an extra pair of hands, he would pluck a few from the outbound to get the job done. On occasions, when hosting a special delegate from upper echelons, who would come to pay a courtesy call to the Tele-centre, Jimmy would let his guest surmise that it was “all his team” if only it would auger well to his seniors and give him that odd pat on the back for increased responsibility; read B5.If the guest pressed for details, He would disassociate himself as the Levite priests would Samaritan lepers and beckoned one of the Outbounders cook themselves in their own oil by explaining themselves and their damned origins.
So this cohabitation endured time and served its logic; under the radar they did their business. “Don’t ask, Don’t tell” being the mantra the outbounders held and would fervently fight to the nail any suggestions that they were a non-existential busy-body entity. This worked well for them. They forged genuine camaraderie and it seemed their utopian job was God- sent; No performance threats, No supervisors, No Red and Green Whiteboard awash with sales targets; No, None of that. For a year and a half they glided by and each held unto his own up until the ill-timed mass upgrade jitters started doing rounds in Jimmy’s gang. This was to be followed up by key management reps coming over to assure the gang that their cries had been heard and it was only a matter of when and not if that the upgrade will be effected.”Carrot and stick ‘em” trick would always work on the gang and by now fraternities and sororities between the teams had enmeshed and the revolution had caught up. The outbounders, for some outlandish reason, introspected themselves, re-evaluated their worth and alarm bells began to ring. They wanted in! Well, a few of them .But the few were the noisiest and the sluggards; but they wanted in. Everything! Plus a renewed contract that had the term
“ PERMANENT” in BOLD, NEW TIMES ROMAN AND FONT 28 !!!!!!
Fully inscribed and watermarked therein. The scales had fallen from their eyes. The botched election and its economical implications had adversely hit them too. They wanted recognition, assimilation, well defined TOR’s (Terms of Reference), a visible manager, their own tea and tea bags, flat screen computers and a group hug. Was that a lot to ask for? They had grown tired too. Hell, they had exhausted their leads within a month of their employment and its human nature, after misusing their post paid lines calling their lovers, some calling their maids to find out how many times the baby had sneezed, etc to have conscience stricken hearts. So next, as Maslow’s hierarchical needs established, so too they had moved to their next phase and sought significance. Anyway, anyhow did they seek it. But they had forgotten one simple law. The law of cause and effect.
Meanwhile, Jimmy’s gang push for an upgrade did materialize…yes, they were locationally upgraded. But this was done strategically. To weed out the atwolis, karuas and khalwales that agitated the well meaning, easy going folk. To all corners were they dispersed like the biblical Israelites. Time heals all wounds and it did. To some, motherhood brought solace, to some, greener pastures were sought, the entrepreneurial spirits started businesses while exploiting the company resources to the hilt, while some changed stations. A couple enriched and contributed mass profits to aid Mr. Gerald Mahinda’s firm and PD leading to his promotion to South Africa. Others coped and hoped all the while keeping Mwangemi busy round the clock.
Collymore’s lucky streak came to an end and was eventually found out. His 2 decades of service went down without a plaque of recognition. His dues massively deducted for owed loan repayments and maxed out cards, his repute was in tatters, no ex-gratia to boot, and his glowing embers of a distinguished career could not be rekindled even with the astrological Maya Indians and was last heard and seen attending to his copious phone calls. Old habits do indeed die hard. He’s yet to issue a statement explaining his take of things but I wouldn’t hold my breath on that one. As for Jimmy, his whereabouts remain unknown to the author. Tele-centre was rejuvenated and re-injected with new faces from Og Mandino’s “Greatest salesmen of the world” {pun intended} to cog that tireless machine and it still strives on. Its 5th year anniversary will be observed soon. And please don’t ask where new leads come from. The business still runs, doesn’t it? Take a toss and go get yourself a Kilele brand yoghurt!
Outbound lived up to its name. Literally. According to Collins English Dictionary ,Definition: Adj. 1 .Outbound – “that is going out or leaving”; “leaving a place or a position”; “an outgoing steamship”. The third definition particularly resonates. The team hounded itself out of existence. Its members now ply new trades .Some went to try new careers in pharmaceutical fields, others to NGO’s, others started Children homes and others lucky enough were accommodated to the larger costumer service team at the head quarters and their subservience was bought without a whimper. Sad, but that’s life. Now we know why God attaches so much importance to a name.
Lay-offs and forced resignations would soon be effected to “deadwood” top management in the name of “human resource restructuring processes” and as is the case, brown A4 envelopes were back in vogue. The wise ones who had got wind of it joined forces with the competition but a huge chunk went the way of Captain Edward John Smith and sank down in pride and full regalia. The toothless union still enjoys its benefits and exists to serve its masters and not its members.
As for the acts of Card centre, its offshoots and other events of jimmy’s reign, his gizmo-obsessed juniors, are they not written and recorded in the annotations and hearts of its victims, collaborators, and its faithful servants? Jimmy’s reign lasted for a time and half a time and there are no official records about his successor.
After much deliberation, *Jimmy gave in. For those who knew Jimmy, this was akin to the second coming of the Messiah. Sheer impossibility. Hitler would have been a vicar before jimmy took a change of heart. That is how hard a stand jimmy had taken on the gang’s incessant quandary. The gravit rain had weighed him in. The elastic limit of his human heart had reached its breaking point. Finally, like a stroke of magic, if not a miracle, jimmy had been touched by the needs of his self- despised lot. He had too. He had tried every trick known to man to flout this gang but their persistence had paid off albeit at a heavy cost. The rich ego of jimmy. He reasoned that for the machine to work, the cogs had to be in place and working. The yin has its yang and a change of heart was the only joker left to be played. And so Jimmy played the last card.
You see , behind the pin striped suits, pointed shoes and the phlegmatic demeanour, inside jimmy lies a man who would put his life on the line to zealously abscond any exorbitant emotional responsibilities for a people well in their prime especially in a third world setting where cases of manager-fights-for-your-rights clarion calls are a norm. The man was taught and cultured differently. Go to elementary school, learn to swim or play a musical instrument, imbibe your way through junior high, cheat your way in campus....but graduate and finally get a formal job and aim high buddy. Thats it! This he did and in time through his political connects, he had reached his pinnacle. Fulfilled his daddy’s wish and become a village hero. Jimmy had become a boss! The kaffir, top honcho, cahuna, you name it at his workplace in his motherland. Well according to the version of his gospel. But the saddest part, you ask? he was the boss of an ignorantly haute riche’ mortals who had entered their sophomore year of their employment with a pristine zeal for a mass upgrade in no uncertain terms. They had worn out their rookie year excitements of a first salary, owned more than 2 pairs of pants, been to movie premiers, feasted on game meat, maxed out their credit cards, the works. Now they were desperate and they needed a punch bag to vent. So jimmy was stuck in between. A hero in the village but a villain at work. Jimmy had worked the “motivational” hope of zion train to the gang but to no avail. They had known better. The scales had fallen from their eyes.The carrot had been dangled until it withered out. Jimmy, in his haste, to impress his ghostly superior, *collymore, he had forgotten the most important lesson; Know when to duck ém!
Collymore was a master of “the ducking craft”. He had perfected it like the precision of a matador’s lance to the raging bull, and there was talk that he had patented it. Promise, Hype and...Duck! By all means and schemes possible. Feign imaginary calls, use VIP lifts, excessive midnight texts for figures,tipping security guards to “deny” your presence anytime you are in the vicinity, never answer calls and the best, be in endless meetings. Well, credit to Jimmy, he had Jimmy employed meticulously the meeting trick but the downside was that his office was the gang’s epicentre. He had done all he could. He had supplied occasional hard drinks to opium the masses at the team building events, endured heaving cases in his car, hidden behind his 21’inch computer under the sliding chair, cast occasional glances at the corner of his eyes, black forested the damn feminine community, avoided the morning trance-inducing chants. Everything. His deputies were novices and docile in nature. One thought leadership required literal positioning of staff according to their height and age in the office to improve performance and the other one, well, hard as it is to say this, he actually strolled aimlessly pondering on how he will reinvent the moppet, sometimes bursting unconsciously “eureka”!!”eureka”!!. Hopeless. Funny thing, they were proud of their positions. So Jimmy gave in. His only condition? Go,Go ,Go....but further now, GO BEYOND HITHER!! jimmy had given in, but only he knew.
PART 2 - THE FINAL CHAPTER
Disclaimer: The author appreciates the full import of his narration and wishes to state that far from being informed by antipathy, he be au fait with the need to laugh at ourselves as the biggest statement to our reconciliation with our past and its marvelous deeds.
And so like all fabled legends, Jimmy and the gang did roll into the sunset, the details of which will best be put in context at the article’s end. …but to further appreciate the dynamics of the team and its intrigues, jimmy’s brief did not end with his immediate team. I aver to you ladies and gentlemen, the aptly named bunch of hippies; “Outbound”. A troupe comprising of 9 anomalous members that were a product of a generous whim auspiced as “diversifying portfolio” in the ever growing card business. This was a dream team with a pipe dream- to be their own managers!! Now, these bunch were way, waaaaay in over their heads with this one. They would create their own leads, call 10 clients in 8 hours, do their own version of MI and send it to an arbitrarily nondescript call centre manager at the tail end of the business day and anxiously wait for their emoluments on the famed 24th.Wow! Idyllic Imagination even by Hollywood standards!! This was their lot.
To be fair to Jimmy, He inherited this team, never was sure what they did, couldn’t care less what their names were and he never really owned them. Who did? He, however, did accommodate them and especially when his gang’s work needed an extra pair of hands, he would pluck a few from the outbound to get the job done. On occasions, when hosting a special delegate from upper echelons, who would come to pay a courtesy call to the Tele-centre, Jimmy would let his guest surmise that it was “all his team” if only it would auger well to his seniors and give him that odd pat on the back for increased responsibility; read B5.If the guest pressed for details, He would disassociate himself as the Levite priests would Samaritan lepers and beckoned one of the Outbounders cook themselves in their own oil by explaining themselves and their damned origins.
So this cohabitation endured time and served its logic; under the radar they did their business. “Don’t ask, Don’t tell” being the mantra the outbounders held and would fervently fight to the nail any suggestions that they were a non-existential busy-body entity. This worked well for them. They forged genuine camaraderie and it seemed their utopian job was God- sent; No performance threats, No supervisors, No Red and Green Whiteboard awash with sales targets; No, None of that. For a year and a half they glided by and each held unto his own up until the ill-timed mass upgrade jitters started doing rounds in Jimmy’s gang. This was to be followed up by key management reps coming over to assure the gang that their cries had been heard and it was only a matter of when and not if that the upgrade will be effected.”Carrot and stick ‘em” trick would always work on the gang and by now fraternities and sororities between the teams had enmeshed and the revolution had caught up. The outbounders, for some outlandish reason, introspected themselves, re-evaluated their worth and alarm bells began to ring. They wanted in! Well, a few of them .But the few were the noisiest and the sluggards; but they wanted in. Everything! Plus a renewed contract that had the term
“ PERMANENT” in BOLD, NEW TIMES ROMAN AND FONT 28 !!!!!!
Fully inscribed and watermarked therein. The scales had fallen from their eyes. The botched election and its economical implications had adversely hit them too. They wanted recognition, assimilation, well defined TOR’s (Terms of Reference), a visible manager, their own tea and tea bags, flat screen computers and a group hug. Was that a lot to ask for? They had grown tired too. Hell, they had exhausted their leads within a month of their employment and its human nature, after misusing their post paid lines calling their lovers, some calling their maids to find out how many times the baby had sneezed, etc to have conscience stricken hearts. So next, as Maslow’s hierarchical needs established, so too they had moved to their next phase and sought significance. Anyway, anyhow did they seek it. But they had forgotten one simple law. The law of cause and effect.
Meanwhile, Jimmy’s gang push for an upgrade did materialize…yes, they were locationally upgraded. But this was done strategically. To weed out the atwolis, karuas and khalwales that agitated the well meaning, easy going folk. To all corners were they dispersed like the biblical Israelites. Time heals all wounds and it did. To some, motherhood brought solace, to some, greener pastures were sought, the entrepreneurial spirits started businesses while exploiting the company resources to the hilt, while some changed stations. A couple enriched and contributed mass profits to aid Mr. Gerald Mahinda’s firm and PD leading to his promotion to South Africa. Others coped and hoped all the while keeping Mwangemi busy round the clock.
Collymore’s lucky streak came to an end and was eventually found out. His 2 decades of service went down without a plaque of recognition. His dues massively deducted for owed loan repayments and maxed out cards, his repute was in tatters, no ex-gratia to boot, and his glowing embers of a distinguished career could not be rekindled even with the astrological Maya Indians and was last heard and seen attending to his copious phone calls. Old habits do indeed die hard. He’s yet to issue a statement explaining his take of things but I wouldn’t hold my breath on that one. As for Jimmy, his whereabouts remain unknown to the author. Tele-centre was rejuvenated and re-injected with new faces from Og Mandino’s “Greatest salesmen of the world” {pun intended} to cog that tireless machine and it still strives on. Its 5th year anniversary will be observed soon. And please don’t ask where new leads come from. The business still runs, doesn’t it? Take a toss and go get yourself a Kilele brand yoghurt!
Outbound lived up to its name. Literally. According to Collins English Dictionary ,Definition: Adj. 1 .Outbound – “that is going out or leaving”; “leaving a place or a position”; “an outgoing steamship”. The third definition particularly resonates. The team hounded itself out of existence. Its members now ply new trades .Some went to try new careers in pharmaceutical fields, others to NGO’s, others started Children homes and others lucky enough were accommodated to the larger costumer service team at the head quarters and their subservience was bought without a whimper. Sad, but that’s life. Now we know why God attaches so much importance to a name.
Lay-offs and forced resignations would soon be effected to “deadwood” top management in the name of “human resource restructuring processes” and as is the case, brown A4 envelopes were back in vogue. The wise ones who had got wind of it joined forces with the competition but a huge chunk went the way of Captain Edward John Smith and sank down in pride and full regalia. The toothless union still enjoys its benefits and exists to serve its masters and not its members.
As for the acts of Card centre, its offshoots and other events of jimmy’s reign, his gizmo-obsessed juniors, are they not written and recorded in the annotations and hearts of its victims, collaborators, and its faithful servants? Jimmy’s reign lasted for a time and half a time and there are no official records about his successor.
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