New World Order: Customer Service Isn’t Free Anymore!

The relationship manager at my bank thinks we should take our relationship to another level. Yes, ‘Prestige’ concept of banking! Yes, I have a bone to pick with making customers  pay extra for exceptional customer service.

‘Prestige’ concept of banking in my little understanding of it is a package of benefits you pay for that can be offered as part of key differentiators for FREE to woo new customers and retain existing ones. The very basic benefits offered that cut across the board are longer banking hours, a dedicated relationship manager, no queues, tea/coffee as you wait to be served..Bla bla bla..Zzzzz

Aren’t those benefits part of Customer Service?

1. Isn’t it the duty of the bank to employ enough tellers to reduce queueing time? Yes
2. As a customer, why should I pay extra to get the attention of a Relationship Manager? Isn’t my monetary deposit enough?
3. Tea, coffee? C’mon if they employed enough tellers, would I have enough time to have coffee in the bank?
4. A cheque book? Really?
5. Free internal funds transfer? This requires a magician and rocket science, huh?

“ The best things in life are free”  is memorable quote but are they anymore?

When was the last time you didn’t pay for something? In cash or in kind, yes, even favors are paid for in favors. Walk with me on this:

• The ‘free’ parking on the street, did you have to tip the guard for ‘being within’ or helping you reverse?
• The waiter/waitress serving your table, did you tip them for being so nice yet your bill includes a service charge? (Even phones have a tip calculator nowadays!)
• The doorman/butler/concierge at your building’s entrance, did you feel obliged to tip him for being so kind?
• The supermarket guy who packs your supplies and escorts you to your car, did you tip for that yet it is his job?
• Companies offering Customer care through paid calls, the toll free lines never go through!
• ”PRESTIGE‘ concept of banking!

I have no qualms with people who pay for Prestige banking but aren’t some of the benefits meant to be part of exceptional customer service?

With the little knowledge I have in business, I understand that my choice of a product will be guided by among other factors, how the product/service is presented to me. Most of the time I will go for a Service/product which comes with exceptional customer service for free.

A good friend of mine argues that people pay for exceptional Customer Service so they can be treated as special. I beg to differ since the Customer is King and should be treated so whether they can afford to pay for that or not. After all, the customer is your primary employer, keeps you in business.

In this country, Customer Service is dished out on the basis of money, color, race, physical appearance… From your coffee shop to the supermarket, you will be accorded Customer Service based on how, what and  who you are.

It is shameful that this is the new culture. It’s sad that the best things in life aren’t free anymore. They may be appear to be cheap but cheap is expensive. Imagine how much in terms of kachai/lunch/soda/maziwa you’ve to pay out out of your pocket for a service one is already employed to provide?

I know Customer Satisfaction Surveys are now the in-thing but I hope it helps draw attention to problem areas.

“Superb customer service is the feature that the country is crying out for. If you can provide it, you will win over an army of customers. “ Sunny Bindra (Crown Your Customer)

“The next decade is going to ask you to take a quantum leap in how you live, work, and play. Get ready to leave the comfort zone behind.” (@umairh)

I recommend you read: Crown Your Customer

Follow #GoodCSKE and #BadCSKE

*Lights out*

I’m Kenyan. I’m fine with being fine.

Yesterday I dragged my tired self to Java, Galleria for my usual Sunday evening coffee date. 2 waiters and a waitress passed me several times in a span for 25 minutes before they could take my order. I sat right outside the door for crying out loud. No, they didn’t notice me until I asked if there was a spare waiter they could send to my table and what time he/she would be available. I offered to wait or I make my coffee.

The look I got from the waitress was atrocious. She sneered and proceeded to drag her feet as she brought me the menu. Honestly I felt disgusted.

According to her and the people in the surrounding tables, I was being a nuisance. I was disturbing the status quo. I could almost hear someone say I had a stick up my sh!thole. I should shut up and wait till they felt like serving me, right?

At this moment, it hit me. Kenyans don’t like upsetting the balance.

We can’t pull a ‘Libya’ or an ‘Egypt’ for crying out loud. We don’t like our peace  disturbed even if it is for a good and common cause. Try speaking out against discrimination, or demanding for what you’ve paid for or is your right and everyone will distance themselves and you are branded as the town’s mad man. We can’t unite ourselves to work for a better Kenya, Organizers of KenyaFeb28 can tell you this.

Kenyans are fine with being fine. Nooo, doing better is just so much work.

When civil societies are up in arms shouting themselves hoarse about rise in taxes, we curse and cringe at the thought of how bad traffic will be on that day. We get mad at how they are wasting our time and money.

Most Kenyans didn’t participate in #KenyaFeb28 because we’d be busy at work, or have better things to do, or as some asked ‘Who cares’ or ‘What next’?

How many times has the price of fuel been hiked yet we can’t down our tools and take to the streets to show the government who’s boss? I mean it is JUST 4 shillings up, right? What is 4 shillings anyway? *Shrug*

How many times has bus fare been hiked just because it is raining/there’s traffic and we rush in like fools instead of standing strong till they stop this madness? How many times did we board overloaded vehicles because we didn’t care our own safety?

How many times do we bribe our way out just to avoid inconveniences that will eventually stomp out corruption?

As I write this, the Ocampo6 arrived back in the country this morning and are expected to host a rally at Uhuru Park.  40 plus MPs accompanied the 6 suspected perpetrators of the 2007 Post Election Violence to show their support.

These MPs don’t care about the injustice that led to the Hague process, they are setting up shop for 2012 by aligning themselves with the Ocampo6 for influence.

Another crazy one flew off the handle doing shuttle diplomacy using taxpayers money, MY MONEY, to gather support against a process I fully support.

Being the complacent Kenyans that we are, we will put our feet up and fold our arms as we whine about this rally and the participants. Come 2012, we will choose these same guys because we are brain washed to believe they are the ones we know: better the devil you know, right?

Else we will butcher each other while the same leaders who incited us go have high tea at The Serena patting each other’s backs. They’ll go on to doze off in Parliament as they get siting allowances and are raise their salaries at free will.

I was shocked when some IDPs were  interviewed on their thoughts on the ICC process and one says that The Ocampo6 should be brought back to Kenya and forgiven!!!?? How now brown cow?

The ‘middle-class’ of this country who are the majority are failing us. The ‘low-class’ fights and throws stones, uproots railway lines while the ‘middle-class’ stays indoors where it is safe. We blame the low-class people for all the disturbances but we forget they are reacting to a situation. Rise in food and kerosene prices affect these families a hundred-fold.

Don’t for a minute forget that it is money from the middle class people which will pay taxes to repair any damage caused these uprisings, not the low-class’ people’s income because they are not taxable.

I can’t speak for our leaders because they make me sick and we keep re-electing them and that is how we got ourselves in this mess in the first place.

As for the ‘high-class’, they just don’t care. They live in the leafy burbs and all they can hear are the birds chirping  in their backyards or their horse’s neigh in the stables, not our cry for freedom.

Come on Kenyans! Let’s get off our high horses and start scrubbing. Go on, get your hands dirty.

This is your country: quit acting like you are just visiting.

*Lights out*

Who Will Cry For The Ugly Duckling?

Have you ever read studies/ heard theories on how humans do their selection for mating? Me too.

Did that help you understand why the hot rod of a guy runs off with a woman as ugly as treasure or the video vixen hangs onto Shrek like he was Blair Underwood? Me neither.

So how exactly do human select a suitable mate? We have met people who make our jaws drop and we would catch a grenade for but wait till you see who they settle for. You’ll be forgiven for all insults you hurled in regret as you dust off the grenade debris.

Funny how the only time you rejoice is when your ex hooks up with Ugly duckling so it seems like you’ve won. Funny how we criticize how one will cheat with the ugly duckling when they’ve got a trophy spouse back in the cage.

The other day I went for my usual rugby Saturday hangout. I’m a Quins Queen as usual after the game; everyone heads to the waterhole to quench their thirst. Don’t be fooled though, it’s a meat market out there too. Everyone’s strutting their stuff; chests, breasts, butts, foreheads, fingers in all shapes and sizes. Yes, everything is out there like a garage sale: One man’s trash is another’s treasure.

At this point I must say, the unfortunate thing about bodies is you only get the first impression. You’ll judge and be judged by it. Not like clothes where you can always wear something different and hope to bump into that hot guy/woman looking all sexy second time round. Na, you’ve only got one shot.

Back to rugby Saturday, my wing woman and I stand at the outside bar catching up and taking roll call of who’s with it. A bull approaches the watering hole and asks for a plastic tumbler from the bar at which point I turn subconsciously.

Bull: Do you think this tumbler is clean?

Me: I hope so. I don’t know.

Bull: Is that what how you’ll be talking to our children?

(I blushed. Yes I did. I mean the bull was tall, dark and handsome. He had a body that suggested he’s played rugby in the distant past. He sounded polished and eloquent. )

Me: Huh? (Bull walks away.)

I continue our talk with wingwoman as we watch the bull walk back to his boys. They weren’t an eyeful like he ‘appeared’ to be. We quickly take note that he is unaccompanied and probably, on the prowl.

Few minutes later, he returns to the bar for a few more minutes of chat then heads back to his pack. As he resumes his position in the circle fo boys, a female approaches him. She extends an extra-time hug as if to mark territory.

At this point, my wingwoman and I exchange nods. Yes, she is the woman behind all the fine in the man. The expression on our faces said it all. Our excuses for him ranged from they must’ve been childhood friends to ‘she must be the proverbial cousin visiting from shags’ and eventually we gave up as they put their arms around each other smiling happily. In conclusion, she must have been pretty smart with a beautiful personality. That’s all I’m giving. Beauty lies in the eyes of the beholder.

In reality the ugly duckling is the underdog; we always question why the people we see as handsome, beautiful always end up with the ugly duckling. The ugly duckling is said to be undeserving and not qualified to be with the peacock but don’t they deserve the good things in life too?

Who will cry for the Ugly Duckling?

Mind Your Love Language

This post was long overdue so let me break my silence before I’m consumed by mush.

I’m not a cold person, really but I admit i missed the love train by a couple of stations.

For the longest time, I believed terms of endearment are reserved for the annoying, starry-eyed, slow walking, lip-locking, nauseating couples who litter the streets every 5 meters. They only look good in movies, in my  opinion.

I slowly observed from the sidelines as  these nicknames start spilling all over the variety of platonic and same-sex (girl) relationships. (Does Bromance accept them?)

I’m still frozen at telling my BFFs I love them. I find it hard to call any random party ‘love’ or ‘sugar’, ‘pumpkin (Are you calling me fat?)’, ‘angel’ (Do my shoulder blades look like wings to you?). I can’t even call my beautiful niece ‘cutie pie’ even though deep down I know she is, cute, not a pie. Who cares?

Yes, I was hugged as a child so it has nothing to do with emotional abuse. I accept that as far as emotions are concerned, I am stiff. You’ll have me curling into a corner by referring to me as ‘sugar’, ‘Baby’ especially in public.

I’m those people who will mumble words that sound like ‘I love you’ because saying it in public could make me pee in my pants. Kissing me in public is a sure way of making me faint. I cringe if my arms rub against another’s when seated in a bus. It took me 2 years to start using cutlery at the students’ Mess back in University, I used to carry my own. I choke when I see a text beginning with ‘Hey Love’ from a pal regardless of gender. A tweet addressed to me with the words, ‘Hey cute-stuff’ make me log off for a couple of minutes as I compose myself. Heck, I’m even working up a sweat as I put down these experiences. *Sigh*

Well I’m not completely nuts as far as senses and emotions are concerned. I peck my dad and mum on the cheek in public, even my partner gets a kiss or two (no-tongue in public) but that’s all. So imagine my shock when I had the following conversation with a client:

Client: Hey there! You hardly return my calls.

Me: It’s a crazy February so it slipped my mind.

Client: What is it DEAR?

Me: (As I struggle to regain my footing after I heard ‘DEAR’) Just lots of work. Nothing new.

Client: You know I’m here for you SWEETIE. Just call me at 5 o’clock and we can have coffee to unwind. (Yikes! Is this guy trying to kill me?)

Me: We work long hours, I leave the office at 8 o’clock in the evening.

Client: SWEETHEART, you know you shouldn’t overwork yourself!  (And he had the audacity to sound upset!)

Line goes dead on his end. I hang up on him. It’s nothing personal: just business.

I must’ve slept through a couple of years, when were titles or names replaced by terms of endearment? Sweetie, sweetheart…You’ve never even met me so don’t let my voice fool you.

Hugs make me feel woozy unless if by first impression, I concluded you would smell nice and you have a hot body. Handshakes are even worse; I don’t know where your hands have been. I never know which cheek to peck first so I usually activate ‘dummy’ mode and let the Pecker (not the woodpecker though some would qualify) start pecking lest I end up lip-locking. In related news, do you know the mouth has more bacteria than the sexual organs? And No, I will not go south instead. I rest my case.

I’m doing my best to catch up though. I live with my aunt (story for another day) who loves to hug every time everywhere; in the morning, lunchtime, as we retire to bed. I say I love you to my folks, sisters and my partner clearly on phone or in person within a radius of 30 centimeters of any eavesdropping party.

I address close friends as ‘dearie’ once in every 10 conversations spread throughout the year. I also throw in ‘Take care’ when I have had a couple of sips and feel bold enough. I intend to enroll in a class to learn how to conduct Pillow Talk since I was reliably informed that a sigh, nod or a happy grin doesn’t qualify as pillow talk.

I’m ‘work-in-progress’ so be patient with me while you reduce your servings of endearment referrals, kisses, hugs etc unless you qualify. I hear this is the month of love but there is only so much I can do while it lasts.

P.S.  I don’t get people who ‘high five’ after every sentence too.

Picture this: Random person: “Hey, there goes a Vitz.” (LOL  *cue High 5*) continues, “My pal has a green one” (LOL *cue High 5* ).

Excuse me as I go sanitize and massage my hands. I spot a ‘woodpecker’ approaching.

*Lights out*

Strike 1:Quarter Life Crisis

I suspect I’m in trouble and I’m in denial. Lots of it. According to society,that is.

In my defense, it is quarter life crisis.

Last Christmas eve, I hosted friends for dinner and we voiced all these things we would have achieved by this year’s Christmas eve. Well I can’t remember saying anything other than promising to make more female friends. Before you quiz my reasons, the ratio of male to female at the party was 3:1 and the guys really complained about it.

The year is ending: 32 days left. To be frank, I had NO  list of things to accomplish in 2010. All I wanted was to be ‘Young’: And I have: It’s been a ‘Young Year’ for me. As I sit here, taking account of what of my plans, I have met my goals. And consequences to pay heavily for.

I have successfully avoided any relations or associations that would have me labelled as ‘Mzee ni wewe’  (What does that mean?).

I had 2 close friends get married in the last 2weekends and all I did was seek road trips and drinkups plans to run out of town. In the end, I never turned up for any of the weddings despite numerous calls and texts in which I promised I would show up at the service then reception then evening party then BLANK.

4 of my friends have had babies in the last 2 months. I keep promising to go see their latest additions in vain. I’m always too ‘hangover’ed to go anywhere near screaming kids.

I have my thesis presentation due in few weeks time and I am way behind schedule. I have no time.

My kitchen sink drainage broke down in February,I am yet to fix it.

As  people in my age group are getting married,engaged,delivering babies, I’m either firing up for or nursing a hangover, planning random road trips to avoid weddings, changing friends to younger groups who are not getting married,engaged,delivering babies…

I’m not sure for how long I will running from reality.

My mum keeps calling to complain about how lost I am from home (Consequences of being ‘Young’) and ask if anyone stressing me (Any ONE?). My partner got me into a conversation about wife material and hinted he is dying to have children. I told he him it was the alcohol talking, turned out I was the one on alcohol. My younger friends have started getting babies, rings on their fingers..Will I move to the teen age now? (Dare you say COUGAR!) *Sigh*

According to society, I should be acquiring wife material traits (What’s that anyway?), quit clubbing and looking for highs, wake up on Saturday morning to do general cleaning,(read laundry and house), start wearing pink or light green night dresses to bed instead of perfume, wear wigs, start talking of the biological clock (Huh?) et al.

In my defense, I’m a late bloomer. And I missed that class. Maybe. Sorta. Kinda.

Skinny Jeans: The death of quickies?

I had to wake up very early this morning (6:30am) just to unlock the car for cleaning then rush right back into bed for a few more minutes of sleep. To perform this task, I grabbed a pair of pants that was closest to my bed and which happened to be a pair skinny jeans. It took me 3minutes to wear them, 5minutes to do my task and 10 minutes to remove them. In the end,I wondered whether wearing the skinny jeans was worth me losing sleep.

As I jumped up and down trying to free myself from the shackles of my skinny’s, I  wondered if there were victims of fashion out there who in pursuit of happiness had missed out the pleasures of life? I imagined myself losing  10 minutes to take off my pants in the heat of the moment,talk about shooting yourself in the foot. Is there a man that patient anyway?

I admit skinny jeans are very flattering to the curves and in the way they lift up the bum, right, but to what end?

I believe there are men and women out there who have lost a chance to be happy, pleasured spontaneously because they are in skinny jeans. I included men because they are quickly trying to fit them skinny’s too nowadays.

Skinny jeans are any obstacles stopping you from enjoying your life and its pleasures, anything that is holding you back. A bad habit you need to kick because it either slows down your success path or stalls it all together. Your time management, alcoholic tendencies, failure to save for better days?

‘Skinny jeans’ could kill your ambition, your ability to dream,let alone breathe.

Today try wearing something free that will make your day easier.Pick up your diary and draw up a time plan or to-do list. Take out an investment plan. Set yourself free to fly and explore.

Failure to Launch…

Let’s be honest for a second here.

How many times have you ever started a project, a diet plan, fitness plan, savings plan, mortgage plan and didn’t go far? Any particular reasons why it didn’t happen or work out?

More often than not,we find all the reasons not to hit the road. It is amazing how far and wide we’d research on the cons of a new idea we are on about. To the extent of  inviting  friends over for dinner or drinks so you can hang out this new idea and  publicly stone it to death. We ‘google’ reviews of the car, phone,investment type and I bet you,most of the reviews we will rememeber are the negative bashing ones that make us change our minds.

Ever floated an idea and the first thing you hear is.. ‘No! That’s not a good idea.I have a friend who..’ or ‘I know a guy who..’ and that conversation leaves you filled with doubts tumbling in your head, making and breaking alliances like socks in a dryer without cling free. By the way ever noticed how we never know this nameless  ’Guy’ or ‘friend’ personally?

I have been making several changes throughout 2010 and boy,did I hear LAME reasons and ‘HATERations’ why not to everytime I attempted them. I emphasize lame because they were as lame as a duck. Not the metaphorical lame duck, either, but a real duck that was actually lame. Maybe from stepping on a land mine or something.

One time I was about to cross thousands of miles for love I hadn’t experienced in years and was quite the nervous calf. 2days before I left, I get a text message at 2 am from a close friend and it reads, ‘Don’t go to ‘Utopia’. I had a nightmare that you will get pregnant. And my dreams are never wrong’.. Short of the story, I did travel though I am yet to find out if humans have a different gestation period other than the regular 9months.

So what am I on about?

Many dreams or goals that fail or succeed depend entirely on us. We sabotage our dreams even before anyone out there lays their hands on it.  We claim it’s too cold,too hot to exercise. The market is too unstable to invest. We are too young or too old to do something. What would people think? We don’t have time to do that. So and so said it’s not a good idea and they are the ‘expert’. Watch your words because they become your actions, your habit, your character..

I acknowledge that is not easy to go through with a plan,project without the support of family,friends even haters. You will soon find that they will run with it if they see you stand up for your dream. Do it for yourself, not anyone else.

Believe in YOUR dreams because dreams do come true. Stand up for YOUR dreams. Protect YOUR dreams  like you would something that you love. Remember to be realistic, little by little and you will get there.

Take the path less traveled. Go where there is no path and leave a trail. Have a fighting spirit. Dust yourself and try again when you fall. Remember to laugh it off too. Avoid self sabotage.

After all sooner or later you get to the bridge and there you will either cross it or burn it.

On the count of 2..

‘Don’t get it twisted, love is beautiful thing…’

I’ve met someone who’s made me think about a house together, babies and a forEVER. Even have his name at the end of mine. Our travelling and work related experiences lately have left us on the opposite ends of the globe but not even a day has passed without a long phone call.

In this time, I’ve  got to own my thoughts, think with clarity and without clouded vision.

See I have been a serial dater if you know what I mean. My shortest relationship is my current one at 3 years and yes, I believe it is my last one: I’m marrying the brother. My longest has been 4 years. Flings just aren’t for me. Marriage and kids weren’t on my ‘To Do’ list either.

So how do I know if he is The one? How do I know it’s for EVER? How I know I want to have his babies? Well I just know. That’s all I know.

I am not a guru in relationships but before you go spewing your heart, lungs and all for a guy or girl, here are a few pointers for you from my previous relationships:

1. Be IN love

My previous relationship was good, he was in love and I loved him.*Now read that statement again* ‘..He was in love and I love him’. Yes there is a world apart between being in love and loving someone. I love my Dad, love my mum, love my girlfriends, love my goldfish..Get it?

2.Is it worth fighting for?

I never had even  argument with any of my exes. Good? No, that’s Micheal Jackson ‘BAD’. If you are past your ‘honeymoon’ aka ‘pretense’ phase and never had a huge fight or at least an argument, then you probably aren’t so into each other. I know because I have 2 exes from a 3 1/2 year and a 4 year relationship and we NEVER even raised voices at each other or for each other…Not even in bed.

3. Do you feel it in your heart?

Does it ‘feel’ right in your heart? Urrrm, your heart is on the left side of your chest. Do you feel sudden peace and calm when you think about her/him? Or does s/he easily piss you off for no clear reason? If yes to the latter, start running. Away.

4. Do you actually have conversation or is it just licking each other from head to toe only?

Our generation loves to party and so we end up hooking up at clubs or parties only. Half of this time you are drunk and s/he is looking good. If you ever see each other in the morning, it is already time for the walk of shame.

Ever gone for coffee, lunch, GP karting, hiking, bowling, just the 2 of you. Face each other without all the makeup and coquettish laughter as you eye each other without waiting for high to kick in so you can make out and what else comes next?  That’s where you get to know if you really get along or not.

5. Does telepathy work for you?

I’m talking telepathy, not coincidence! That whole … ‘OMG  s/he just texted,called!! …’ isn’t it. I’m talking real-time connection and consequently  acting upon it despite physical distance. and no, physical arousal doesn’t count here. If you don’t have it, then move along.

6.Trust your instincts

Do you really think it’s going to work out? What are the odds? What’s in it for you? Do you see yourself coming home to him/her? Do you see yourself growing old together?

If you can’t envision this then it isn’t for you.

7.Does it get better with time?

The hardest part of my current relationship was the first 2 years. It was horror. I was battling with Leukemia, I was just out of university without a job, I wasn’t ready to settle down, neither was he. I was really demanding so was he yet we didn’t want to compromise. We didn’t know why we stuck together but we did. We even moved in together during the 1st year yet we were going rough times. But now, we are best of friends. We stuck together, thick or thin. We look back at those dark days and have a good laugh. It gets better with every dawn and dusk. I feel like I have known him all my life. So does yours get better or worse with time?

8. Humor

Do you laugh? At silly things? Do you make fun of each other in a ‘friendly fire’ sort of way? Do you laugh at yourselves? Do you have a long happy sigh, look at each other with a longing smile after a bout of laughter?

9.Do you have good times apart?

Do you go off to your end and have a blast without an urge to spy on him/her? Without getting a panic attack because you are apart? Do you appreciate your time spent apart?  Do you give each other time to reconnect and miss each other? If all you wanna do is hangout together and smoother out your fire then it’s your downfall.

… I am done being selfish. I’m done with appearing all hardcore and without a care.I am done pretending that I am invincible when it comes to love. I am done crucifying any one who is in love or preaches love…

For when the world has dealt its cards, when everyone is done bitching about love,when I lay in my bed every night, he is all I want and who I want to be with. I feel I am ready..

And on the count of 2, I’m choosing love. I am choosing happiness. I am going for it. I am jumping into a future with him.

Battle for the Sexes

A couple of weeks ago, I broke a man’s heart.

I felt so bad; I went home and cried like a child. No, I didn’t break up with him. We were barely friends, let alone lovers. I wept for him, for the missed opportunity he had waited many years to chase in vain. I wept for all the men out there who have been there.

As we had lunch this sunny Saturday in March,in the loudest silence, he was asking me out. He was so excited to finally have lunch and kept hinting at how much he didn’t know how to ask me out. Despite my smiles, I could tell this was NOT a joke judging by how he kept staring me . I could almost see him whip out a ring and drop on his knees anytime.

See, I like Charles as I would any of the boys I have known for close to a decade of which he was trying to set up a lunch/coffee/theatre date with me. He is a gentleman who any woman is lucky to have. Tall, dark and yes, good-looking but I wasn’t attracted to him.

All these years, I feigned ignorance as to whether he liked me. I admit I had a hunch; he did more than just like me. Last time we had a conversation that touched on my love life, I was single. But that was 4 years ago.

On this Saturday, I bumped into him in the bank and end up having lunch.

I let him talk on and on about how he is at a level where he is ready to settle down and I was the only missing part of the jigsaw puzzle. I looked for an opportunity to let him know that I didn’t feel the same way and was seeing someone else. He didn’t give me a chance anyway as he kept throwing compliments my way.

Finally he asked me what I thought and how I felt. He asked me to be honest about it. Be warned, words have a way of failing you at times like this. Suddenly I felt like I was on stage with the spotlight shining on me. I felt dizzy. I knew he wouldn’t be able to think straight once I had done my bit in all honesty.

When I was done, I didn’t miss the reaction. He looked like I had stabbed him in the gut, Samurai Jack style. He pulled himself together in a split second while I let out a sigh of relief.

But I knew he was going to find a love that was his only that it was going to take longer. I also knew I had done the best thing by being honest.

As I write this, I am sorry for the men out there who have been there and feel like they will miss out on love for all the right reasons.

I am sorry for your  missed opportunities. I am sorry that someone else gets to love the girl you want to be with. I am sorry that your next girlfriend/wife will feel like she is second best.

I’m sorry that life is a bitch but I reckon, sometimes you have to miss out on some good so you can land the best.

A Boozer. A Loser.A Poser.

Sundays are my favorite of the week and as such,I have a tradition. Mostly I wake up hangover-ed so it  starts at in the college morning then head for coffee at Java, my fav coffee House.

This Sunday in November of last year was no different.

There was a nationwide power blackout so I ended up going for dinner and coffee at my local mall which has a branch of Java.

As I wait for my order of  medium done steak and chips with a huge mug of double latte, I throw a sweeping glance at the veranda to my left.

See this coffee shop has a wall of glass which allows you to regularly keep updated with the influx of eye candy causing traffic. I only look outside to admire the flowers at the flower shop on the opposite side.

This glance was interrupted by a…………(I am trying to find a polite word)……

…..I give up, LOSER..

‘Are you Esther?’, he quickly asks before I have him standing in a pool of blood judging by the daggers I threw his way.

“No..’I quickly answered as I held my breathe.

(I’ll have you know that I suffer from Olfactophobia. I have a healthy fear of smells. I have such good memory of smells that I’d almost refer to someone by a smell rather than a name. I’m not good with names and faces but give me smells anyday. One sniff and I’ll remember you for the rest of my life.

Scents,aromas and smells always remind of a time capsule which I will probably want to reminisce about or not. For this reason, one look at you and I’ll anticipate how you smell.As I rule, I will hold my breath approximately 10 seconds before and after I pass a stranger on a street. Of course this duration varies depending on my judgement as you approach.)

So this guy doesn’t give me lead time to hold my breath and judging by the grey fleece he was wearing that had dark patches around the front buttons, a warning would have been highly appreciated. He worn sandals too.His feet look like they’d keep a team of specialists in business..the list is long.

He goes on to tell me that I resemble a certain ‘Esther’ he works with at the county’s biggest Mobile phone service provider, Safaricom. He is in Network design. An Engineer.

He quickly sits. He just as quickly starts to smell. He reeks of alcohol. Red seems to be his choice of color for his eyes this Sunday. He fidgets. He is mumbling something to do with a soccer game he had just watched in town. He remembers to mention how his bill was Ksh. 6,000 in 90 minutes.

He phone rings.His pals on the other end calling to thank him for the air tickets he bought them to the Coast. He was too busy to join them as he is working. He implies that he has money.He lives down the road and had come to return movies at the rental next to Java.

I pray that my dinner gets delayed because then I’d have to expose my food to his smell which means my stomach will eventually smell like him too. The Oracle is against me, my dinner is here.

He is asked for his order which he whispers, ‘Samosa. Pekee yake’. To be honest and judge me if you must, for a man of his imaginary stature I expected him to buy the joint…Ok,maybe he wasn’t hungry so I’ll cut him some slack.

Bite after bite,I apologize to my insides and tried explaining myself. In my defence, I only opened my mouth for the required width.

He quickly gobbles up the samosas and much as I was happy because his stay would be shortened,he exposes me to whole new array of smells. I choke and swallow. My memory has just received new RSS feed for immediate archiving..Plus he just won’t quit talking.

I was waiting for my best friend who seemed to take a lifetime to show up when I desperately need a lifeline.

Jamo,his name is, asks me out for a DINNER in Kikuyu. If you know the geography of Nairobi, Kikuyu (TOWN) is not anywhere between Yaya and Chaka Road so why in hell would I want to go to Kikuyu for dinner? He asks for my number.I give him my zain line which happened was  on a handset which can block calls and texts as well. I didn’t care,I had had the line for a week now and a new reason to dispose it.

My best friend shows up and give me a disapproving look after which we engage in a hearty conversation completely ignoring Jamo.

Our bills come, combined. And placed on my side.

Oh,why in hell would I want anything of mine touching his?Not even my bill,his salad of gagging smells is already entwined with my dinner.In my stomach..Yes ,I’m cold like that.

I kindly ask for a separate bill and to which Jamo pays his end and BEGS to leave. Yes, I look like I’d roll out and die if he leaves.In his eyes that is. A promise of Dinner in Kikuyu is mumbled and he is off.

Oh wait,he forgot to carry the coffee-house home with him.After all he has money,right..Anyway maybe he is isn’t that generous today. Sigh.

The rest of the evening goes uneventful save for the bouts of laughter as I explain the Jamo situation.

I eventually forgot about him and days turned into months.

Last Saturday, I walk into Yaya..

The floor is wet. Cleaning in progress.

And the cleanliness award goes to..(Drumroll please..)

The cleaner is Jamo in a Cleaners Uniform.Moppping.

He was shocked to see me.  This time I had adequate lead time for smell combat.30second for the cleaner, and an extra minute for Jamo before and after passing him. He had scarred me before.In more ways than smell-wise.

Maybe he was fired from Safaricom.Maybe he likes to clean as a hobby. Maybe he has a twin…Maybe..Just maybe..