Flakes from a CV-Part 2

Flo was a pleasant lady, and when they called, many of our clients always asked to speak to her, even when it was Joe himself that first picked the call. I found that odd. I also discovered that it was Flo that appeared to understand and to deal with many aspects of the business. Much later, I came to learn that she had worked for the company for a good 15 years. And that Joe and Sonia had bought the business, from another husband-wife coalition. Flo had worked for that previous couple since the inception of the company. With that knowledge, many things seemed to fall into place. Though we never put it on our proposal documents, Flo had a  5% shareholding of the company.

But on my first day at work, Flo reported to the office an hour or so late. Something seemed very wrong with her. Something. The three of them proceeded to speak in hushed tones, not in a manner suggesting that others should not hear, but in that way that indicates the matter at hand to be very grave. I felt awkwardly at a loss of what to do or say. I was yet to be formally introduced to Flo, and so, there was no way I was going to intrude into what they were talking about. In no particular order, my guesses were; 1.The lady had been robbed the night before 2. Someone close to her had been diagnosed with a terminal illness 3. Someone had died.

Nothing in my entire life would have prepared me well enough to understand the reason Flo was downcast. Later that day, I came to learn that one of her two dogs had fallen ill the night before. So much so, that the vet had recommended it be admitted at his clinic. To facilitate closer monitoring.

I took in this piece of news with much bewilderment. In the part of the world where I came from, such things did not happen. I found myself pondering the scenario where a pet becomes so important that it warrants such an extent of pampering.

The closest I managed to relate to Flo’s situation with her sick dog, was my mother’s adoring care of farm animals. Years ago, after trailing my civil servant father from town to town in different odd locations throughout Kenya, my mother eventually grew tired of living a nomadic life. She talked her husband into buying land whereupon she henceforth lived, doing what she loves most. Farming.

A couple of times, I watched horrified, as my mother helped to deliver young ones of cows. It was never a pretty sight! On another occasion, I witnessed, as she mercilessly pushed a sharp knife through the hide of a cow. I kid you not, that is a first-aid cure for an extreme form of bloating that is prevalent in cows. It works. The resulting wound will ofcourse need to be carefully nursed. Watching my mother at work with animals, I always imagined that had she pursed her education further, she may have made a very good vet. She has a special kindness to animals, that goes further to include cats and dogs. Never as pets though, because within a farm setup, cats and dogs have specific designated roles. They are part of an eco-system. For Flo, I would have to compromise my stand.

The animal-loving gene was not passed through to me. Animals I like, when they are a safe distance away from me. Pet or otherwise.

Though a pleasant lady, after a while, I found Flo’s daily routine nauseating. Without fail, she carried a pre-packed lunch of baby tomatoes, a few lettuce leaves, 2 slices of brown bread and a fruit. Each day around mid-day, she cleared her desk of all paper work in preparation for lunch. First she would arrange the two slices of brown bread on a plate, carpet one slice with lettuce leaves, then slice the baby tomatoes into halves, which she then neatly arranged onto the lettuce- carpeted slice, and finally, she would cover the mass with the second slice to make a sandwich. This without much deviation.  When I reflected on her 15 years at the same company, same role, I concluded that Flo was peculiar.

To be continued…