We're Sorry To Inform You

I’m struggling to be lighthearted. Though I said I would.
But not today.
Not with this 10 ton truck racing down.
All life could change by next week.
Or I could be stuck in a courage-less rut.
The retrenchments are real.
But not for me.
I’m a-o-k-a-y. Owned by a foreign government for at least one more year.
The pay cuts and four-day work weeks are taking people out by the email.
There’s a Free State woman on the phone to me, screaming at me that I have to have to give her a job.
Eish. Sorry.
I just gave the last ninegrandpermonth job to a teacher. Well. Now. Ex-teacher.
Fkc. I feel bad about that.
But you’ll “Human Capacitate” him Champs, moenie stress nie.
The law firms are getting seven applications by the day. Nationality is immaterial.
His job & loyalty & future are on the line. And they are talking “Historically Disadvantaged”, B.E.E. & government quotas.
But the payout means overseas plane tickets. Get the hell outta.
To where?
Am I going with?
A lady is rejected from the social grant collection queue cause of her “COPE” shirt.
And I just paid someone’s monthly salary for a coupla new clothes items that I’ll look snazzy in.
Their HR is scrambling. Printing behind closed doors. Leaving sealed envelopes on desks.
And me.
Well. If the sealed envelope comes. Or the choice is made earlier. By someone else.
I could love or lose.