Had another of those recurring dreams bombarding my brain already overloaded with unpacking home removal boxes. Pity we don’t possess a computer’s “delete all” to clear the deck.
The scene opens in the boardroom of a company called Action Nuclear Corp (ANCorp, but not to be confused with the acronym of the notorious governing one). Funny enough, this ANC won the tender from the bad one to research alternate power sources.
Shareholders, of whom I’m one, have been summoned by the auditors for an important announcement.
Before the meeting is formally opened, tea is served together with a box reading “Come fly with Dudu’s mouth-watering cream cupcakes”. Ms Myeni’s new venture?
The firm’s secretary, a pretty blonde lady with sprouting ruby lips encircling a set of sparkling white teeth, has her laptop open, ready to record the minutes. The machine’s logo, the word Sahara in bright blue, catches my eye. Thankfully that company has since been closed and abandoned.
The secretary totally misreads my stare, blushingly giving me a nubile-like smile.
The spokesperson for the auditors interrupts our misinterpreted eyeballing, manhandling a folder needing a forklift truck to shift, just for theatre of course, as his pronouncement is short but not so sweet
While speaking, he casts a beady eye around the table until it rests where ANCorp directors are seated. “After a thorough investigation”, he intones, “we found certain directors have benefitted from the research tender to the tune of three million rand each. These amounts were part of the total cost charged to the government. One of the shareholders here blew the whistle, forcing us to do the audit. The Hawks are on their way to make the arrests and Judge Raymond Zondo is eyeing the company chairperson. We suggest the errant directors stand down (unlike ANC politicians) and get good lawyers”.
The meeting erupts with shouts and verbal abuse from the shareholders, one aiming the rest of Dudu’s cupcakes at the hapless accused, leaving them with dripping cream on their faces. Undoubtedly one useful entity created by the bagged lady, albeit messy missiles.
During all this time the secretary keeps typing, evidently recording the saga verbatim. If clever, she’ll leak the document to the media.
With that my Heidi shakes me awake and wants to know, “Who were you calling cupcake?” I turn, feigning loud snores.