Please note that this is not another bitter Saffa writing acid spewing letters from their musty, sunless apartment.

And so the story goes: you can't expect smooth sailing all the way to America. I was working on my fitness at the gym last night, while another gym member was working her way through my padlocked locker. I arrived back at it all sweaty and ready to go home only to discover my handbag in another locker, minus my awesome pink Pantone wallet and my cellphone. Long story short, I was left with loads of inconvenience and the stupid thief with R50, because all my possessions were stopped/blocked/blacklisted before she could say Thieving Fat Bitch.
RIP Pantone Wallet
Petty crime is boring. Lets rather talk about the good South African people who made things much better for my silly self.

Liezel and the Virgin Active Old Eds staff
These kind folk ushered me into an office, ready with all the numbers required for the (un)necessary admin. She even remembered my ID number when I couldn't. Myself and the other unfortunate robbed lady where supplied with ice cold Energade for the shock and anything else we could need. They were fast and helpful and calm and not shaking, unlike me.

The various call center people
Wow, these people must have the worst job in the world next to toll gate operators and sewerage farmers. Each one was patient, friendly, helpful and got the job done. Even the oke at the Absa bank. I am more than halfway back to a full wallet of cards.

Percy the petrol attendant
Feeling very sorry for myself I managed to scrape together R80 to get some fuel into my car this morning (no Garage Card, remember). After checking my tires etc, dear Percy asked me what is wrong this morning. I proceeded to tell him my sad and soppy story to which he replied "ah, shame ma'am it is not that bad, it could be worse, it will be okay". True. True. So I wiped my tears and put my big girl panties on.


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