It’s Final… I Was Fired

WHY do you like arguing? You were not there so just get it from me and believe it. I was fired from the International Institution and this time there is no reprieve, I am out! It’s final.

I got the instant boot, my letter of termination of services, duly signed by (you-guessed-right) the one man who has spent all his contract years at the International Institution looking for an opportunity to have his own back, Mr Paul Mabesere, Acting Chief Executive Officer (CEO), on the 30th of June 2014.

This fellow, I tell you, is not in good books with anyone at the work place. He is the second-in-command to our most affable CEO JJ Chilalamumpoto but as for me his hatred has been so deep-seated because at one of our office get-togethers, in drunken stupour, I walked away with the partner he had brought.

I truly would never wittingly do such a thing to anyone, let alone my superior at the work place. It was the booze at work in me, too much of it, that is. I sneaked that woman away for my own nocturnal pleasures, without realising what I was doing. And come to think of it, though Mr Mabesere still keeps that grudge, to the point where he has now finally had his way and dismissed me, I did not even have the thrills I had anticipated with that “hipsy, bumsy” Congolese lady called Dominique Njege.

Look, don’t ask too many questions because that is not the issue here.

You can argue that she suffered cardiac arrest because, as Mr Mabesere teased when the story first came out, I had done such an expert sex job on her she could not contain it.

That’s neither here nor there because I never was able to remember whether we did anything unthinkable when we got to the lodge or, as is usually the case, I maybe fell into the bed with all clothes (shoes inclusive) intact on my body, beauty beside me waiting anxiously for the agreed services, and started producing froglike snores.

JJ Chilalamumpoto had taken his annual leave and those 30 days were sufficient for his deputy and, therefore, Acting CEO to nail me.

How perfectly does it get than what our neighbours in Zim are known to have termed “Zidaure wekha mkomana” (some form of “Hammer yourself”) in which case if they thought you deserved to be knifed, it was a show of mercy when they gave you the knife and requested you, albeit without the option of refusal, to knife yourself, thus allowing you the prerogative of determining which part of your body you thought was best to land the knife.

It’s agony, I tell you, for someone to ask you to inflict physical damage on yourself in this manner also considering that in many cases, whether you did “daura” yourself or not, you would still get physically mauled.

Mr Mabesere knew very well that by giving me the invitation card to attend the National Day of one of Zambia’s sister countries, that is

representing the International Institution, I would most likely go to the Ambassador’s residence, find a lot of serious-minded representatives of other institutions, including a Government minister and, most naturally, a lot to drink as well.

Mr Mabesere knew I would land plenty of alcoholic beverages and that I would drink. He knew that I would not just drink I would drink heavily, that in the end, I would go on and do wrong deeds.

He knew that, the twit, the bastard! So don’t stop me from calling him names because under no normal circumstances would a reasonable well-meaning Chief Executive Officer assign an obvious imbecile in the system to go and represent a high-profile institution like ours.

In all fairness, even to myself, everybody knew me to be an imbecile in waiting whenever alcohol was about to be served. I even wonder why I insist on calling him “Mr” the dimwit, the nincompoop, the … the… only an idiot, a buffoon a… a… goat can do such a thing. He deliberately destroyed me.

Nobody at the Institution, not even the incumbent CEO when he returned to duty and discovered what had become of me, sided with Paul the wizard, the beast, the blood-sucking vampire Mabesere. They said it was wrong. But, sadly our system is rather weird. It gives the power to the CEO, including one who is merely acting for at least 30 days, to take drastic disciplinary actions against erring workers, so long heshe can prove using the Institutional Code of Conduct, that an offence was committed.

Beast Mabesere is sharp so he knew how to manipulate my permanent exit. True, I did drink like a fly at the Ambassador’s residence. I got thoroughly sloshed and with no one to control me, I did my thing, as usual and as you would expect. This was a cocktail party and there was NO music or dancing on the programme except for the two countries’ national anthems and speeches. There was no official opening of the dance floor but you see, I was drunk, as usual, and I wanted to dance.

They say I harassed the Ambassador’s wife, insisting that we open the dance floor. When I was obviously not succeeding, and while they laughed it off thinking I was a practical joker attempting to add flavour to the festivities, they got the true picture of my mental state when I attempted to drag the female Aide de Camp to the Inspector General of Police (You know that police woman who always hangs behind the IG?).

Before people fully realised there was a public nuisance in the house who was doing what he was doing because he had over indulged himself in swallowing a whole assortment of brews, I had gone on to lay my fingers on the female deputy minister representing the Government of the Republic of Zambia, singing popular musician B1’s “Ndife Chabe Vipuba” at the top of my voice. They roughed me up, dragged me out of that cocktail party and hell no, straight to police cells.

They checked my identity card, which gave me away, and they contacted the office to protest in the gest terms about my misconduct at that National Day commemoration for a friendly country.

It was easier getting out of police cells as I was charged with the usual K22.50n charge reserved for my type of unruly conduct: Conduct likely to cause a breach of the peace.

But at the work place, the charge was that of gross misconduct which had brought the Institution into grave disrepute. The report that was filed to Headquarters in Paris detailed all my actions while the official letter of complaint from the relevant departments was attached. I couldn’t escape. They fired me. It’s final, sir. It’s final madam. I am out of employment.

But why do you stand there agape, looking surprised or worried or whatever as if you don’t know me and my reputation with regard to getting jobs and losing them? It’s actually an 8th wonder of the world that I have spent close to if not more than 15 years at the Institution.

They usually fire me within the period of observation best known in employment circles as “probation” or just when it is over. You can’t drink and misbehave the way I do and hope to always get away with it.

Fine, it’s unfair in the sense that I am a perfect performer at the job and that usually I misbehave away from the work place but well… I got trapped misconducting myself seriously while representing the Institution.

I did confront idiotic Mabesere. I went into his office sober as a Pentecostal Bishop and gave him the full piece of my mind. I told him I knew why he did what he did, that I knew afterwards he had set me up, because he was still grieved over the dead Congolese woman I stole from him.

But I also told him he was also an imbecile like me, that I would actually write hq in Paris so they can investigate why in the first place Mabesere sent ME and not any other even more senior persons, especially ones from the Public Affairs Section who were more familiar with etiquette to stand in for the CEO.

I told him hq would have to find out what my reputation had always been and whether there was any chance Mabesere, as the long-serving deputy CEO, did not have prior knowledge I would misbehave if sent on such errand. If they find out he sent me deliberately, shouldn’t he himself also be charged with and get tossed out for gross misconduct leading to the embarrassment of the Institution? He is in a dilemma and I can assure you he could be following me out sooner than he thought and be heading back to his native Zimbabwe!

As for the last three months when I have had so much time on my hands not having to rush to the office before 8, you must wait. It’s not your story so don’t be in too much of a hurry. I will tell you when I can. At least now you know why you haven’t heard from me for a while. I am confused my friend. Life must start all over again.

Source : The Times of Zambia

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