Freedom

Her boss had announced impending job appraisals. Finally the supervisor from hell would get even. Ever since Themba had popped the question and put a large diamond on Thoko's left hand, the witch from the corner office had been meaner. Themba and the witch had been an item, for a brief forgettable moment in university. It was one lousy movie date in which the popcorn carton had made a bigger impression on Themba. Five years later, he met and was enamoured by Thoko. Little did he know that his sort-of-ex and his future wife were workmates. It was only when Themba kissed her goodbye, one morning, outside the office, that the old flame found out. Since then, Satin's sister has had it in for Thoko.
 
The worst tasks were all assigned to Thoko, the difficult clients all given to Thoko, the sudden jobs that came at quarter-to-knock-off-time were handed to Thoko, all with a satisfied smirk that said "tonight you won't be rushing home early to Themba's loving arms!"

When the announcement of the looming job review came, Thoko also received a phone call; Themba's mother, the soon-to-be mamazala. A woman knows when another female doesn't like her. Thoko was not the mamazala's favourite person, but they tolerated each other during the times when she came to stay over, usually because of some Methodist Church function in the capital. Mamazala was coming over for the weekend.

Thoko just wanted to be by herself before her mother-in-law-'s looming intrusion. She needed to take the afternoon off.

When Thoko entered the boss'office, she was reading through papers with her head bowed. She held a golden Parker pen in one hand. Thoko stood silently, waiting for the wicked witch to notice her. It was a minute before she glanced up momentarily before returning to the papers on her desk.

"I have to take my secretarial diploma exam," Thoko said, with a straight face.

The witch from the corner office looked up at Thoko, over her rectangular spectacle frames.

"I suppose a diploma would be an upgrade from a little certificate."
The contempt in her voice was ill-concealed. She waved her golden Parker pen like some magic wand. "Very well, approved."


Thoko parked her Nissan Micra near the beach, got out and walked down to the sand. This was no place for imprisonment or formality, no mamazala, no witch from the corner office. She bent her knee to raise her heel, lowered her hand and unstrapped her shoe, to liberate her toes from the prison of her wedged pumps. With shoes held in one hand, she stepped forward. The warm, wet sand squished, almost like mud, between her pedicured toes.

For the next hour, she was glad to be free.

My pen is capped

Jerà