If you’re a pusillanimous person in today’s society, may God be with you when it comes to getting good service.
My friend Marlene Wilson told me about receiving some bad service, which was more akin to “non-service” at a car dealer a while back. After countless calls and complaints, she could take it no more. She visited the establishment, jumped onto the front counter and started to bawl out the most blasphemous proclamations. Miraculously, the owner of the company arrived; and Marlene drove away with a brand new vehicle. But woe is me, on the other hand.
I have called more than 30 times at a similar establishment and kindly requested service. I had to go in person, but unlike Marlene, I simply stated my grievance in a much softer tone. To this day, reader, my issue has not been addressed. It seems you must give a good dressing down these days in order to get some attention.
Take, for example, Sir Lester. What the bird went on? No, he wasn’t wearing a dress, but what happened to the pants? His suspenders apparently were similar to Marlene’s suspension. For a very brief moment, Lester Bird’s pants fell, while walking to receive Antigua’s highest honour . . . it was surely not a Freudian slip; but it could have been Hanes boxers. The drop lasted fewer than five seconds, but Kodak has captured it forever.
No big deal, though. We’ve all had embarrassing moments, right? From the classic but unclassy toilet paper stuck onto one’s shoe, to the jumping into a strange man’s car, we’ve surely done it all. Well, maybe not the latter.
Rossann Yearwood is perhaps the only person who’s done that. Coming out of Cave Shepherd, she jumps into a red Almera. Driver stares at her blankly, but begins to drive. Rossann jumps out of car onto Broad Street, convinced she was being kidnapped. (Remember, Rossann was the one who jumped into the wrong car; she was neither grabbed nor forced.) She sticks to the kidnap theory, to this day.
And then we have things stuck in our teeth. I remember doing a karaoke session with some colleagues. We were celebrating the company’s anniversary. Wine was flowing and faces were glowing. The boss was refilling our glasses as quickly as we sipped. A cameraman was lurking, trying to get some promotional videos. I wanted to impress. Pusillanimousness out the window, I’d sing to the camera.
I asked for the footage and proudly gave my email address. Days passed, and I thought I’d check to see if the video was out. Thankfully, I am no big bird, just a small fish. The video was not used, due to the large fragments of fishcake stuck between my fangs. Had I not been having fermentations, I would not have been so facetious. Coke has never assisted nor accelerated my embarrassment. The IMF should propose a heavier tax on harder drinks instead of a new one on soft. I’m sure Richard Cozier would drink to that.
Veoma Ali is an author, actor, broadcaster, advertising exec, and most important, a karaoke lover.