Can I check your car?

Quite a long rant...

Well car-guards are a part of every South African’s daily life. However the ones that work at the centre where our shop is are unlike any other I have ever come across. They are called the Rooi Koppies for the simple reason that the hats that are part of their uniform are the colour of those bright orange road cone jobs. But rooi koppies just sounds better than oranje Koppies and this is what we named them so… The rest of the uniform includes grey schoolboy pants and a white school shirt with a tie (the colour escapes me at this point). The uniform is the same for both males and females so one can imagine how wonderful the women look in this ensemble (doll). They get paid a monthly salary and rotate between various centres.
They have that lovely colour that says they have been boozing and standing in the sun too long. Their skin looks tough and leathery and most of the time they have ciggy hanging from their mouths. Some of them are older and look like they have had a rough ride of things; these are not the ones I wish to write about.

Suicidal over-sharer.
Now this girl couldn’t have been much over 25. Her hair was long, dark brown and incredibly curly. She had false nails on, that were always perfectly manicured (French of course). She wore bright blue eye shadow, thick black eyeliner and lots of mascara. Her lips were always a deep shade of red. Every so often she would come in and “test” the perfumes we had. One day she came into the shop only to display a huge and revolting wound on her leg. She said she had been hit by a car. Now this didn’t surprise me too much as I had often had to practice much self control in not ramming her with my car! Now I am not one to deal with much grossness and so I collapsed to the floor from being incredibly dizzy! My sister told her she would have to go to the doctor immediately as she was not equipped to deal with this. Now you need to realize it is bad when my sister says that, because she is ready to deal and fully capable to deal with most things.
One day I arrived at work, got out my car and saw her sprinting toward me, on injured leg. Damn that chick could move. She then reached me and launched into an incredibly intense tale of woe. Now I do have compassion but I am not one who believes that a person should talk of their problems to anyone that has a set of ears. She told me how she had tried to kill herself the night before and how tough things are for her. Now being in the pharmaceutical industry I have a pretty good knowledge of what can kill you, pill wise, and what she took wouldn’t ease a headache of mine. I told her that she should go see someone who has the proper knowledge to help her as I cannot offer her the proper help that she needed. She then told me she didn’t need help, she was fine and it was all to make her boyfriend worry and make him stay with her. At this point hitting her with my car sounded ever so appealing and if it had been closer I would have done it. Those that know me will know exactly why this act of hers sent me into a blind rage. As I shared my story with the rest of the people at work, it seems she had told them completely different stories of woe. She came into the shop a little later and asked to speak to me privately. It was then that she attempted to HUG me!!!!!! Still being in a rage from earlier (I had been slamming around the shop etc) I snapped at her not to touch me and walked away. This may sound exceptionally cold as she clearly needed help but as I said earlier those who know me well will understand where I coming from on this. She has been transferred to another parking lot.

The She-male
One day I was standing outside with my sissy and I looked at one of the car guards and said to my sissy that that boy couldn’t be older than 14 years. She told me that she thinks it’s a woman. Even after he-she has said a couple of words to me I still do not know what gender this person is.

Chatter-box.
There is another young car guard who likes to chat. Luckily it is Smalltalk. The one day, I was dashing in and out of the shop to get something urgent for my moms. He found it necessary to comment on the weather, busyness of the centre and George Bush. As I was walking and talking, I was after all on an urgent errand, I walked into the pharmacy before he could ask me if I preferred ER or Grays Anatomy. Leaving 5 minutes later, he rushed up to me in a panic and asked if I was sick. I told him I was getting something for my mom. He sighed with relief and thanked god I wasn’t ill. I wanted to ask him what my mother had ever done to him.

Now, generally I don’t mind car guards all too much but when I'm driving forward out of a parking, I really don’t need to be directed (happens at my centre). And perhaps they should tell you are driving down a one way in the wrong direction everyday for a few weeks. And mostly I am capable of reversing on my own. But I am quite happy to give the guys 5 bucks if it’s late at night or 10 if it’s really cold. Clearly I have a personal space iSSue (for u Durban) and the guys (and gals) at my centre get in it. It is not nice to walk into the bathroom and find the one female washing her hair in the basin and having a general “bath” What is equally annoying is they ask “can I check your car?” Check my car for what exactly? A puncture maybe?

Remain Infinitely Cute
XXX