Wallet message to middle class wanna-be young man: Enough is enough, you have to treat me with more respect!

My boss is a carefree young man who just celebrated his 23rd birthday for the fourth time this year. This year’s birthday happened last month, precisely one day after payday. My boss acquired me for 2500 shillings awhile back because I have gone to a group of leather schools, not the usual back road Kariokor stuff. Lanes, people, lanes.

Now, the first 5 days of the month are great for me. I get stuffed with all sorts of crisp, clean and great smelling 1000 faced darlings . Then they start disappearing as fast as they come. By the mid of the month, I get to host a few couple hundred dirty, stinking 50 faced notes. The last week of the month, I do not see any notes at all, just some hard 20 bob mabatis and such hard ghetto musings. It’s a shame .

Anyway, the birthday, yes.

So this fine day happens to be a Friday (how perfect ) and the ATM machine is in perfect cooperation to my boss’ request. I’m actually surprised after a cool 30 whole-faced crisp clean brown darlings get stuffed in me. I have never felt this rich. I do not want to question whether my boss has received a raise at work or finally won a bet on SportsPesa, I gotta enjoy the moment while it lasts.

Panic signs 

The day progresses well and the first signs of panic come during lunch time, when my boss spends a whole 600 shillings on lunch. All by himself. What did he eat, a whale? I wonder. He pulls out a beautiful brown darling and stuffs some dirty couple 200 things back in. Then as he heads back to work, he suddenly realizes that he needed breathe mint, so off we head to the supermarket and he buys mint worth 120 and uses another brown darling to pay for that! How original . Luckily, the Mabati musings received as change go into his pocket, and not in me. Phew.

By evening, my boss has made numerous calls and chats to his 1001 ex-girlfriends, all who, luckily, cannot make to meet him tonight. What a relief. Just as I’m about to relax, I hear the worst news. He is on phone speaking to his wing man, Jaymo.

“Boss, unakumbuka that tall brown Mercedes nilikushow?”

“Yeah?”

“She has agreed to meet me in about two hours, bruh! Where you at?”

Btw, my boss and his compadre wanna-be classify girls according to cars. Prius is the worst, naturally !

As usual, Jaymo is down for that. Jaymo is always down for whatever. Fyi, Jaymo is not short form for James. His real name is Jamandara Mogaka Mwomeria. (His mother didn’t have enough time to ‘Google’ a Spanish name).

Fast forward to later that evening 

And two brown Mercedes’ came along

The first brown Mercedes goes by the name Subira and she has tagged along another equally brown Mercedes as her wing-man (woman?) as well, going by the name…wait for it, Anna Belle. Bitch, please … Subira is this lady my boss found on Facebook and has been trying to ‘date’ for the longest possible time- about 2 straight days.

Anyway, tonight Jaymo is a little down financially. His check hasn’t cleared apparently. As a side note, his check never seems to clear. Maybe they are all waiting for vision 2030 to pass and clear at once.

But my boss’ gat this, you know?

So he asks the ladies what they are taking, and the way they say ‘Hennessey’ you’d think they are promoting a sex commercial. I flinch. That will take quite a considerable number of brown darlings from me. To make matters worse, my boss has suddenly realized that he is a beer guy. Makali is giving him stomach-aches or ulcers or something like that these days. Better safe than sorry, right folks?

So he orders beer, and what else but Heineken to match his new rich status? Additionally, it’s always a good idea to ensure that your beer has companions (These things get lonely), so he orders mbili-mbili. Jaymo, in his extraordinary modesty orders a whitecap. He does not want to get drunk as he will be heading to Masai mara the next day to participate in his company’s team building. Like lions care whether he is drunk! My boss share my sentiments as well and hence Jaymo changes his drink to sweet oil (Read: Guinness).

Chop de moni time .

So Hennessy comes , ice bucket 4 Heinekens as kickstarters ,  two bottles of sweet oil for Jaymo , Shisha , dirty crumpled notes as change ,  and Waitress tip because my boss is such a gentleman.  The party kicks off.

Subira havitu heri anymore, avuta shisha

Apparently, Subira havuti heri anymore, she has upgraded to shisha and boy, that lady can smoke! Her friend keeps up very comfortably and you would be forgiven to think that the booth has become a testing zone for the old-generation diesel trains. As the night progresses, things seem to be going quite well for my boss. Subira is quite the conversationalist, albeit taking about 60% of the time taking selfies and posting them to social media. Isorait, the club boom-boom doesn’t encourage conversations anyway. At some point, between the second bottle, about the 20th bottoms-up shots of Rose liqueur and endless shisha, the ladies realize that the last time they ate anything was last Sunday, when they ate sacrament in church. More 1000 faced darlings gone.

As they danced the night away, the brown sweet darlings in me also danced out at an incredible rate. By now, my depression has kicked in, but look on the bright side, my boss may get lucky tonight and maybe his hand and Vaseline will have a good night’s rest for once.

Taking the Queen bees home

Its almost morning and things seem to be going okay for this ninja. Even Jaymo has finally managed to get queen bee number two talking.  She gets busy explaining to him about the different kinds of wigs.

Side Note: Apparently, even donkey hair can make wigs! Lol, I would love to ask a lady “Are you wearing ass on your head?’

In midst of all that, my boss pops the big question and the slay queen agrees after a serious 2 seconds deliberation. She usually doesn’t do that on the first date but my boss seems like a good guy, she likes him, blah blah blah.

The taxi to my boss’ dingy bedsitter in Zimmerman gets rid of the last remaining brown darlings in me. I frown as a dirty, crumpled, old 100 shilling paper-thing gets stuffed in me as change. The taxi drops Jaymo off at his place first- it’s a pity he couldn’t get queen bee number 2 interested enough.

One more for the …bed?

Back at the house, the ladies insist on finishing the dregs of Hennessy they carried along with them. My boss joins them, the gentleman he is. So Anna is to sleep on the two-seater couch (lol- a cat can’t fit there ) and Subira will share the bed with my boss. Great arrangement.

Next day, my boss wakes up around 3 in the afternoon.

Oh, to answer your question, nothing happened. Apparently, it was that ‘time of the month’ and my boss was too drunk to have the energy or enthusiasm to confirm the form 34Bs. And the other possible party was a crumpled mess on the two-seater. Somehow, she found a way to fit on that seat and snore the morning away.

Hawa Waluhya wa Kayole !

He wakes up and wonders why his phone hasn’t rung yet. Then in a moment, he realizes why.

His phone is not there, neither is Subira and her socialite girlfriend. Neither is the 43” bravia, or the cooker, or the Company laptop, his slim-fit suits, the overpriced carpet he bought at garden city mall the other day, the shoes he bought online at a ridiculous price, the watch his aunt sent him from Germany last year and other riff raff.

The two decent ladies even took the dirty 100 shillings I had. Who does that?

Then my boss starts laughing and he keeps at it for one whole minute. In a moment, I see why he is laughing. Before the ladies robbed him, the ladies had enough time to actually cook and eat ugali-mayai .

Hehe, hawa waluhya wa kayole  

I laugh along as well, despite the pain I feel inside, knowing that rough days lay ahead. Until the next 23rd birthday next month, I might see a lot of the mabati things that I have come to hate.

 

Peace.

 

One thought on “Wallet message to middle class wanna-be young man: Enough is enough, you have to treat me with more respect!

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