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JAYNE WITH A WHY |
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Saturday, November 29, 2008BECAUSE THEY CAN - END OF STORYMore swearing follows................. Hubs received a phone call, which went like this:- "Hello, can I please speak to Mr Michael?" "Speaking" "Where are you?" "What do you mean, where am I?" "Er, I need to know where you are please sir" "I'm on al Reem island.........in my office! Why do you ask?" "I'm SoandSo from Mashreq bank" "And?" "I've recieved a letter from your ex-employer, which states that you have left the company" "That's correct" "Your ex employer has suggested that you intend to leave the UAE, so I have to freeze your accounts & credit cards. That's why I needed to know where you were." Y'know, the sour bastards - i.e. the fucking-slimy-Leb-ex-employers - just couldn't resist having one last dig. Where did it get them? Nofuckingwhere! Hubs explained to the person calling from the bank that he had joined another company & if they'd care to check, they would see that a recent deposit by his new employer had been made. (Quick glance at the account & yep, the deposit was confirmed). Hubs explained that he was awaiting confirmation of his new visa, but apart from that, his banking would remain 'as per normal'. The bank has asked him to fax through a copy of his visa, as soon as he gets it & told him there certainly wouldn't be a need to freeze his account or credit cards. So that's that - finish, klaar, ghalas. Hubs' new visa has been issued.......in this emirate. Funny that, considering the pox-riddled cretin the ex-employer refuses to fire, told him 3 & a half years ago it would be impossible. Imposible my arse - he just went out of his way to make life as fucking difficult as possible, because he fucking well could. So, my closing gesture to the company & specific employees who tried their best to make as much trouble as possible, just because Hubs had the audacity to resign, is the picture below.  The words 'swivel' & 'rotate' are applicable to the above graphic.  
Tuesday, November 25, 2008BECAUSE THEY CAN..........................This may be a long post...............................it may also contain much swearing. I'm pretty pissed off & have been for a couple of weeks now. I know that by venting my anger & depressed frame of mind won't get me anywhere & probably, the only thing it'll achieve is to 'get it off my chest'. Some of us need to do that once in a while, so fuck it, I'm jumping the queue for a bitch-post special. On the 8th of September, Hubs tendered his resignation from his (then) employer. He stated that his last working day would be the 31st of October - thereby giving the company ample opportunity to employ a replacement. In his contract of employment, he was requested to give one months notice. He thought he was doing the right thing by offering almost 2 months. He also offered (after he'd left) to assist - after hours - should his replacement need help in 'settling in'. For the following fortnight, his resignation was totally ignored. Work colleagues started asking questions, such as when was he leaving & more importantly, why was he leaving. Around this time, the HR Manager of the company called Hubs into his office for a chat.........what was wrong/why did he want to leave? Hubs gave his reasons & he was asked to reconsider. The HR Manager spoke to me & asked me to try & get Hubs to reconsider. I had a face-to-face meeting with the snake............ooops, HR Manager, a few days later. I reiterated Hubs reasons for leaving & also stated that I fully backed his decision. Nothing else was said. Towards the end of September, Hubs reminded his Project Manager that he was going on leave from the 1st - 18th of October. The PM suddenly decided that he needed to take time off during this period & fully expected Hubs to cancel a 5-month-in-the-planning trip home. The PM did not get his request - for Hubs to cancel his leave, but took his own 'sudden' leave anyway, so it was a case of 'fuck the project'. Not Hubs' indaba. On the 1st of October, Hubs, myself & the rest of the HOG gang took off for our much anticipated trip to South Africa. A blast was had by all - as blog followers have read (so far). Whilst we were home, Hubs totally obliterated anything to do with work. He needed his holiday & by gawd, he was going to have it. After 10 days, half the gang had to return to the Sandpit. After a further week, Hubs & the remaining 2 also returned & I went to stay with my parents for a week. During my time with the folks, I received 2 phone calls on my cell phone. I didn't recognise the number right away, so I ignored them. The 3rd time it happened, a candle flame in the back of my sludge went off & I recognised the number to be that of Hubs (now ex) employer. I answered & spoke to the snake/HR Manager, who was calling - yet again - to try & get me to change Hubs' mind about leaving. I again told him it was too late & the decision stands. In a polite manner, he told me that my husband was making a big mistake. I replied that it was his decision & we'll live with the outcome. At the end of our conversation, he repeated "I'm telling you Jayne, he's making a BIG mistake"......................only this time, it was in what certainly came across as a threatening manner. Not long after my phone conversation, I sent an email to the snake, going over yet again, the reasons why Hubs had chosen to leave. I asked him that if the company were insistant in us vacating our apartment, that I be allowed a decent amount of time in order to find a new apartment & to also make arrangements for moving. I never heard a squeak................no 'OK fine/no it's not possible/kiss my arse' - zilch, fuck all. I spoke to Hubs several times & he told me he was trying to find a new apartment, but it was really difficult as he had to work. I arrived back from SA, caught up on missed sleep & the following day, started my hunt for a new apartment. Less than 24hrs after I arrived back in the Sandpit, I had some fuckwit from the company phoning to ask when he could view our apartment. I told him in polite terms as possible that when I'd found somewhere else & got packed, then they could come & look. This oke didn't get the message & phoned just about every day. Eventually I shouted down the phone "FUCK OFF!" He got the message that time. I managed to find another apartment, less than a block away & with underground parking for the bikes, but at double the rent. I hate moving - having done it some 36 times now - but it was a case of having to. Hubs' new employer had a cheque arranged for us within 48hrs & no objection to the lease being put in our name. On the day I moved out, I made sure the apartment was clean throughout. I informed the fuckwit (who'd been hassling me to view it) that he could collect the keys at the apartment at a specific time. I pitched up a few minutes early & my heart kinda sank...............my home..............the one I fucking well found by myself & the one that Hubs had paid in extra for, because his company gave a pathetic housing allowance, was bare & desolate in my eyes. The company fuckwit walked in & said "Oh you've made it so nice!" I could've quite easily decked him. I merely told him that I had indeed made it into a home...................for some other bastard to take. "I can see you're still angry" he said. Getaway!! Angry? Moi? I'm overfuckingjoyed to hand it over mate, wouldn't you be the same? DUH! Fucking arsehole. At the end of October, Hubs didn't receive his salary, nor did he receive his end of service benefits. When he asked why, he was told 'they' were busy calculating what he was due. Well, as I write today - the 25TH OF NOVEMBER - he STILL HASN'T BEEN PAID. Just over a fortnight ago, Hubs came home from work around 10am. He'd had a call from the legal department of his new employer to say the Dept of Immigration was threatening to deport both of us within 24hrs if his visa & labour card weren't cancelled - something his ex-employer REFUSED to do. And why did they refuse you may ask? Well, they gave him a blank form to sign, stating that he had indeed received all outstanding monies due to him! They told him they KNEW it was illegal "but, well, you know how it is................" No you fucking bunch of slimy Lebanese crooks, pray explain how 'IT' is hey? I was ready to kill. The initial panic turned to anger & to this day, it is simmering just under the surface. I guess it's Sods Law that if somminc goes wrong, everything goes wrong. On the day that we were informed about the deportation threat, our car had gone in for servicing, so we took the 'Glide & went to the (ex) company..............no more Mr Nice Guy...........we waited for the company's financial director to show his face. A brief meeting was held between him & Hubs, a settlement figure was reached & instructions phoned through to the Dubai office for them to cancel the visa(s) & labour card. We had to be there in person to do it, so off we went on the 'Glide. We got about 45km out of town & the bike developed an uncontrollable wobble. There was no evidence of a puncture & we didn't know what the hell was wrong, so we had to call the Harley dealer for a replacement bike. By the time we got to Dubai & the Dept of Immigration it was after 5pm. I honestly don't know if I should count it as a blessing, but the paperwork didn't take long & we're now both here on 30 day visas & the threat of deportation has vanished. We only found out that the labour card was cancelled the following day...................it's the same as the (ex) company not telling us that they needed my passport - they never even mentioned it, probably in the hope to cause even more delays & disruption. Bit of luck then innit, that I just happened to have it in my handbag. We arrived back in Abu Dhabi later that evening, physically & mentally exhausted. . For the life of me, I simply cannot understand what my husband has done to deserve the treatment he's had from his previous employer. Last year alone, he saved that company - the same one that boasts it is the 2nd largest in the UAE - some Dh30+million. He successfully negotiated the 3 largest contracts ever to be awarded in Abu Dhabi. He had done the work of 3 senior men by himself for 18mths - all the while believing the utter bullshit lies that the company fed him - they would be employing additional staff - just be patient - blah fucking blah. The biggest fucking mistake he ever made was staying as long as he did. As of today, the company has 3 more days to coff up his October salary & end of service money. If they renege yet again, I swear, I will take the law into my own hands. . Oh, by the way, to the supposed friends from the ex-company who read my blog, do me a favour; STOP PHONING FOR HELP & ADVICE! Ask your fucking employer for the answers to your contractual issues, not my husband. In closing this particular post, I have to admit I've long been aware that local - i.e. predominently Arab run institutions - will fuck you around, simply because they can. It grates my tits no end, but like any other expat, I'm expected to live with it. In the case of my old man & his ex-employer, I have taken it personally, simply because their whole childish reaction to his resignation, by means of fucking us around & with-holding his salary, is aimed at him/us in a personal capacity. . And finally, a message to the short-shit-poison-dwarf clerk who likes to think he's like herpes - untouchable......................think again ou maat. I too have friends in high places, but what should be worrying for you, are the friends I have in low places. I know your watering holes & I've heard about your illegal activities. Pasop. You never know who's waiting in the shadows.
Tuesday, November 11, 2008H.O.G. GOES BUSH (Part 2)We had such a great time at Mashutti Country Lodge near Tzaneen. The monkeys came out to play, but thankfully never got near the bikes. The whole setting of the lodge is one of tranquilty & peace. The chalets blend in with the bush & I (personally) couldn't have wished for a better place to stop, especially as Hubs & I were introducing our friends to rural South Africa.  After a couple of sundowners, we all headed up to the restaurant for dinner. We gathered at the bar (as one does) & ordered our food from there............no need to go & sit in the restaurant - the bar would suffice! After heaps of rather splendid grub, Hubs asked the manager if he had any mampoer. For the unenlightened, this is a traditional drink, normally made by farmers & akin to moonshine. The manager said "Sorry, no mampoer. I've got fokol!" Now to us, 'fokol' is the Afrikaans word for 'fuck all' so we assumed that the manager literally didn't have any mampoer. He was a really friendly chap & made us all extremely welcome, but Hubs was a bit disappointed that he didn't have a bottle of mampoer tucked away somewhere. A few minutes later, the manager came to us with a bottle of Fokol, from his own private stock!  This is what it says on the label:FOKOL Most people appreciate Fokol. They talk about Fokol. The poor cannot afford Fokol. The rich adore Fokol. Airlines know Fokol about Fokol than they care to admit, whilst Fokol seems to please Bank Managers, Managing Directors, heads of departments & insurance companies. In fact most people seem to be satisfied with Fokol , especially mothers-in-law & families. These days one can rely on Fokol since almost everybody in the New South Africa owns Fokol. In other words one cannot help but believe in Fokol. Specially prepared by commission of Aqua Centre Nelspruit, by people who own Fokol, for people who need Fokol in a country where Fokol is worth a lot of money. (1995) So after a bloody good laugh over this bottle of hooch, the time arrived when we had to sample it. Oh my gawd!! How the hell our lot managed to down a shot glass of this stuff & still have all their vital organs intact remains a complete & utter mystery! Tanya - like myself - doesn't drink, so we abstained. However, I was brave enough to dunk a finger into a glass & then 'taste' it. Sweet jayzus, I'm surprised the bloody stuff didn't dissolve acrylic talon on the end of my digit! I think my dentures suffered a toxic shock. My tongue went into spasms & that's before my throat went into an uncontrollable seizure. Talk about bringing tears to your eyes - I reckon 3ml of Fokol will incinerate all the bodys fluid producing glands! I swear that if you were to load a few litres of this stuff into the new Airbus A380, the friggin thing would fly at Mach 3. Anyone who has a dop of Fokol on a regular basis will surely need to sign a disclaimer with the manufacturer. It's the type of drink that'll leave your liver throbbing like an alien invasion at least 20 minutes after you've pegged it! Needless to say, the guys in our group who did drink it were very brave.....................altho' I think a couple of 'em were hanging on to their barstools for dear life!
The Three Rondavels, Blyde River Canyon. Bright & early the following morning (with the possibility of a few livers taking strain, courtesy of Fokol) Riaan* from Harley Davidson delivered a replacement bike for the UltraGlide that died on the highway to Polokwane. So, we loaded up & took to the open road again, this time heading for Pilgrims Rest. We were in no hurry & were gifted with another beauty of a day for riding. We stopped off at several places along the Blyde River Canyon - what a truly stunning sight!
 The Potholes were named after a gold digger, Tom Burke, who staked a claim nearby. Although his claim did not produce a single ounce of gold, he correctly predicted that large gold deposits would be found in the area.** * More on Riaan in the final part. ** Copied courtesy of www.sabie.co.za
Monday, November 03, 2008DISRUPTION REIGNS Thanks to the incredibly mean spiritedeness of Hubs' now ex-employer, we have to move. It's nothing short of a miracle that I found another apartment, just a block away, within 3 days of trying. It's on the 1st floor, which means we'll be even closer to the traffic, but beggars can't be choosers. I count my blessings - we have somewhere to move to, with the added bonus of underground parking for the bikes. The new rent is DOUBLE what we were paying. The greed of landlords - especially now in Abu Dhabi - is nothing short of obscene. Whilst packing our personal stuff this morning, I came across a drawer filled with Grandma's personal bits & pieces. She'd kept her original ticket out here, little brochures on wherever we took her & little momentos from wherever she'd been - i.e. bar of soap from the Hilton. It got me thinking - she was so excited to be here - she loved her life here, it was the ultimate in luxury as far as she was concerned. That little grey haired old lady, from a pit village in the heart of Yorkshire found her utopia when she came to live here, bless her. Today, as I pack for the 30-nth time, I feel fuck all except more than a slight loathing for this place. Recent circumstances have made me feel this way & I can't go into details, but right now, all I do is keep telling myself: three more years & then we're out of here. I fucking hate packing, as much as I fucking hate moving. I'm not having a good day! I have absolutely no idea when we'll get reconnected with the internet, but hopefully it will be in this lifetime. Until then, I'm on me bike................. Labels: fucking greedy landlords, homesickness and a desire to get violent.
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