Mole In The Hole

Written By: The Lowdown - Jul• 01•13

Groundee Rent AGAIN


I use a saying “I may not always be right, but I am never wrong”. Well, it just goes to show you, my far better half did indeed prove me wrong. She is quite good at it, it is rather irritating but there you go, my boundless optimism was misplaced again.


Over a month had passed since I had seen Mr. Chilembo heading into Registry to put right the dreadful inaction of a chap so that my letter containing my cheque for ground rent could be retrieved from the registered post received desk at the post office. I had not received any receipts so I thought I had better go and check on the situation. Horror of horrors, the computer spewed out the same information, I had not paid a penny of ground rent!


Up the stairs I went again to Mr. Chilembo’s office and, as chance would have it, he was in. This, and you had better believe it, is a rare occasion to find any senior official actually in his office. That is why there is a positive raft of ladies about the place to issue excuses for the absences of their bosses. Why is a raft of ladies required? Well over half of them seem to be not where they are supposed to be so the others make excuses for all those away from their place of work.


I was somewhat loud and displeased with Mr. Chilembo. It was water off a ducks back but he did summon the person concerned to his office. This again was extremely lucky, he was in as well. Upon his arrival I recognised the man who had assured me 4 months previously that he had collected the letter. I called him for what he was, an oxygen thief and a bare faced liar. His response was that it was his task to collect mail but not Registered Mail! I resorted to mild mining language calling him, amongst other things, a silly bugger. He seized upon the term with outrage, “I am not a bugger”. I immediately apologised profusely, “No, you are not, at least buggers do something!” Mr. Chilembo called us to order. He asked me to return in the morning when all would be resolved.


The next day I called at the bank to ensure that the bank guaranteed letter would not have expired. Aah but! There is a new system, the truncated cheque system, so that if it goes into clearing it will bounce! Yes, you guessed it. “If the Left hand don’t get you, the Right one will!” I returned home, got my cheque book and a black pen, wrote out a cheque sufficiently large to cover two years worth of ground rent, returned to the bank to ensure that it had been correctly made out and then went on to the Ministry of Lands and Mr Chilembo’s office. There, after a short wait, I met Mr. Chilembo and there, on his desk, was my letter and the now useless cheque. I explained the situation and proffered the new cheque. “That is OK, Sir, now all you have to do is go downstairs and pay it in.” I turned purple with rage; he hastily assured me that he was only joking, escorted me back down the stairs, took me into a little office, gave the letter and cheque to another lady and told me to relax as all would be fine. It then took another 30 minutes before I was issued with receipts and went on my way, rejoicing, back to the bank with the old cheque which could then be credited back to my account, taking only two weeks to do so.


So, there you go, another lesson, hard earned, that the best thing to do in future is drop your garden servant off with a bundle of money whilst you stay at home and grow the cabbages, mow the lawn and commune with nature in general. This methodology should be applied to sundry activities, such as sorting out NAPSA, getting your motor vehicle fitness done (though this does incur a bit of a risk, the garden servant might possess a driving licence but, by the way that he handles the lawn mower, it might mean that your newly fit motor vehicle might need a spot of panel beating by the time it is returned to you!) as well other chores such as the renewal of road tax and carbon tax.  All of a sudden your life expands into oodles of spare time so that you can relax and cosset your blood pressure instead of the reverse!


There remains but one unanswered question. Did the responsible gentleman go and pick up only my registered letter and leave all the other mail, registered or not, behind at the post office? To assist in the regulation of my blood pressure I have reminded myself that Curiosity does not only Kill Cats!

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