Pity we don’t possess a computer’s “delete all” to clear the deck. The scene opens in the boardroom of a company called Action Nuclear Corp (ANCorp, but not to be confused with the acronym of the notorious governing one).
Funny enough, this ANC won the tender from the bad one to research alternate power sources. Shareholders, of whom I’m one, have been summoned by the auditors for an important announcement.
Before the meeting is formally opened, tea is served together with a box reading “Come fly with Dudu’s mouth-watering cream cupcakes”. Ms Myeni’s new venture?
The firm’s secretary, a pretty blonde lady with pouting ruby lips encircling a set of sparkling white teeth, has her laptop open, ready to record the minutes. The machine’s logo, the word Sahara in bright blue, catches my eye.
Thankfully that company has since been closed and abandoned. The secretary totally misreads my stare, blushingly giving me a smile.
The spokesperson for the auditors interrupts our misinterpreted eyeballing, manhandling a folder needing a forklift truck to shift, just for theatre of course, as his pronouncement is short but not so sweet.
While speaking, he casts a beady eye around the table until it rests where ANCorp directors are seated.
“We found certain directors have benefitted from the research tender to the tune of three million rand each,” he says.
“These amounts were part of the total cost charged to the government. The Hawks are on their way to make the arrests and Judge Raymond Zondo is eyeing the company chair. We suggest the errant directors stand down and get good lawyers”.
The meeting erupts with shouts and verbal abuse from the shareholders, one aiming the rest of Dudu’s cupcakes at the hapless accused, leaving them with dripping cream on their faces.
During all this time the secretary keeps typing, evidently recording the saga verbatim. My Heidi shakes me awake.
“Who were you calling cupcake?”
I turn, feigning loud snores.