…are always asking me where I work.
I don’t know whether this is related to the global credit crunch that has recently led to so many job losses but I am really getting sick of people asking me where I work.
Some are even inconsiderate enough to ask me for my business card. Do these people work for the state security or what? Why don’t they mind their business, after all I haven’t asked them for any help?
I have a job and that is why I read The New Times instead of Imvaho! I am a professional hater and I do not need a business card to prove this.
…store their money in very weird places.
I am yet to see The Hater or Mr. Kamanzi or even Madam Mukagasana written on money. As far as I am concerned all the money used here has National Bank of Rwanda written on it.
This means that it belongs to all of us who have the privilege to touch it once it leaves the bank. My anger is with all those people who choose to keep it in their bras, shoes, stockings and even in their underwear!
When you think of how dirty some of the notes in circulation are because of such people, then you have no option but to envy The Hater who long switched to a Visa MasterCard (credit card). I think the government should enact a law for everyone to have a wallet.
…insist on me wearing an almost non-existent seat belt.
For fear of being caught on the wrong side of the tough Rwandan traffic laws, some crazy taxi drivers are in the habit of reminding me to wear my seat belt once I take the much coveted front seat.
The irony is that sometimes the seat belt in question is so old and actually a danger to the life it is supposed to protect! But the determined driver urges me to at least sit on it! Can u imagine?
I am not supposed to simply sit on a device that is meant to hold my body in position in case of a crash. Hey crazy chauffer, I paid to seat on a seat not a belt.
…choose to whistle in order to get the attention of a passer-by.
Unfortunately this is very common in our city. I find it to be a very lousy ‘mass communication’ stunt. This is because the action results in all those with good ears on the street turning to see who the ill mannered fellow that whistled looks like.
Fine, maybe your CV read: cattle keeper or game ranger but this habit does not apply to civilised human society, so drop it. If you cannot come close or call me by name then wait for another day for I am not a cow or a cat to be whistled at.
I think it is only sports’ referees and traffic officers with the right to whistle, with a whistle. Since I am not a sportsman nor do I drive but just a hater then no one should try whistling at me.
…wear shorts yet their legs are not a good sight.
We can all agree that this is still a rainy season and therefore not the most opportune time for donning shorts. However I often see some men trying to be funny by wearing shorts ostensibly to show off their ‘nice’ legs.
I saw one such fellow last Sunday and I must admit that for a while I thought he had put sugarcanes in the shoes since his legs were not the kind the public needed to see, leave alone me The Hater.
I sometimes wonder whether some people take time to see what the mirror has to say about their dress options before they leave their homes.
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