In-store promotions

Everyone in the office thought it would be a great idea to get back to basics... and meet our customers in their natural environment.  However, circumstances played out, I found my self alone in the cleaning aisle this morning at Spargs Mall, Beacon Bay, hawking our cleaning cloths.

The people of Beacon Bay were actually pretty hospitable... I'd usually rank promoters alongside tele-sales marketers.  I tried to avoid being that guy, and even pre-warned one man by doing an exaggerated tip toe move with my arms out like a t-rex, incase he thought I wasn't about to pounce.  He seemed to appreciate the warning.  He bought a pack of cloths.

Some people, so eager to avoid me refused to make eye contact, instead looking away as they passed.  Too bad for them I was at an isle end.  A number of them ended up t-boning geriatric shoppers with their trolleys.  Small joys of the in-store promoter.

I kept a scorecard of packs sold on my hand.

Hazard lights

Of all driving etiquettes, the most misunderstood has got to be the acceptable use of hazard lights.

I made a quick trip downtown this morning, to buy a shirt for my first instore promotion tomorrow - yes, I will pounce on you like a veteran Jehovah's Witness at a street braai and sell more you microfibre cloths than you can fit into your trolley. Spargs Superspar, 12 - 2.  It's going to be educational.  and Epic.

I noticed two drivers, cruising, with a get-out-jail-free look on their faces, fooling around in the morning traffic, with their hazard lights on.
One of them sailed through a turning circle at a leisurely 60 looking like a volunteer ambulance driver on a sunday afternoon response call to fetch an employee from the chocolate factory who had accidentally fallen into a vat of Bournville Dark and wasn't hurt, or particularly upset about the accident.

The other, a lady looking for something, trawling along in a 1 ton truck... I couldn't make out the exact expression on her face... but whatever it was, it wasn't enough to make her look particularly concerned, or nearly as aggravated as the drivers queued up behind her.

Sole Destroyer 2012

It soon became apparent that listening to Britney Spears, "Not a girl, not yet a woman" just before I got out of the car to run a half marathon... was not a wise move.  The chorus looped through my head for the next 2 hours, as we crested hill after hill along the Sole Destroyer route.

That was pretty much my only complaint.  All other complaints were directed at the dirt road.  The race is probably the best organised in East London, and as sister Julia pointed out, you always get a nice shirt.  Expect to see a lot of bright orange runners on the roads of East London.

Running races are basically big groups of liars who get together to complain about their tendancy to enact free-will.  We all gave some strangers 40 bucks, then complained about our decision to run up lots of hills.  A mysterious culture.

You can see the details on ECMTB.co.za 

You can see the final results for the 2012 Caltex Sole Destroyer here

Break down

As I parked last night I knew I was taking a chance... I'd been on reserve for about 3 days and the needle was now actually below the empty line.
I've been lured into reserve-light-apathy by my old Hyundai, which was happy to run at about a millimeter past empty and so I thought I would be safe.

The irony is, this morning, en route to collect housemate Nic from the garage, where he had booked his car in for a service... my gas guzzler downed tools about 500m after I left the driveway.  I tried willing it on, I said nice things to it, I may have even rocked back and forward in my chair as if to school the car in movement.  Alas, a lack, of fuel.

Nic went to fetch some refreshments from the nearby BP, and then we were back on the road.