My husband has Covid-19. My kids do too. We all live in this small house and cannot exactly self-isolated. We have one back room. That’s where I’m staying with my youngest baby, Khetha. We trying to be strong, but yho, it is a lot. 

Miles still expects me to come into work. Apparently working in the warehouse makes me an essential worker. Yesterday, I took my child with me because I have no one to leave her with. Miles lost his mind. He shouted at me and humiliated me in front of the entire team. I honestly don’t know what needs to be done. My HRBP advised me to take leave and deal with what they call “my family drama”. She then said when I get back to work, I should no longer have excuses and just do my work. In other words, I must no longer have family responsibilities or at least they don’t want to hear about it. 

I want to phone Lydia and honestly ask her to make a plan for me to permanently move out of the warehouse. I enjoyed working in the offices. I don’t want to work with Miles anymore. He is a bully and he makes it extremely difficult for me to do my job. I wish I could apply for other jobs in other companies, but with this Covid-19 thing, who is hiring? 

I dial Lydia’s number. She answers after three rings. 

“Hi Portia”, she answers. 

“Hi Lydia. How are you?” Me. 

“I’m okay thanks. What can I do for you?” She asks me. 

“Lydia, is it possible for me to permanently move into your team and work with you guys? I need to move out of the warehouse”, I tell her. 

“Portia, I don’t have that kind of power. I’m not even in HR. I don’t know how these kinds of movements work. Why aren’t you having this conversation with your HRBP?” She says. 

“My HRBP is useless and always sides with my manager. Please Lydia, I’m begging you. I wouldn’t be asking you if I wasn’t desperate. Can’t you talk to Mr Ramaru for me to make a plan? He has the power to tell anyone what to do”, I say. 

“Bathung Portia. I don’t influence Thomas’ business decisions. Hai bo!” she says. 

“I know. This is a favour. I’m just asking for this one favour. Please.” I beg her. 

“I’m sorry Portia, I cannot help you.” She says. 

“This may be nothing to you and Mr Ramaru because it is beneath your lines of earning. But Lydia, this is my life. This money is my children’s money. I cannot afford to lose my job. If I continue to work where I am right now, I will lose my job. You know you can help me and you choosing not to help me.” Me. 

“This is not my line of work, Portia, and it’s unfair of you to put this on me. The company has more than enough structures to deal with these kinds of matters. I’m not one of those people and I do not form any of those structures. We all have our issues, Portia. I’m dealing with mine too. So please, don’t ask these kinds of things from me again,” with this, she hangs up the call. 

What am I going to do kodwa? 

…

I am still on leave and I am trying my best to be supportive to my family. I am however, very stressed out about my job situation. Honestly, what am I going to do? I take a walk to the shop, with my baby wrapped in a towel on my back, to buy some data so that I can check out some job vacancies. I am on leave for three weeks, as recommended by my HRBP. 

“Sanibonani“, I greet the spaza shop man. 

“Hello mah. How can I help you?” The man. 

“R100 data please”, I say and give him R110 because in the township, the spaza shop owners must make their profits. 

He gives me my data. As I load the data into my phone, I ask him. 

“Bhuti, do you know of anyone who is looking to hire a person?” 

“Are you looking for work? What kind of work can you do?” He asks me. 

This seems promising. 

“Anything bhuti.” I say.

“The person who manages my mobile kitchen at the taxi rank has resigned. I am looking for someone who will manage it for me”, he says. 

“What would the work entail?” I ask. Honestly, I’m not keen. I must leave a warehouse to go work at a taxi rank and sell food to disrespectful sweaty men? Not my kind of thing. But when I think about Miles, the taxi drivers seem like a better crowd to deal with as stakeholders or customers. 

“You will mostly be cooking and preparing plates for customers”, he says. 

“By myself?” I ask.

“There are two other people who will be there to help you, but you’ll also have to manage it. And I know you Sis’Portia, you work in a company so managing will be good for you”, he says. 

“So how are you operating under Covid-19?” I ask. 

“Ja, we’ve had to stop operations for now, but it’s not forever.” He says. I like the hopefulness. 

“How much does this job pay?” I ask. 

“R5000 a month”, he says. 

“For managing and running a mobile kitchen? Hai khona! that’s too little”, I say. 

“It’s what I can afford. Phela I also have to live.” He says.

“What if I did it part time?” I ask. 

“Part time?” He enquires. 

“Yes. So I keep my job, then on my off days, after hours and during weekends, I will be at the mobile kitchen”, I say. 

“Hai bo! It’s a job that requires you to be there all the time.” He says. 

“Let’s at least just try. If it doesn’t work, then we will let it go”, I propose. 

“No. It’s either you take it full time or not at all”, he says. 

Now that my phone is loaded with data, I leave his spaza shop and go back home. 

Khetha is now asleep, so I put her down in the backroom that she and I are staying in. I make my way to inside of the main house and I make lunch for those who are sick in the house as well as prepare more mhlonyana for them. I then start cleaning the house. I have a PPE suit on as I deep clean the house. I do this everyday. When I am done, I tell them that I am done then leave again and retire to the back room. 

After I have taken off my PPE and put it in the bathtub full of water and washing powder, I start searching for jobs while Khetha plays with her toys on the bed. There are call center jobs that are advertised. Eish, do I really want to? But I start applying anyway and hope for the best. 

…

It is about midday when I see my HRBP walk through my gate. What exactly is she doing here? I walk out of the backroom and meet her outside. She’s not coming into my house. 

“Hi Portia”, she says with a professional smile on her face. This is not the office. I don’t have to be nice. I don’t offer her a chair or anything to drink. I don’t even greet her back. I just look at her. 

“I was hoping we could talk”, she says.

“I’m listening”, I participate in this conversation.

“I think we can both agree that things are not going well in your current role and we are trying to find an amicable solution for all parties involved”, she says. 

I look at her, waiting for her to carry on with what she wants to say. 

“I was wondering if you would be open to negotiating a mutual separation agreement?” She says. 

“You said I could rotate to another area. I went there for three days then you took me back to Miles’ team. What was the reason for that?” I ask her. 

“You were needed back in the warehouse”, she says. 

“Why? Clearly now they want me to move again, so there’s no reason for me to still be there”, I say. 

“You need to remember that when you moved, you moved with headcount. Miles needs your headcount. You are welcome to move to another area. Apply for a role and if you are successful, you move. You just cannot move with headcount”, she says. 

I hate this headcount conversation with my whole heart. 

“So, can we negotiate?” She says. 

“I’d like to involve the trade union in this. Clearly, you are now constructively dismissing me”, I say. 

“That’s a bit extreme. We just want a solution that will benefit everyone”, she says. 

“How will it benefit me? Do you see where I live? You come to my house on my day off while I’m taking care of my husband and kids who are painfully suffering from this Covid thing, and you come tell me – in the middle of my stressful moments of wondering how else I can work around supporting the three to four households in my family- that you want to pay me to be without a job. How is what you are discussing with me right now beneficial for me?” I ask her. 

She is silent. I guess there is no HR answer for this question. 

She finally speaks after a moment or two and says, “Look Portia, you are not performing. This is a fact. You are frustrated. This is a fact. Maybe leaving the company isn’t the worst thing that could happen. You’ll find something else. In my opinion, it’s better to leave this way than to be dismissed for poor performance. Maybe think about it before you make a decision”.

“In other words, I’m leaving whether I agree to it or not. It’s in my best interests to just take your mutual separation agreement and leave myself instead of getting dismissed?” I clarify. 

She gives me a feint smile then she leaves. 

Am I really going to work in the taxi rank mobile kitchen? Why won’t Lydia help me? I need the intervention of someone extremely senior at this point. 

I phone Lydia again. I need her to help me. 

“Portia”, she answers. 

“Lydia, please. I need your help. I’m begging you. I’m desperate. My HRBP just left my house. She was talking about a mutual separation agreement. Please Lydia.” I cry. 

I need this girl to hear me. She is sleeping with Thomas. She can help me. She can. She can just talk to Thomas after opening her legs for him. It’s that simple for her. 

“Portia, let me call you back. Give me a few minutes”, she says. 

I choose to trust her. 

Indeed she calls me back after about thirty minutes. 

“Lydia”, I answer my phone. 

“Can you get to my place?” She asks me. 

“I’ll ask my neighbour to bring me”, I say.

“Its fine, nevermind, I’ll come to you.” She says then hangs up.

After about forty-five minutes, I see her car drive up my street. I am so desperate I even waited for her at my gate for twenty minutes. Her car is a two door car so I get into the passenger seat. Mr Ramaru is driving. She is sitting in the backseat. I am suddenly intimidated. 

“How can I help you, Portia?” He says. I am super intimidated. I have never had a single conversation with this man ever before. People like me work in his company and make him money, but we are invisible to him. 

“Portia, we came all the way to Soweto. Say something”, Lydia says. 

“Sir, I can’t lose my job. I look after so many people with the money I earn.” I say.

“So why don’t you earn your money? I hear you have excuses every week and you being a family woman comes between you and what you are supposed to be doing for our company”, he says. 

“Sir, I do admit that I have had some personal challenges in the past. But I cannot lose my job. I think I’m just not a fit for Miles’ team”, I say. 

Mr Ramaru has not looked at me even once throughout this conversation. He also looks too awkward and too tall to be driving Lydia’s little car. 

“Where would you be a good fit?” He asks me. 

“Lydia’s team”, I say. 

“Lydia doesn’t have a team. The people that Lydia works with are much tougherthan Miles. Lydia may make her job look easy, but it isn’t.” He says. 

“Anything is better than working with and for Miles”, I say. 

“So Miles is the problem?” He asks me. 

I am silent. 

“What do you want me to do? Save your job or move you to a different team?” He asks me. 

“Both sir”, I say. 

He is silent. 

“Fine. You’ll do admin work for Pearl’s office. She’s been complaining about needing extra hands. You’ll work with her assistant and Mthunzi Msomi’s PA as well. You mess up with them, you are gone. I’m not saving you from Pearl. Mthunzi, I’m not worried about. He is an easy guy, just do your work – that’s all he ever expects of staff. Pearl is a headache. If you can survive Pearl, I’ll know that Miles is the problem and I’ll fire him. If you can’t handle Pearl, I’ll leave her to fire you.” He says. 

“So someone is getting fired?” I ask. 

“I’m in Soweto. I could be concluding a deal, but I’m in Soweto doing HR work because someone thinks my company is their grandfather’s spaza shop. A head must be cut for that. Thanks Portia, you will be hearing from HR soon.” He says. 

I want to say thank you, but I also feel like he has just dismissed me. That Pearl that he has assigned me to is just…

I get out of the car and he drives off.