Broken

by Oliver T Spedding

  “Okay.” Garth said. “But just be careful. Are you sure that nobody will notice the incorrect total?”

  “Yes.” I said. “I’m the only one in the office that works with the cash and nobody ever checks my totals.”

  The following day when all the cashiers on the early shift had brought me their takings, I totalled the amount, put two thousand Rand into my handbag and filled in the reduced total on the deposit slip. On Friday morning I would replace the two thousand Rand and add it to that day’s total. The week’s takings in my book would then balance with the total deposited.

  When I got home I gave the money to Garth.

  “Garth.” I said. “Please promise me that you’ll take the money straight to Mister Bogdanovic first thing tomorrow morning.”

  “I promise.” Garth said.

  I went to work on the Wednesday, sick with worry. What if, instead of taking the two thousand Rand to Mister Bogdanovic, Garth used the money to bet on the horses? Being a Wednesday there would be a race meeting that afternoon. He had promised me that he would go straight to the money lender and pay the instalment, but then, he’d also promised some time ago that he would stop gambling. I tried to call him on his cell phone but, once again, it was switched off. Then, just before my lunch break, Misses Hawkins, my immediate boss, called me into her office.

  “Sit down, Cindy.” she said pointing to one of the visitor’s chairs.

  I sat down trying desperately not to panic.

  “Cindy.” Misses Hawkins said quietly. “You’ve been working here for just over a year now and we’ve been very pleased with your work. However, yesterday the total takings that you entered into the deposit book didn’t tally with the total takings recorded by the teller’s cash registers. It was two thousand Rand short. As I’m sure you know, all the cash registers are linked to the central computer which collects the total takings for the day from each one, deducts their floats, and gives us a total for all their takings.”

  My whole body went cold. It had never occurred to me that the cash registers were all connected to the main computer although it was now obvious to me that they would be. That was why I never saw anyone checking my work. They didn’t have to. The main computer did that for them. As there had never been a discrepancy in the past I had never been aware of the main computer’s function.

  “What happened to the missing two thousand Rand?” Misses Hawkins asked.

  I stared down at the carpet at my feet, sickened by the realisation that I had just ruined my whole future. Hesitantly I told Misses Hawkins the whole story.

  “Oh, Cindy.” Misses Hawkins said quietly. “Why didn’t you come and speak to me first? I could easily have arranged for the company to lend you the money.”

  “I didn’t think that the company would lend me money to pay off my boy friend’s gambling debts.” I whispered.

  “Cindy. You’re a valued employee of the company with an impeccable record.” Misses Hawkins said. “It’s none of our business what our employees do with any money that we lend them.”

  As I sat staring at the carpet, I felt tears well up in my eyes and begin the trickle down my cheeks. I wiped them away angrily with my forearm.

  “I really wish that I could help you, Cindy.” Misses Hawkins said. “But Checkers is a huge public company and it has very strict rules about theft by its employees. And what you’ve done amounts to theft, regardless of the fact that you intended to pay the money back. The company cannot change its policies or make exceptions. All I can do is try to persuade Mister Botha not to lay a charge of theft with the police. If he agrees, he will have no alternative but to dismiss you with immediate effect, deduct the two thousand Rand from your salary for this month and pay back the contributions that you’ve made into our pension fund. But you will leave here without any reference and you’ll be black-listed in the retail industry.”

  I nodded and stood up. Misses Hawkins came around her desk and put her arm around my shoulders.

  “I’m going to miss you, Cindy.” she said quietly. “You’ve been a pleasure to work with. Please learn from what has just happened. We all make mistakes, especially when we’re young, but the important thing is to learn from our mistakes.”

  I returned to my little office and began to pack my few belongings into a small cardboard box. Then I sat down at my desk and waited, not knowing what to do. About an hour later Misses Hawkins came into the cubicle.

  “As I thought, Mister Botha was very sympathetic but he can’t change company policy.” she said. “He won’t be laying a charge of theft against you so here’s your dismissal notice and your cheque for this month’s salary plus your pension fund contributions less the two thousand Rand. I’m really sorry that it had to end this way. Take care and good luck.”

  Misses Hawkins touched me gently on the shoulder and walked away.

  I had experienced depression many times in my life; after each assault on me by my father, after each sexual abuse of me by him and after the manager of the department store had forced me to perform oral sex on him. But I had never felt such deep depression as I felt that Wednesday afternoon as I walked back to Garth’s house after having been fired from Checkers. I found it difficult to believe that I had been so stupid as not to realise that all the teller’s cash registered would be linked to the main computer.

  I also berated myself for not having had the courage to approach Misses Hawkins with my problem. But I just hadn’t had the confidence to believe that my problems could mean anything to others. I had simply assumed that any request for a loan from the company would be rejected. But Misses Hawkins had said that I was “a valued employee of the company”. Could I really have been seen as someone of value? I had always seen myself as someone that other people used to serve their own purposes and that they regarded me with disdain. And I had always assumed that I was helpless to change this.

  My depression was deepened still further by my feelings of helplessness. Throughout my life I had constantly felt that I was incapable of changing the course of my life; that I was destined to be manipulated and used by people more knowledgeable than I was. Even though I realised that my helplessness was the result of my innocence and lack of experience and knowledge I knew of no way to change this. My lack of self-confidence prevented this. And even though I knew that I needed to change my self-image I had no idea about how to do this. If only I could convince myself that I was a capable person; a person with value who could achieve by not fearing failure.

  Perhaps my father had been right all along when he said that I was useless and incapable of looking after myself. What had just happened to me seemed to indicate this. I cursed myself for being so stupid and so helpless. And if I was so helpless why hadn't I asked Misses Hawkins to help me? Because I believed that I was too insignificant. Misses Hawkins was a busy person with lots of responsibilities. Why would she spend some of her precious time helping me with my silly problems? But then her words "you're a valued employee of the company" came back to me again. Was she simply being kind when she said that so as to ease my pain? Probably. And would anyone at Checkers even notice that I was no longer there? I doubted it.

  Misses Hawkins had been right when she said that we all make mistakes because we’re human and that we should learn from our mistakes. What she had meant was that it was only by making mistakes that we really gained experience. Obviously she wasn’t talking about silly mistakes that could easily have been avoided by using common sense. But I knew that I didn’t have the courage to test my capabilities. I had to convince myself that failure was part of growing up. But if one didn’t learn from one’s failures there would be no progress. Every failure had its reasons and I had to find those reasons and correct them.

  My immediate problem though, was to help Garth out of his predicament. I had grown to love him dearly and, even though he continued to display indifference towards me, I knew in my heart that he would eventually change. Like me, he had also experienced the horrors of abuse and as a re
sult had built walls around himself for protection. And, I imagined, a large part of that wall was the fear of showing emotion. I also struggled with this fear but I believed that, as a woman, I was more capable of overcoming it. Emotions seemed to play a much bigger part in women’s lives than it did in men’s lives.

  But how could I help Garth now that I was unemployed? I wondered if I could persuade him to go to the Child Welfare Department and tell them of the trouble he was in and ask them for help. Did I have the right to do this though? Wouldn’t he accuse me of interfering in something that didn’t concern me? Would he become angry and draw further away from me as a result? The old familiar feeling of helplessness descended on me. I could feel my anger towards myself growing within me. Coupled with this was my overwhelming frustration at my inability to find a solution. If only there was someone that I could turn to for help and advice. But there was nobody.

  I was greatly relieved when I reached home and Garth assured me that he’d paid the two thousand Rand to Mister Bogdanovic and that he now had a week in which to find one thousand nine hundred Rand to pay the second instalment. I had been frantic with worry that he might use the money to gamble on the horses in the hope of winning enough money to pay back the whole loan.

  “What will you do now?” I asked as we sat at the kitchen table.

  “I don’t know.” Garth replied. “How much will you be able to contribute towards the repayments?”

  “I won’t be able to contribute anything.” I said. “I’ve got bad news. I’ve been fired. My boss found out about the two thousand Rand that I took from the cashiers’ takings. So now I’m unemployed.”

  I had thought that Garth would express some sympathy towards me but once again all he showed was indifference.

  “I thought that might happen.” he said. “But you seemed so sure that they’d never find out; so I let you carry on.”

  “I suppose, now that I can’t contribute towards our living expenses you’ll want me to leave.” I said.

  “No.” Garth said. “Anyway; where would you go? Surely not back to your parents.”

  “No.” I said. “The only thing that I can do is try to find another job.”

  “That would help.” Garth said. “What kind of job will you look for?”

  “At this stage; anything.” I said. “I could start by trying to get a job as a waitress or as a bookkeeper in a small company. There’ll probably be a lot of ads in the smalls section of The Star newspaper.”

  Even though I had expected it, Garth’s indifference towards what had happened to me jolted and hurt me deeply. But again, I came to his defence. The abuse that he’d suffered as a child had surely caused him to reject any type of emotion except for anger and hatred. Emotions like sympathy and love were a weakness to him. But I strongly believed that, with time, he would overcome this lack of empathy. Until then, I was prepared to live with it.

  Garth stood up from the table and went to the fridge. He took out a beer.

  “Would you like one?” he asked holding out the can.

  “Thanks.” I said. After what I’d been through I needed a drink.

  Garth opened the can and handed it to me. He took out another beer for himself, opened it, and sat down at the table.

  “The immediate problem is to find the money to pay the next instalment.” he said.

  I took a deep breath.

  “May I make a suggestion?” I asked.

  “Sure.” Garth said.

  “Before I do, Garth, I want you to understand that I’m only trying to help.” I said. “If you think that I’m interfering then please say so. I don’t want to make you angry.”

  “Go ahead.” Garth said.

  “Garth. As I understand it, you’ve still got enough money in your investment account to pay back the money to Mister Bogdanovic, as long as you pay it back now.” I said trying to keep my voice from trembling. “If you did that you would save thousands of Rand in interest and you’d be free of the man.”

  Garth shook his head.

  “I can’t do that.” he said. “It wouldn’t work. Firstly, I would be too embarrassed to tell the Child Welfare people that I’d lost the money through gambling, especially as I’d assured them that I would stop gambling. And secondly, I don’t think that they would help me. If I went to them now they’d laugh at me.”

  “I don’t think that they’ll laugh at you.” I said. “If you go to Misses Phillips and admit that you’ve made a mistake and tell her the truth and show her how much money would be saved if you paid back the loan now, I’ve no doubt that she would understand. After all, she’s a human being and she’s also a trained children’s counsellor. Besides, what have you got to lose? If she doesn’t agree to help you, you won’t be any worse off than you are now. And I believe that she will help you. It’s her duty to help you.”

  “No.” Garth said stubbornly. “I just can’t do it.”

  “So, what are you going to do?” I asked.

  “I don’t know.” Garth said. “But I’ll think of something.”

  There were several job offers in THE STAR newspaper smalls, but one of them in particular seemed most suitable as far as my qualifications went. It was a small retail dry-cleaning business in the suburb of Kenilworth on the western side of Rosettenville and only five city blocks from where I was living. The owners of the business were looking for a young enthusiastic person with a basic bookkeeping knowledge. The advertisement gave only a street address. From the information in the advertisement I deduced that the business probably didn’t have a computer system and that everything was done manually. I also guessed that the business dealt mainly in cash and that the work would involve keeping records of the cash inflow, banking the money and paying accounts as they fell due. I would also probably have to keep a ledger.

  Fearing that the job would be taken before I got there, I walked to the address given in the advertisement early the next morning. The shop was already open when I got there I assumed because many of their customers probably dropped off their clothing on the way to work. I stepped into the shop and approached the elderly woman standing behind the counter.

  “I’m here to apply for the job advertised in THE STAR newspaper.” I said. “Has it been filled yet?”

  “No, it hasn’t.” the woman replied. “You’re nice and early and, to me, that’s a good sign. I just need to call my husband to take over from me here.”

  The woman disappeared through a door behind her and returned a short while later accompanied by an elderly man wearing a brown suit.

  “My husband will attend to the customers while you and I talk.” the woman said. “Please come into the back office.”

  I walked round the counter and followed the woman into the office. It was surprisingly large with three wooden desks arranged along one wall, a row of four steel filing cabinets along another wall and a small wooden table with a kettle and a coffee percolator against the third wall. A small white enamel washbasin with a towel hanging from a rack above it was fasted to the wall in one corner and several large colourful calendars hung behind the desks. Two long fluorescent lights hummed quietly on the ceiling above the desks. The room had a pleasant homely atmosphere.

  The woman walked to the centre desk and sat down, pointing to the visitor’s chair in front of it.

  “Please sit down.” she said and while I made myself comfortable she arranged some papers on the desk top. She looked at me and smiled.

  “I’m Misses Whiteside.” she said. “The man that took my place at the counter is my husband. We’ve been running this business for just over twenty five years but, because my eyesight is troubling me, we decided that we needed someone who can look after the accounts and do the books for us. As you can see, we don’t use computers but I guess that sometime we’ll have to start using them. Do you have any experience with computers? Oh, I am sorry! I haven’t even asked your name.”

  Misses Whiteside was probably in her early sixties with shortish white hair and very t
hick black-rimmed spectacles. She was thin and her face was deeply wrinkled. Her pale blue eyes were lively and friendly.

  “My name’s Cindy Bedford.” I said. “I have a Grade ten basic bookkeeping diploma and I’ve got a year’s experience dealing with cash, mainly using computers.”

  “That sounds like just what we’re looking for.” Misses Whiteside said. “Are you married?”

  “No.” I replied.

  “That’s good.” Misses Whiteside said. “As you can see, we’re a small business so you’ll be required to help with a few other chores such as typing a few letters and running errands such as collecting the post each morning. As you can see this is only our collection and dispensing depot. The factory where the cleaning and pressing of the clothes is done is in the industrial area of Steeledale. There, we have a staff of six workers plus a supervisor. We also have an industrial laundry there where we wash and iron pillowslips, sheets and curtains for some of the hotels in Johannesburg. So, one of your main tasks will be to keep a daily record of the cash that we take in, place it in the safe each evening and on Friday mornings total it all, pack it in the correct denominations, make out a bank deposit slip and give it all to my husband to take to the bank. You will also have to make a breakdown of the weekly wages for our staff and give it to my husband on Friday mornings so that he can deposit the takings and draw the money for the wages at the same time. He normally takes the money to the bank in an ordinary plastic shopping bag. Criminals don't expect people to carry money in plastic shopping bags. They expect them to use briefcases. But we won’t ask you to take the cash to the bank. It’s too dangerous for a woman. My husband will do that. Would you be prepared to do all that?”

  “Yes.” I said. “What hours would I have to work?”