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I believe in being proactive, punctual, passionate and polite. So, I placed the order for Christmas for my top 50 clients two months before I needed them. Two weeks before the gifts were due to be delivered, I saw an article in the newspaper.  The supplier had gone bust.  My deposit and my order were in liquidation hell. I needed to make another plan.  Yes, I needed to be proactive. That’s when I got a call.  The girl sounded polite. I liked that.  She also sounded passionate about her project. I liked that too. She told me her name but I didn’t register it.  The only thing I heard was that she had a coffee table book with an African influence and that a portion of the proceeds from book sales would go to charity. I saw stars! My problem was solved. My clients would surely love me forever. I quickly forgot about the stupid newspaper article. The saleslady aka my angel and I agreed that we would meet in 2 days time. She needed to pick up a sample from the printer, who was behind schedule. She emailed me to confirm our meeting.  When I saw her name, I felt so stupid!  Definitely not the “polite” princess I fancied myself.  I knew her well but I treated her like a stranger.  I planned to give her a big hug and make up for it when we met.  I also planned to tell her about her new nickname.  Angel. I had not seen her in 7 years and wondered how time would have left its mark on her.  I wondered if she had kids and if life had treated her the way she deserved. She was the sweetest thing. I arrived 15 minutes before our meeting. She was late. Angel was losing points. I tried to distract myself by surfing the net.  I was annoyed. Being “polite” was going to be hard. I went to reception to check if they had heard from her.  They had not.  I tried her mobile, there was no reply.  I reconsidered her nickname. Seriously!  My time was precious, I thought. I went back to the email to see if I had gotten the date wrong.  I had not. She did not turn up.  Just like that I looked out for an email from her.  It did not arrive.  One day, two days. Nothing from Angel. I was not happy.  I liked being punctual. I liked being proactive.  I liked being polite but I was seriously annoyed. That evening, I received a text message.  It said “The memorial service of **** will be held at…” Angel had died.  Tragically. At her funeral, her son said “My mom was an angel. My angel”.  Then he turned to his schoolmates, hundreds of young boys all dressed in their school blazers and said “….and I am so jealous of you guys, because you still have your moms.  Mine is gone”. I burst out crying.  I cried for him. I cried for me. I cried for Angel. My clients never got gifts that year.  I figured it was destiny.

© A Heart Full of Stories, 2015. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Lee-Ann Mayimele and www.aheartfullofstories.wordpress.com with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

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