What I will forget (continuation)

¤          I will forget this recriminations’ letter sent by a woman member in which she reproached me for not respecting in SEL the rules of love, happiness and people’s freedom. She only enrolled and never participated to a single meeting; I was slightly astonished of her gibberish but I preferred forget it. Later, I learned than her concubine had ditched her for another member (a woman too). He quickly understood the SEL mechanics: he hurried to swap a less ugly for a not beautiful one. The problem is that this transaction was not even posted in the setting of SEL because this beloved concubine declared absolutely nothing. Therefore, I notice that he was guilty of working to the side in regards to SEL activities.

            I was then telling you that our opportunist exchanged an ugly girl for a fresher. It is true that he could have been a little more generous and put them both in his bed. He exaggerates all the same!

            And me, in there, what could I do?

I could not set up an other association to console the cuckolds all the same! 

¤          I will try to forget the olives’ cores under the table. At our first meeting, a member with behaviour at the very least extrovert was present. He alone knocked back a litre of Martini (on the account of the others, of course) and swallowed all the appetizers. Some days after, I go and see our hosts again and they tell me that they recovered a heap of olives’ cores under the table, right side up where was seated our character. I remember to have felt a strange bother as if I had hooked myself. In any case, I felt concerned. To the point to never reinvite our Master of Ceremony Disaster to any meeting.

¤          I will forget this senile that made me run during several hours in all her house to do some repairs. I had to come back to put a mouldy small disc to a hinge of garden portal. Meanwhile, her neighbour did the intervention, his big quality was that he exactly has in his paraphernalia THE small disc with THE needed diameter and thickness (in a tools box, even very well-stocked, you barely find the needed size). Following this masterly intervention of the ingenious saving neighbour, my refined woman member called and informed me that her neighbour told her that people of SEL “are not talented...”

            Stupidity and misery. 

¤          I will forget this couple of “good-looking people” whom I had to ask on three times the amount of an half contribution (60 francs). Even with respectable people, it is necessary to negotiate the tails of cherries. 

¤          I will forget this “horror” of the Nature, mid-woman, mid-man, who showed the intention to rebuild the world from the mind of SEL. In front of so much goodwill, I advised her to fill the whole France of SEL organizations and start to tidy up her messy home. To the latest news, she has found a concubine who does the housework and they make together a nice couple.

¤          I will forget this proslavery specialized in the exploitation of work provided by social cases. His trade consists in sheltering mental disabled for "services" provided by these handicapped people.

Poor sort of fellow, this employer!

¤          I will forget the specialists of anonymous phone calls. I will forget them, because I always perfectly knew who was at their origin. How I was irritated when a woman (or a man) member complained to me because she had been disturbed on phone by a fanatic. It was often a simple tooting with the silence at the other end after having unhooked. It might be someone completely foreigner to SEL but it might also be the opposite. No matter, in any case, I filthily felt concerned and indisposed. Nothing such to institute suspicion within a group. 

            It was a choice since the beginning: to put or not to put each member's telephone numbers on the offers and demands catalogue. I chose to bet on confidence and on loyalty when writing the precise each member’s whereabouts in the SEL’s bulletin. This beautiful transparency often made me gloomy. This open-mindedness, this frankness, the sincerity that I waited from each member, I practically did not find them. This problem of the phone’s underhand little devils was settled in September 97 when “France Telecom Company” (that I bless) had the good idea to launch on the market particular devices, which register the correspondent's number. 

            Nothing more cowardly than an anonymous phone call. I imagine the spinelessness, the cowardice, the cretinism that are necessary to show in hiding himself behind the telephone. I also imagine the state of distress, the neurosis and the sadness of the man or woman who calls in these conditions. 

            YOU!, you! and you!, be aware that I have unmasked you! Be aware that I soon will adjust your account. Be aware that you will not know any respite from now on. Because, what you did not know is that our SEL group was so well organized that it had a monitoring table with memorization of each phone call of all the SEL members (it is called “C.I.A.-SEL Department”). Not a single sigh, not a single fart, not a simple finger’s light touch on the phone’s keys, which was not recorded! Weeks and weeks under surveillance at the conclusion of which, investigation results will be published in a big national daily paper. Our Punitive Brigade grinds just now each one of these messages. You will receive its visit soon. Tremble carcass! Even in your tombstone, they will be going to pull your toes! 

            Nasty woman and nasty man: you must “exchange” a phone call; you have not “give” it! 

¤          I will forget the pedantry of V... who seems to mistake SEL for the Club Med. I want to play the role of a GO but not to be her Gogo. (In French: GO = “Gentil Organisateur” = nice organizer (in the Club Med) and Gogo = sucker.)

¤          I will forget those who have a head to be always debtors... even in grains of SEL. 

¤          Undoubtedly, I get out of my memory this silly woman, adept of the second life after the passage on Earth. She especially saw in SEL the opportunity to use the clandestine manpower for her establishment (hotel with restaurant). After she read my fascicle “Let's have some sugar with SALT!”, she took fright and fled. She might have taken me for an IRS controller.

            Perhaps, I should really offer my services to the Fiscal Administration? 

¤          I will forget this gossipy false astrologer, a real thief, who wished to confide me her accounting to fake it to pay less taxes. I nevertheless bore this “professional specialised in consolation of wounded hearts” two hours. At the third hour, I crushed her. 

            Had not she foreseen this outcome because her talents? 

¤          I will forget those you think to bring help to and who spit at your face to thank you. They stand up in front of you, they complain and implore your assistance. You incorporate them in a structure where they have the opportunity to bloom but after that they complain because they have been disturbed by phone calls.

            Moaners, keep alone: you are too numerous for me! 

¤          I will forget all those whom I did not take in SEL and it would have been necessary anyway to forget. 

¤          I will forget this expert in all trade association who made an appointment with me to propose the creation of an activity. He seemed full of good will and his expertises were apparently multiple: foundations, big work, second work, electrical, furnaces, etc. He had planned everything for interventions on building site. He only forgot a small detail: to come to our appointment. 

¤          I will forget what some say: “Better to be alone than badly accompanied”. I do not know how to live alone because I find that my life would have no sense.

¤          I will forget these investigations done without my knowledge by officialized snoopers or not (General Information, Police, Prefecture or I don't know who or what) to check if we were a Mafia emanation, a devastating political current or a revolution in walk. If my police record would have not been clean, I am sure that, a spirit coming out of the shade would have made it known. 

            Boo! SEL Ghost, frighten them! 

¤          I will forget the washing machine story of my beloved accountant and will write it off as a loss. Remember, he is the one of the Three Nickel-plated Feet’s band, the well looking gentleman, full of good will but always busy elsewhere. He might correctly know how to hold a pen but is completely zilch with a screwdriver in hand. We had just made acquaintance and he calls me some days later because his washing machine is out of order. I conscientiously had an appointment with him in the evening at a precise hour because the two spouses work during the day. Very often vicious a washing machine breakdown, even for a specialist. First, it is necessary to change the deficient fuse of the concerned electric circuit in the apartment. “No problem” he said to me, “ fuses, there are plenty above the electric meter”. There are plenty, yes, and they are all blown. My ignoramus electrician-amateur stocked them all there because nothing looks like a good fuse than a blown fuse, especially if one does not know what is a Metrix. Not serious, I will come back with the appropriate calibre and diameter. Cost: twenty francs that I will bear and that I will compensate in grains of SEL (no petty cash between us). I make an appointment with him an other evening, (the couple is not always available), come to install my fuses, disassemble the machine, titillate it in all ways and I managed to start it again. Two days later, new phone call: it does not work anymore and the linen of Madame waits in the vat filled of water. I run, drain the machine, disassemble the closing contactor of door that I suspected to be deficient and leave to buy an other one. He asks me all the same by politeness if he has to advance money for the purchase of the spare part. “In SEL, we also do the bankers” I remember to have answered with sovereignty. (There are some days where I wonder if I am not the result of a crossing between Cleopatra and Tutankhamen.)

The spare part in question is not easy to unearth but I finally find precisely what I need and buys it with my own deniers: 160 francs. The following day, satisfied in advance by the brilliant repair of which everybody will be delighted, I valiantly go back to the accountant’s house so that he can wear freshly washed clothes.

            A new washing machine!, they bought a new washing machine! It is what he tells me with his simple smile of aware consumer. I remember to have tightened with strength in my pocket this damned contactor not to swing it to his face. Vexed, I cowardly sputter that they did well. I dare to timidly notice them that we could have recovered the former machine to allow our SEL group to benefit from it but, too late. These bungling idiots nevertheless ask me if they owe me anything. Gamely, I answer no. I take the responsibility of my intervention until the end: I will try to get repay the 160 francs by the spare parts retailer.

            The supplier in question refused to repay them to me. Humiliation until the end.

            I always have it, this damned contactor. 

            Notice to the French population:

“The one who owns a Laden 620, year 1985, with electric breakdown situated to the level of the opening of the door valve, contacts me most urgently. Fast intervention after acceptance of the estimate. Payment by certified check emanating from the “Banque de France”.

¤          I will forget that to have money procures more satisfaction than to have grains of SEL. 

¤          I will forget that it is better to be beggar than showy in the name of intelligence. I will also forget that it is better to be showy than beggar in the name of elegance. 

¤          I will forget that I never, once, only a single time, heard or received a written message with these two words only: “Thank you...”