Hanging ten
07/05/2008 13:16  - (SA)  

Chris Roper

If you know a Jo'burg businessperson - one of those super-efficient, time-managing types - and you want to drive him mad, get him to try and buy something from a surf store in Cape Town.

Many people believe that Capetonians in general are a pretty laid-back, lazy lot. Let me tell you, compared to their brethren who work in surf stores, your average Capetonian is a combination of Donald Trump and a border collie on speed.

Surf store staff are like salesmen in Satan's Shoe Store, forever handing you two left shoes. At the same time, like Satan, they do have an upside.

Hear my tragic tale. Finding myself in Durban, on February 29th oddly enough, I go to the Surf Zone surf store to enquire about hiring a surfboard for early the next morning, so that I can have a surf before my meetings start. The store owner says the store only opens at 09:00, which I say is too late for me. "Hey," he says, "No problem. Just take a board now, and bring it back tomorrow."

Talk about generosity. He doesn't know me from a bar of wax, but he'll lend me a board, just like that. Now that's the upside of surf culture. I don't borrow the board, but in a fit of gratitude, I buy a nice waterproof watch. The surf store owner says it costs R2 000, but when he checks the price, he sees it's actually R2 300."Ag, take it for R2 000," he says. Damn, what a nice guy.

Waterlogged

Fastforward three days, and I'm getting out of the water in Cape Town. I ostentatiously check the time on my new watch, and it's full of water. No problem, can happen to anyone. Luckily, Surf Zone has a branch in Cape Town, so I take the watch back the following day. The owner is apologetic - he even offers me a loan watch! - and says he'll send my brand new watch back to Quiksilver in Durban, and they'll repair it.

Two or three weeks later, I walk into the store, and ask after my watch. Nah, it's not back yet, the mellow dude leaning against the counter tells me. Fine, whatever, I'm cool with that. I leave my number, and he promises to phone me when it returns.

Two weeks pass. Many waves come and go, the tide rises, the tide ebbs. I phone the store. "Nooit, sorry man, I've been phoning Janice [I think he said Janice], but she says no, the watch hasn't arrived. It's lost somewhere. I, like, gave her the number and everything, but it's lost."

I ponder this for a while, and sigh deeply. I tell the young man that I've paid them for a defective watch, and it would be nice if I could get it back. I mean, no pressure or anything, but if he could just give me a little hope?

He promises to phone Janine or Janet or whoever, and get back to me immediately. A week or so later, I walk into the store again. Okay, I say to him, I'll give you another R2 000 for a more expensive watch. That way, you get another 2k, I get a watch, and you sort out the lost one at your own leisure. He says he'll ask the owner, and get back to me immediately.

We'll get back to you

A week later, I phone up again, and ask to speak to the owner. "Cool bru, just hold on," says some drawling lad called something like John. He bangs the phone down on the counter.

I spend the next 25 minutes listening to him having a conversation with his fellow employees. It's fascinating, Apparently, the chick is, like, totally into him, but, like, a bit of a boardbag or something, bru. Again, I could have misheard that, but the words pork, nooit and sif were definitely in there somewhere.

So I wait an hour or so, and phone back. "Nooit, sorry sir, I noticed the phone off the hook, I schemed I'd just knocked it maybe."

Fine. Now listen carefully. "Me buy watch February 29. Watch broken. Today May 5. Two months me wait for watch. Don't make me come over there and cut your hair..."

"Ja, nooit, I'm sorry sir. I'll check right now with Joanne, and phone you back."

At the time I write this, it is May 6, 2008 and I'm still waiting. I don't have much hope, as I see the heading of the top of the Surf Zone website reads: "17 Jan 2003: The news of the day is that the SurfZone website finally grew some content. Yeeha!"

But I don't care about the watch anymore. What worries me is, maybe the way I see these surf idiots is the way Jo'burgers see we Capetonians. Maybe they see us as the retarded love-children of a slug and Goofy, just without the personality.

But I've learned something from this saga: unbelievably, it is possible to be too mellow.