RUSSELL STREET, DURBAN
Normally I can at least picture a branch that I’ve been to but Russell Street is a complete blank. I was there with Aubrey Maclou and Keith Williamson and we were all sitting in close proximity to each other. Keith‘s marriage was imminent and he was telling Aubrey where they would stay initially. I was not really participating in the chat and was listening very casually. Keith was describing the block of flats where they were planning to stay and I heard him say that from the 10th to the 25th the flats were for holidaymakers only. That sounded totally ridiculous to me and I piped up and wanted to know where they would go during that period. Both looked at me totally blankly and asked what the hell I was talking about. So I clarified by saying, “If you have to make way for holidaymakers from the 10th to the 25th of a month, where will you stay for that spell?” Then both looked at me pityingly and started laughing – they meant that FLOORS 10 to 25 were reserved for holidaymakers, not dates as I had assumed. They didn’t let me forget that in a hurry.
SUNNYSIDE, PRETORIA
Peter de Villiers and I had to help get the branch audit started before we made our way back into the country. What a peculiar branch it was back in 1975. It occupied the ground floor of a block of flats. As time went by, the branch outgrew the premises and the flats one floor above were incorporated. Later still, the branch had to be extended into the floor above the first floor. Getting from point A to point B often meant endless stairs had to be climbed. Developing tummy trouble could spell disaster if you weren’t aware exactly where the toilets were. The one person who must have been happy as can be with these arrangements, was the landlord. He simply kept upping the rental gleefully.
The tellers’ counter was also a novelty to me. It was circular and all tellers were housed in the same enclosure which had no partitions. I had my doubts about the wisdom of this arrangement but who was I to carp when this had been authorized by Head Office.
KIRKWOOD
Just before I joined Internal Audit in 1975, I had a spell of relief at Kirkwood. I had to relieve the manager who was long overdue for leave. The old hotel was comfortable enough but I’ve never again encountered a place so riddled with cockroaches. When I returned to my room after supper, I would turn on the light grab my trusty can of Pyagra and drop down to the floor and start “firing” at the hordes of insects which were scuttling for cover. I must have killed hundreds of the loathsome creatures in the weeks I was there but their numbers just never seemed to diminish.
Soon after I started my first day, the branch’s wealthiest client asked to see me. He invited me to have a cup of coffee with him across the road at a café and not wanting to offend the old guy, I accepted. In the café he spotted meat pies in the warming oven and as they were home-made, he insisted I try “his” town’s produce. I had only recently had breakfast but once again accepted as I did not want to offend him. Typical of that category of person, he liked talking about himself and his exploits. One thing I recall him telling me was that there was an old “murasie” (ruin) on one of his farms. It was of some minor historical importance and he had heard a rumour that the Monument Commission was looking into declaring it a National Monument. He was having none of this nonsense as the forlorn old structure was just in his way so before any legal action could take place, he had the whole flipping thing flattened and bulldozed into oblivion. This caused a huge furore but they couldn’t charge him with anything as he had been too quick for them. I had a couple more “coffee and pie” days with the man and got to realize that “bulldozing” things, literally and figuratively was the way he had accumulated his pile.
I drove 5 Beetles in my time as I loved the tough little cars. I did everything I could think of to make my car stand out so while I was in Kirkwood, I splurged on a Monza free-flow exhaust system. It slightly improved the car’s performance but better still, it gave the car a satisfying, deep down growl which pleased my ears no end. Well, they used to say that the Beetle had twin exhaust pipes – one for the car and the other for the WINDGAT driving it. I won’t argue the point.
I did not stay in the town during the audit and chose to travel in and out from home in Port Elizabeth. Sadly my old coffee and pie friend had passed on in the interim and I was unable to reprise the pleasure of joining him at the café.
HUMANSDORP
When Mike de Villiers and I visited Humansdorp Basie Ferreira was the manager. This was my second encounter with a chap I grew to much respect and like. The branch was in an old building with a gable which was rather unattractive and overcrowded. Some chaps who had worked under him at Humansdorp (Sieg Maier, Albert Monk) had told me about Basie’s iron rule. Basie once arbitrarily decided the interior of the branch needed painting and that he and the male staff would do it over a week-end. It didn’t matter that they had other plans to visit girlfriends and so on. If Basie said they would have to paint, no-one had the temerity to argue. And paint they all did and no-one painted harder than Basie himself.
Mike thought it would be good for a laugh if he invited all the male members of staff to an “Auditors’ Lunch”. I don’t know if the chaps had visions of fat, juicy steaks somewhere but all were initially non-plussed when they were told to report to Basie’s office. Beforehand, Mike had sent me out for a case of Castles, several cans of viennas, sardines, cheese, sliced cold meat …….. the sort of things you might find at a school boys’ hostel beano. I can’t even recall everything I bought but it was a surprising mix to say the least yet the fellows tucked into the “lunch” with gusto. If anyone in that group thought that auditors were a staid, humorless bunch they sure had their perceptions changed. I wish Mike had done that more often during our travels. Some of those youngsters must surely still recall the lunch hour when they returned to their posts in a really rollicking mood.
I went there again once I was a full auditor and this time Louis Linde was manager. His wife Anita also worked in the branch. (Charming lady) I was a bit taken aback by Louis’ belligerent attitude when I sat down in his office. He scowled at me and really seemed to resent my presence. But his bluff manner I soon discovered, was put on a lot and he was really quite affable once you got to know him. I laughed myself silly when on the second day, I leaned down to get something out of my bag and the entire side of the brand-new wooden chair just peeled away and dumped me on the floor. Louis stormed out of his office with a face like thunder and acidly exclaimed that the bloody auditors were now smashing up his furniture as well as intimidating his staff. It was very funny indeed.
My audit was cut short by my heart suddenly starting to beat irregularly. I stuck it for a day or two and then relented and went to the doctor. I was diagnosed with hypertension and ventricular systoles and referred to a heart specialist. The latter is quite a common condition which is not normally harmful unless an underlying cause is responsible. The specialist ran me on the treadmill but found nothing alarming and to this very day, my old ticker bumbles about, knocking out an irregular beat.
STUTTERHEIM
I can’t believe I nearly forgot about this branch because I rather liked the town and vicinity. I went there when I was on Relief Staff and stayed long enough to join the local library. It rained a lot while I was there but I managed to drive out into the district. In particular I enjoyed driving in the picturesque Kubusi Forests where a spectacular waterfall cascades down right next to the road, flows under a bridge and carries on its cascade lower down the mountainside. It is one of the most beautiful places I’ve ever been to. For years I’ve had this mental picture of a log cabin, deep in a forest, where I could sometimes go and just be on my own. Well, I’ve found the forest but it doesn’t look as if I’ll get round to building that cabin in this lifetime….
The next time I saw Stutterheim it was as an auditor, only this time I moved out some 7 kms to stay at the Eagles Ridge Country House. It had a beautiful, tranquil setting at the edge of the forests, was comfortable and supplied tasty meals. The only drawback was the pine bed with which the first room I occupied was equipped. Sometime during my first night, I turned over in bed and the wood simply gave up the ghost, dumping me on the cold floor. I had to make do with the mattress on the floor which didn’t improve my demeanor much at all. The room they gave me the next day had substantial beds and to my delight a fabulous fireplace, laden with chopped wood, just waiting to be lit. It gets pretty cold in those Amatola Mountains in winter and I could almost see myself in my dream cabin, once I switched off my light and had the glowing logs casting a ruddy, warm glow around the room. I never had that experience anywhere else and would love to have it just once more if I could.
An unusual item on the hotel menu one evening was BORSCHT – beetroot soup. I love beetroot but this is the only time I had it in a soup. It looked rather ominous and lurid in the plate but the taste was sublime and I enjoyed it thoroughly. It just took a moment or two to convince my mind that I wasn’t actually tucking into a plate of blood and then I was “A for away” as the saying goes. It’s highly unlikely that I’ll ever have that on my menu again, unless of course, if I go to Eastern Europe.
THABA ‘NCHU
After auditing Maseru with Bref Edwards, I moved a short distance to Thaba ‘Nchu. The name means Black Mountain and I have always believed the mountain, rearing up from the Free State plains to a height of 2 138 m, to have been a volcano in prehistoric times. However, I’ve just checked the web for confirmation of this belief but found none so that’s probably just an urban legend. Yet I have heard that there is a depression at the top of the mountain which could have been a crater in ages past so I’m reluctant to let go of my “myth” just yet. It does seem odd that this isolated, massive mountain sits out there on the plains, independent of the nearest mountain range, the Malutis. A similar mountain exists in the south of Namibia which is called Mt Brukkaros which really is a prehistoric volcano. It sits out on the plains, just like Thaba ‘Nchu and the shape of the collapsed caldera is clearly visible from afar.
I stayed at home with my old folks during this audit but my Dad took ill and I was forced to take leave in order to help my Mom cope. This means I had very little to do with the audit in reality but many years later I returned to the branch to tackle a special. One of the tellers had a little scheme going: He would take in a deposit, stamp the customer’s copy, pocket the cash and then he’d hide the deposit under his counter. He would wait until a deposit with sufficient cash to cover the initial shortfall came in and use it to put the first deposit through. He would store the second deposit and wait for yet another to come in. So it went – quite modestly at first but snowballing as he grew ever greedier. Eventually there would be a dozen deposits and more covering a previous lot. How he kept track of everything is anyone’s guess but why no-one noticed is equally astounding. Some days, more than a dozen deposits, all with different deposit dates, would be processed. It was a requirement that the date of the tellers’ stamps had to coincide with the deposit dates but the branch never observed the rule. When the police searched the township house where he stayed, a black refuse bag full of deposit slips, cheques and cash was found. I had the unpleasant task of checking and recording the contents of the bag, a process which went on for hours. The eventual loss amounted to more than R50 000 if my memory serves me well but might have amounted to much more had a customer not complained that one of his deposits was not reflected on his statement.
His modus operandi was by no means unique and had been used quite often in past defalcations. It would not have succeeded had a simple (but boring) rule been carried out. I often had young accountants complaining that I was being “petty” when raising exceptions about simple measures like checking deposit dates and I would trot out this example of what could happen when petty seeming rules were flaunted. I suppose things are different today with so many functions being performed by computers but the weak spot in ALL banking procedures is the human factor. Humans get tired, lazy, complacent, bored etc and that’s when the best laid risk controls fail. It’s human to trust your fellow man when you work in close proximity with him but I always said to accountants that the bank paid them to carry out the rules as laid down, not to relax the rules and simply trust other people.
LONG STREET, CAPE TOWN
We were asked to assist the Western Cape team and as we had a bit of slack in our own programme, I took a team down to Long Street. As we had done previously, we based ourselves in the Pinelands Garden Court. I was having trouble walking due to a leg injury and rather than take sick leave, I elected to “lead” the audit from my hotel room so every day my colleagues would bring me their working papers and findings which I would start working into a report. I had Sonja along, as well as my two budgies, Pete and Pecky. (We allowed the little guys the freedom of the bedroom and one morning, when the curtains were wide open, Pete decided to make a break for it and flew slapbang into the large pane of glass. He knocked himself silly and fell to the floor, crying pitifully. I felt very bad about that and thought he was a goner but he recovered and eventually lived to a ripe old age.)
The unconventional audit worked well and I was able to go into the branch for the last few days and finalise the report. Naturally, Sonja was delighted to have a “holiday” at the bank’s expense as our daughter was resident in Cape Town at the time. (In days gone by several auditors were accompanied by their wives and the bank paid for half the hotel charge for the wives, as far as I can recall. I used the dispensation at only one other branch – Bloemfontein – and then only because my wife had to have an operation in Bloemfontein which coincided with the audit)
I was in the midst of my vinyl record collecting days then and a few blocks down from the Garden Court in Rondebosch, was a second hand record shop called Vibes. The shop belonged to Alan Hilton (Brother of Barry Hilton, the comedian) and had a huge stock of secondhand LP records. The shop was simply Mecca to me and I spent many happy hours there flipping through bins of LPs, looking for treasures to add to my substantial collection. All good things come to and end and I ceased collecting vinyl in favour of CDs but I still find it hard to ignore a pile of LPs and itch to see what wonders the pile might contain. Sadly, Alan eventually died of cancer, even as the sun was setting on the demand for LPs.
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