Of all the auditors I worked with (And there were many) Mike was easily the one I appreciated most as a boss and a friend. I know of no other auditor that was ever as popular as Mike and yet he did not hesitate to criticize shoddy work and attack dishonesty. He maintained that rare balance between being a tough auditor while also being a nice guy. If Mike told you to go to hell, you’d damn well go and enjoy the trip! I will trot out more stories about Mike in due course, but in the meanwhile, to help preserve some of his priceless legacy, I’d like to tell two of Mike’s own stories.
MIKE’S FIRST DAY AT THE AGENCY
Mike had been on the main counter in Vryburg branch for about a week and was starting to settle into the new role, when an unexpected crisis arose. The normal agency teller was taken ill and there was no-one who could be sent out to the agency at Stella, except Mike. There were obstacles though. Mike could not drive the agency vehicle, a large Chev car as he had no driver’s licence so on Monday, Mr Piet Retief, the manager, decided that de Villiers would have to learn to drive AND get his driver’s licence, all in a week in order that he could attend the agency. Mike’s lack of experience was of little consequence as the agency was never busy ….
How Mike achieved the impossible only he would know but by Friday he was able to get behind the wheel of the Chev and set off for Stella. Mike was far more nervous about the drive there, than about actually running the quiet agency - little did he know that there was a major stock sale at Stella on the day and that every farmer in creation would be there.
He was quite chirpy about managing to drive there without any mishap and cheerfully opened the doors for business. Imagine his dismay when there was a veritable deluge of farmers wishing to cash and deposit their cheques. He immediately found himself under immense pressure and as fast as he cleared some customers, more piled in at the back of the queue. He said that he did not have time to write up the waste or put the cash away neatly and just dropped it all onto the floor and was soon ankle deep in paper.
Then the unthinkable happened – his rubber stamp broke! It was one of the small rubber “truncheon” type and the bit with the branch and bank name had pulled loose off the end. To his utter dismay, the only way he could stamp things was by holding the little disc by its edges and dabbing it on the pad. It wasn’t long before his whole white shirt sleeve up to the elbow, was purple.
He struggled on and before long it was closing time and he had to hurry up and head back to Vryburg, but the queue was still out of the door. In desperation and sheer panic, he ordered the cleaner to close the door but he didn’t reckon with the determination of the wily customers who had soon forced open a sash window and kept on coming … through the window. Poor Mike was close to hysterical when the last bloke insisted on seeing him in the little manager’s office. He wanted to discount a bill. Most bank people today have no idea what Bills of Exchange and Bills Discounted were but luckily Mike had recently been on an Inland Bills course and retained a bit of knowledge about the, even then, ultra rare discounted bill.
First thing Mike remembered was that you had to take a balance sheet from the client and he cast about for an appropriate form. All he could find was a Form 117A – which was the form one used AFTER you had got figures from the client, on which you analysed and more realistically valued assets etc. Mike didn’t know this then. He sat the guy down and started filling in figures which the customer was providing. Suddenly Mike caught sight of the writing along the top of the form : NOT TO BE SHOWN TO CUSTOMERS and alarmed, he threw his arm around the form so the client couldn’t see what he was doing. After a while it dawned on him that he was hiding the very information from the customer, which he, the customer, had given. At that moment he decided the bank was insane and he had no business working there.
After gathering up the higgledy piggledy mess of cash and vouchers in the agency canister and making no attempt to balance, a teary Mike got back in the Chev and rushed back to the branch, where Piet Retief, the branch teller and accountant were patiently waiting for him. Before anyone could say a word, Mike threw down all his keys and declared that he had had it with Barclays and was resigning! But bless old Mr Retief – he sat Mike down well, away from the cash to calm down and with the other two blokes set about sorting out, cashing up and balancing. Remarkably, he had balanced to a cent and received a pat on the back instead of the severe censure he expected.
Luckily for all of us who had the privilege and pleasure of knowing Mike, he withdrew his resignation and saw out a fine career in DCO.
MIKE’S MOST EMBARASSING MOMENT
Everyone who knew Mike knew that he was a talented musician and composer and that apart from the piano which was his favourite instrument, he could also play an organ, a saxophone and a guitar. In his early bank career, he spent time at Vryburg branch in which town he formed his own dance band, Mike’s Melody Makers.
Although he died a bachelor, Mike was fond of the ladies and lost his heart quite easily to a pretty face. A very pretty Vryburg lass had caught his eye and he was smitten. But how was he to meet her? Fate presented him with what he decided was a golden opportunity when he had to call on the young lady’s mother, to collect the key to the church hall where his band used to practice. He felt that if he could make a favourable impression on the mother, it would create an opening for him to meet the daughter as well.
Mrs Smith (Not her real name) welcomed Mike hospitably and to his delight, invited him in for a cup of tea. He obviously wanted to make the best impression possible and perched on the end of his chair, never taking his eyes off her face, as she chatted amiably. After a while she put down her cup and took out a cigarette and cast about for a means with which to light it. Mike shot out of his chair like a flash and with a flourish, lit the cigarette for her. She prattled on while Mike once again hung on her every word. He did not want to lose eye contact with her and so backpedalled to his chair, nodding and making all the appropriate noises. When he got to where he judged the chair to be, he sat down. Unfortunately, he was still a good few feet away from his chair and to his horror he found himself falling flat on his backside, swiveling with the momentum onto his back and the last thing he saw was the lounge chandelier neatly framed by his feet up in the air.
Scrambling back to his chair, rather red in the face, he discovered that Mrs Smith had not as much as smiled and in fact was carrying on with her conversation as if nothing had happened. As you can imagine, Mike never recovered his composure and sadly had to try and forget about the young lady. No young ego can easily cope with a blow like that.
But there is a tail to this story. Many years later Mike was back in Vryburg and he made a point of going to see Mrs Smith. He brought the conversation round to that fateful day and asked her if she remembered it and why she had not seen his tumble as funny. She replied, “Michael, I was absolutely dying to laugh, you looked so funny but you were so earnest, I really did not want to hurt your feelings by laughing”.
Mike replied, “Oh Mrs Smith, if ONLY you HAD laughed, if only”
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