If ever there was a group of totally unremarkable employees, bank cleaners would stand head and shoulders above the rest. It wasn’t really their fault that they failed to impress as a group because the job definition just never gave much scope for enterprise or initiative. They really had no incentive to do an outstanding job of work and boredom had to have been central to their problems such as alcoholism, truancy and simple dereliction of duty. Almost universally they were sullen, unhappy people who really didn’t like their jobs.
Of course there were exceptions to the rule. Some branches had fellows who were on the ball and were well worth their money. In my travels, I came across only two men who singlehandedly had broken the traditional cleaner mould and turned it into a job to be admired. First was an old man, well into his seventies, who was the cleaner at Ventersdorp. David was his name and as I discovered while looking through the staff files, he had served in the Army during the Second World War. When he brought me my tea one day I casually remarked that I had seen that he had been to War. I was startled when that grey haired old soul threw back his shoulders, leapt to attention and stamped his feet thunderously on the floor and threw a salute out of an army manual. He shouted, “Sgt David Mohafa (Not his real name) no 8235777 at your service, SAH!!!” He had been up North and knew all about Algeria and Tunisia and had seen action. I respectfully shook his hand and thanked him for his service to the country.
That might have been the end of it but I started noticing the spick and span furniture and brasswork in the office, not to mention the shiny clean floors. These were dark parquet floors which did not stay clean for long on the dusty street. Yet when the afternoon session commenced, they would sparkle afresh as David had used his lunch hour to run the polisher around. I thought he’d burst into tears when I suggested it was time for him to retire – he really loved his job and couldn’t stand the thought of having to sit at home and wait to be called to Valhalla.
The next fellow I struck was in the little Eastern Free State town of Warden and his name was Joseph Molefe. Joe made no impression on me until a few days into the audit, when I needed something from the stationery room and the bookroom. I tried the two doors but they were locked and I was surprised to be told I’d have to wait until Joe returned from his deliveries. I was just a little annoyed to have to wait but Joe was as helpful as could be when he got back, quietly sitting me down and asking what it was that I needed. In hushed tones, the two junior ladies informed me that they were not allowed into the bookroom and only Joe could fetch whatever they wanted from there.
I followed him into the bookroom for a look and believe me folks I’ve not been witness to a tidier, better organized or clean bookroom, anywhere else. Asked to give me the current account deposit slips for a certain date, he went unerringly to the immaculately labeled box and produced what I wanted like a magician. It was marvelous and left me speechless with admiration.
I then took closer notice of the state of the furniture, brasswork, windows and floors and though the sandstone building was pretty old, EVERYTHING in that branch shone or sparkled. I took to watching Joe during the day and never once saw him loafing about and NOT polishing or cleaning. I was impressed, I really was and I discussed Joe with Alex Gibson, the manager. Alex told me that Joe was a marathon runner who always took part in the race up the nearby Harrismith Platberg mountain, a cross country run which has daunted and defeated many over the years. I heard that he was also a Comrades veteran and that a manager from a neighbouring branch, also a runner, usually picked him up and took him down with him, to run the Comrades.
Our audit reports at that stage had to be kept short, terse even but I was determined to mention Joe. I wrote’ “Special mention has to be made of the cleaner who produces outstanding work. A humble job carried out with distinction’.
I left Warden and was busy at my next branch when Alex Gibson phoned me and said he had had a phone call from General Management. Neil Swart had phoned to say that he was reading the branch report which was couched in favourable terms but he really wanted to speak to the cleaner. He said “In the history of this bank, no Internal Auditor has ever said anything positive about a cleaner, until now. This must be a very special man and I’d like to speak to him”. Alex said Joe, who was a shy, taciturn fellow hardly said a word in reply as he was quite overcome by the fact that a General Manager would want to talk to him! Mr Swart became aware of his running prowess and arranged for the most expensive running shoes (Nikes or Reebok) available to be sent to Joe in recognition of his fine work.
It was a rare thing for me to be proud of something I had written in an audit report but I’m still proud of the fact that helped Joe see his name in lights at least once in his life. What an absolutely wonderful country we would have if his work ethic and general attitude were universal.
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