It was half past seven when Thabisa got to the station and waited for the twenty-to-eight train. But the train didn’t pitch. She sat there and soon started panicking and pacing. The last thing she needed was to be late, again. She had already gotten a verbal warning form Ntando.

Ntando refused to understand that such things happened, as if he had never taken public transport before. And it didn’t help Thabisa one bit that she had miss goody-two-shoes, Tamara, as a colleague. Tamara was a privileged prima donna who never showed up late. Her boyfriend always dropped her off at a quarter to eight.

“You see, Thabisa, to get ahead in life you need to be hungry for success. Be a go-getter, like Tamara,” Ntando had said the first time he called her in for a warning. But he just hadn’t understood that the train drivers were on strike; something totally out of her control.

“But we make our own destiny,” Ntando had said, and there were “no excuses”.

That is why at the age of thirty he had his own advertising and marketing company. It was small, but it allowed him the privilege of coming and going as he pleased, without having to report to anybody. It bought him a nice GTI Sport that he liked more than his employees. He lived in an apartment in Claremont, paying rent that Thabisa wouldn’t even dream of. He was his own man, and his employees were his golden geese. They made him the money and he spent it. That was the law of the universe: you want it badly enough then you have to make it yours.

“Trains running late again?” Tamara said while eating muesli at her desk.

“Metrorail, what can you do?” Thabisa said, keeping her voice low and walking to her desk. She didn’t want Ntando to know she was fifteen minutes late.

“You’re lucky Ntando isn’t here, otherwise you’d be in shit,” Tamara said, scooping more cereal from her bowl.

“Yeah, you don’t say,” Thabisa voiced her frustration out loud. But the sarcasm was lost on Tamara.

“Yeah, I do say. You’ve been late a lot. Why do you bother with trains when you can get a man to drive you around?” she said, getting up to wash her dish in the tiny office kitchen. Thabisa rolled her eyes as Tamara’s heels clicked on the tiled floor.

Thabisa wasted no time; she got on the phone and started dialling clients. By the time Tamara got back Thabisa was already securing a deal. This day was starting off well, she thought as she said her goodbyes to the client and hung up.

Her moment of victory didn’t last long. Ntando walked in and summoned them to his office.

“Ladies, ladies, sit down,” he said swinging side to side in his leather office chair. The young boss had style and liked to show it. “I’ve just had an exciting meeting that will definitely put us on the map,” he continued, smiling. He hardly ever smiled so this had to be good.

“I’m investing in a car for the business. Instead of wasting time sitting here, we’re going to expand our capacity and ‘take the advertising to Mohamed’,” he said with his arms spread out wide.

“Oh nice. Who is Mohamed?” Tamara said with a giggle. Thabisa couldn’t believe the girl; she must be already seeing a potential flirt on the horizon.

“No, no dear, it’s a figure of sp–… never mind.” Ntando said getting up and walking around to their side of the table. “I need you girls to be out there – meeting with the clients face-to-face and pitching their ideal ad.” He was now sitting on the corner of the table by Tamara’s side. “Who has a driver’s license?” he asked, looking at Tamara.

Both young women shook their heads.

“If you want to stay ahead you need to think proactively. The first one to get a license will be the one who does the pitches. That means there are incentives: travelling allowance, a big bonus – the works!”

“That sounds great, Mr R. I’ll get that license in no time,” Tamara said, blinking her eyes rather too many times.

“That’s the spirit, Tammy. Now why are you still sitting here? The clients aren’t going to call themselves you know!” Ntando said, dismissing them.

Thabisa decided to take a walk during lunch. They weren’t allowed to take lunch at the same time so Tamara always went first. That left Thabisa with enough time to try and close deals with as many clients as she could squeeze in an hour. Working alone in peace and quiet was always productive for her.

When she got back Tamara was sitting on her desk talking on the phone. Her desk was facing away from the door so she didn’t see Thabisa, or hear her when she walked in.

“Are you versin? I don’t have time to waste on taking lessons. Besides, Jay will teach me anything I need to know about driving. It’s not rocket science,” she said to the person on the other end. After a short pause she laughed. “Yeah, that job is as good as mine. I’ll have the license in two weeks, tops.”

She must have heard Thabisa’s footsteps as she crossed the room trying to listen to more of the conversation. She ended the call abruptly. “’Kay, babe, gotta go. The mice in this building like to eavesdrop,” she said, giving Thabisa a nasty once-over. “See you tonight at the party,” and then she hung up.

So the race was on.

Tamara was already getting on to it and Thabisa had no money for even those driving lessons that Tamara didn’t want to take.

But wait a minute – if Tamara wasn’t planning on taking lessons then how the hell did she plan on getting the license? Jay? Thabisa didn’t like this. And why was Tamara suddenly cagey when she saw her? What was she up to?

Whatever it was, Thabisa needed to get there first. But where would she get the money before month-end to book for a learner’s and some lessons? She needed a plan fast.

* * *

Tell us what you think: What is Tamara up to? Are formal driving lessons a must for getting licence?