Running away like Zola

We are smack bang in the middle of the festive season. Even a Martian could read the signals: the overcrowding at the malls and other places of entertainment; the daily newspapers that are suddenly bulging so much you could mistake them for the Yellow Pages.

And they are not overweight because suddenly there's more news; the papers are full of promises by retailers of how much you will save by "spending more this Christmas".

Really? That's as convincing as the DA's strategy of sending Lindiwe Mazibuko to Parliament in an attempt to woo black voters.

And of course there are those large statues of a supersized Father Christmas in a red suit outside every shop. Of course, Santa Claus is here to remind us that it's the most wonderful time of the year. Whatever.

Come on guys, the festive season requires a red alert - and not because of Santa Claus and his deeply unfashionable suit. Recently, the simple act of walking into a store nearly cost me dearly.

I had gone to make my final payment on my clothing account, finally freeing myself of debt. (Yes I do have -or had - a clothing account. Re sokola rotlhe - we are all struggling - as Thebe once sang). My mistake was lingering for too long in the store afterwards, because I was lusting after a red skirt and a matching red jacket.

Suddenly I saw a face in front of me. Its owner was grinning like a Cheshire cat.

A Sales Person. "It looks stunning, doesn't it Ma'am?" At this stage I was no longer focused on him but on defending myself. I suddenly became as alert as a tsotsi eyeing a potential victim; pupils dilated, heart rate rising and legs ready for fight or flight. You see, sales people can be a very dangerous species, especially at this time of year when targets have to be made.

"Do you have an account with us?" inquired the Sales Person. Eish! Tricky question! Think, think, think! If I say yes, he'll insist on telling me about promotions for account holders and if I say no, he'll try to get me to apply for one. So I smile tensely and say: "Can we not do this now bhuti. I'm waiting for someone and he'll be here any minute, no, actually, any second now." Sales Man would have none of it; he persisted, with that grin still plastered on his face. "But this won't take long, Ma'am. We can chat while you wait." Danger bells were ringing in my head. I was seeing the big debt that had taken me a year to pay off. I couldn't do this to myself again.

"No, leave me alone! Please leave me alone, before I regret ever talking to you!" At this stage I was ... let's just say shoppers in the immediate vicinity were beginning to stare. When I saw Sales Person retreat with a nervous smile and his hands up, I turned around and ran in the opposite direction like Zola Budd on her way to smashing the 5000 metre world record in London. Only, I was in high heels.

Once outside I took out the store card from my battered purse and started cutting it into small pieces. At this stage I had the power of Sehanyatha (The Incredible Hulk).

I threw the pieces in the bin, took a deep breath and with one fist in the air I sang out loud "Freedom is coming tomorrow".

I was another step closer to having a good start in 2012.