Damn you, Mr Bindra!

I met the unhappiest man in the world today.

Sunny Bindra may appreciate this. On my street there is only restaurant that serves a proper meal, but for the fiscally profligate like I am, there is an establishment that is on the Other Side of Haile Selassie Avenue that caters to our fiscally-imposed fearlessness when it comes to pathogens such as salmonella. Anyway, every now and then, when it is not quite possible to patronise the Tin Tin Restaurant or cross the road to the last remaining kibanda on Kenya Railways' land, I find myself at the Nakumatt on Haile Selassie trying to get there just before the last meat pie or chicken pie is snuffled by the hordes of secretaries that descend on the place at one o'clock.

I was used to dealing with Peter. He and I had a connection; even the un-curious me found out that he was being given "management" training. (He insisted on the air quotes; I felt it only right that should he read this that there be quotation marks.) He smiled. He greeted. Sometimes he would apologise if the pies had been missing for some days even if I had been missing for some days. He was a cheerful soul. Half the reason I bought the pies was because he was a charmer and I do not know anyone who wants to be attended to by a sour-puss.

But Peter's training means he will be away for a while. He might not even come back to us. I am stuck with the grouch. I don't know his name. He doesn't seem like the kind you want to strike up a conversation with. He looks terribly unhappy. Twice I have found him in the pastry section and twice now I have reconsidered my dietary habits. (I think it is time I asked Her to take over completely every aspect of my lunch-time fare, by the by.)

That man is not good for the digestion. He is unhelpful. He is slow. He scowls. And he will simply not lift a finger to help. He doesn't care that even by my casual observation, there are more pastries in the counter at 1 pm than there ordinarily should be. I think even the seen-it-all secretarial army doesn't want to deal with him. If Nakumatt Haile Selassie is not careful, their pastry sales may crater simply because of the dark cloud they have put in charge of the pies and muffins. The grouch has put me off my pies completely.

I never actually thought seriously enough about Mr Bindra's words because, well, I am not a manager. Now I can't help but reflect on them all the time and see things in a very different light. Why we don't have a public sanitation infrastructure that we can be proud of. Why we fear our public transport system even while more and more of us rely on it. Why we trust fewer and fewer public servants unless they publicly expiate their sins and reject ostentation. Damn you, Mr Bindra. My ignorance was blissful. Now I have to do something about it. Damn you to hell!

First things first. What's his name and why's he so unhappy?