Justice Denied

Chapter 8

Chapter 8

The turn in Everhaas’ career had come back in 1977, after a particularly heavy night of drinking with his mates at a local bar in Cape Town, he had gone to work the following day with a massive, babbelas, a hangover, and if truth be known, he was still a little drunk.

Although he wasn’t a bad accountant, by anyone’s standards, he did suffer from constant derision and torment by his supervisor and nemesis, Mike Van De Hoes, which, as a consequence, tended to adversely affect the amounts of beer he would consume almost nightly.

Mike Van De Hoes; now there was a man who could hold a grudge forever and he had never taken a liking to his junior since the younger man had joined the firm a couple of years back straight from University.

Van De Hoes, 45 years old, wasn’t a big man, no more than 5ft 6”, but his voice carried and since he had found out that Everhaas had be seeing his now ex-girlfriend behind his back, he was determined to seize every opportunity to undermine, humiliate and generally punish his junior.

He didn’t have the direct power to fire Everhaas and really he didn’t want the junior accountant to go, because to fire him would get him out from Van De Hoes’ clutches.

But he knew how to make the younger man’s life miserable and that’s what he wanted.

In private, he would walk behind Everhaas in the gents’ restroom and explain to him how he was going to make him pay that day for his indiscretion, all in a bright cheery matter of fact way, that would just make Everhaas close his eyes and wish for the day to end.

In public he would deride everything and anything Everhaas had to say and criticize his work constantly to anyone that was in earshot.

In short he was Maurice Everhaas’ waking nightmare.

Everhaas arrived at his desk that morning via the office canteen where he made himself a particularly strong coffee and availed himself a quick swig from a small hip flask of vodka he carried for emergencies just like this.

“As always you look like shit, you moegoe.” Said Van De Hoes and he leaned over behind Everhaas, using the Afrikaans word for a simpleton.

“I want those Dulci Bakeries accounts finished before you go tonight or it’s your arse.”

“Ok, ya,” answered Everhaas not even looking up, more out of the rising feeling of sickness than disrespect for his supervisor.

“Ag man,” added Van De Hoes for effect, wrinkling his nose in disgust, “and you smell like a kraal!” he said loudly, looking up to make sure there were others in earshot.

At this, Everhaas could not resist a retort,

“Well, your sexy little kitten must have liked the kraal, ‘cause she couldn’t get enough of mine, ne!”

Everyone around them in the open plan office stopped to look at what was going on and as he saw he had been embarrassed by the younger man, Van De Hoes’ face turned crimson and he let out a wail of, “Ya fooker!”, as he lost control and jumped on Everhaas’ back and pinned him face down on the desk as he punched him repeatedly.

But Everhaas dwarfed him by a good 4 inches and about 20 pounds and he turned around easily to push him away.

“Mike, I’m sorry for that!” he said quickly.

“Now stop this before one of us gets hurt.” He blurted, holding up his hands palms out in a sort of surrender pose and backing away slowly away from the supervisor, trying to restore a moment of sanity and create some space between them if his supervisor wouldn’t calm down.