Sometimes I wish I just wasn’t so honest

Sometimes I wish I just wasn’t so honest. Sometimes I wish I dreamt up selling mince at R488/kg, or rainsuits at R17 000 each.

That’s how ANC Ekurhuleni treasurer-general Sello Sekhokho’s companies made nearly R100 million off the Gauteng health department. Socks for Tokyo Sexwale Primary School worth R294 000; 17 V-neck jerseys for R196 000 (R11 500 per jersey) – the list goes on…

And the fishy payments were all less than R500 000, so the hospital CEO could sign off on the contracts, instead of it going out to tender. Easy money. And you don’t even have to cook the mince.

READ MORE: Boerewors and boots among R100m contracts ANC treasurer scored from Gauteng hospitals

But call it my Cyril moment: honest me would’ve stepped aside after the sale of the first kilo. It’s not scruples or morals, just plain honesty that won’t allow most of us to inappropriately misappropriate. Damn, we don’t even cheat the taxman.

But this old dog was taught a new trick about her “honesty” fanfare this week: don’t be honest in the moment. The old adage is true: the truth hurts. Especially if you speak it in the moment.

I’m cynically sipping a glass or two, listening to the young man telling me how he went to the opening night of his friend’s play.

“It was awful. Really bad. And afterwards she met us in the foyer, glowing in her costume, with a ‘What did you think?’

“I knew I would crush her with my honesty – but I just can’t lie, so I chose: ‘I am so pleased I could share this night with you. It was great to see you up on stage.’”

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She kept on glowing and he kept his integrity “but I did tell her the next day what I thought of the play”.

A wise boss once said: “If you have to review someone’s work and had to put in a lot of effort, by all means write your report – but don’t send it to the bosses. Read it again the next morning when you’re not so angry and frustrated and you’ll be amazed to see how you’ll tone it down. Still the truth, but it won’t hurt so much.”

It’s year-end and nerves are raw; tempers flay – but the honest Virgo in me won’t shoot from the hip any more. And I’ll show my true colours by avoiding the aisle with the mince. For the moment.