Radical

D plus 5

Abel and Gloria were waiting in line at the PostBank. The queue was so long that they had not even entered the bank yet. They'd been there almost an hour already, and behind them were at least fifteen more people.

When they were almost in the door, a bank employee put up a big sign on the inside of the window, stating that the PostBank would remain open until five that afternoon. There were also directions to two other branches, with a note that said those branches were less busy. Gloria texted their sons to let them know.

An enterprising, well-built young man with dreadlocks had a big cooler box on wheels, from which he was selling cold drinks and ice creams.

"Fanta Orange, please," Abel said, holding out some money. He and Gloria always shared one of those, because it was her favourite. As he was about to get his change, he reconsidered. "And a Coke." His favourite. They were ice-cold and refreshing after the wait in the hot October sun.

"William says he's going to take driving lessons. His shift boss told him that if he gets his driver's licence, they'll promote him to foreman. I'm so glad he's finally settling down," said Gloria, when she'd finished texting.

Their youngest had worried them for years. He hadn't done well at school like the other two, and had then spent a couple of years with a disquieting crowd. When he finally decided to find job, he hadn't struggled much, but he'd promptly gotten a girl pregnant and almost as promptly lost the job.

"We should have known from his vegetable gardens when they were little that he needs to work the soil. Do you remember how angry he was when Moruti parked on his newly-sown carrots?" Abel laughed out loud. "I'm proud that he's proved himself to his company."

Maybe we should save for a car, thought Abel. Gloria could apply for teaching positions at schools further away if she has reliable transport. Maybe she could even work at a school where they don't threaten the teachers who don't want to strike. I'll mention it when we get home.

They waited in the queue, along with all the other atypically patient and quietly exuberant people.

* * *

Mandla and Karel were sitting at Mandla's kitchen table, despite the heat, looking through a fat document. The advertisement had listed a web address where it could be downloaded, but when Mandla confirmed with Rudolph that they wanted in, Rudolph had handed over this copy, from a pile behind the front seat of his larney 4x4, without comment.

"This doesn't look like any tender doc I've ever seen," said Karel, paging through the beginning.

"Ja, and how many have you ever actually seen?" challenged Mandla.

It was true. They couldn't afford subscriptions to tender bulletins, and even when they occasionally heard about something they might be able to do, buying the tender document at hundreds or thousands of rands was seldom possible. They were usually too busy executing the tenders other people had won. Their team was small, but efficient.

"But this one is made to be taken apart and put back together," pointed out Karel.

They paged through the first sections.

"This is weird," pointed Mandla. "You don't need to be an existing business, but you have to give CVs with references of all your people, to prove you can do the work."

"Why do they want bank statements, showing income and wages? Wait, there's a footnote," noticed Karel.

"'A wage gap multiple will be used to prioritise between quotes that score equally high on price and experience', it says here," answered Mandla. "The highest salary, including bonuses and overtime, divided by the lowest salary, for a particular company. What on earth will that do?" Mandla looked at Karel, who shrugged.