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The
17th Steeringwheel
is a German designed Top
Secret set of 17 vital checks & balances, to ensure
that a person may walk away from a near fatal crash. It is not a
formula 1 systems-laden steering wheel, in any sense of the word but
rather, it is about saving yourself from hyper-stress burnout, by
walking away with all your mental faculties intact, avoiding a
complete systems meltdown and able to teach others how to achieve the
same.
Andre' is a man who has a dream. A very ordinary dream, mostly involving watching his granddaughter grow, and spending lots more time with his wife and his co-writer dog Anana, and consuming loads of Biltong (beef jerky) and coffee it's his dream nevertheless:
14.
“For
God speaks once, yea twice, yet man perceives it not.
15.
In a dream, in a vision of the night, when deep sleep falls
upon men,
in slumbering upon the bed;
16.
Then He opens the ears of men, and seals their instruction,
17.
That he may withdraw man from his purpose and hide pride
from
man,
18.
He keeps back his soul from the pit and his life from perishing
by the
sword.”
Job:
33
I
had a very strange dream recently, in it, I dreamed, that I was
required to shoot a film of Lewis Hamilton, the Mercedes formula 1
racing champion, testing a top secret special, German designed
steering wheel called the “17th Steeringwheel.” As I
looked on, members of his crew were preparing a raised area at the
side of an unfamiliar race track, using what seemed like sand,
topped with a white substance like snow.
Hamilton
did a single lap around the track then deliberately bore down at full
throttle on the mound at the road side. As the car struck it, I saw
through the lens of my camera, how the front part of the car
disintegrated and burst into flames.
The
flames quickly engulfed the entire car, which had suddenly become
airborne for a brief moment, then slowly it fell, hitting the mound
of sand. As I watched, with the camera rolling as the mangled
fireball continued careering headlong along the crest of the mound,
Lewis's slightly prostrate figure, was clearly visible through the
sheet of fire and thick black smoke coming from the ruptured fuel
tank underneath and to the back of the cockpit and the smouldering
right front tyre.
As
he sat there, inside the flame engulfed cockpit, I saw his gloved
hands move upwards towards his helmet and holding it firmly in place.
When the mangled and burning wreckage, finally came to rest several
meters along the road. I noticed Lewis slowly stand up inside the
fiery cockpit, remove the steering wheel and jumping out of the now,
fiercely burning wreck, Hamilton was unscathed!
Just
before waking up from the dream, I heard a voice saying:”Watch
carefully, as the steeringwheel has nothing to do with Hamilton
surviving certain death but it is really about the 17 urgent lessons
you learned and applied in your own burning wreck of a life.
Hamilton's crash was simply a parable to show you, the similarity of him sitting inside of what looked to you, to be a fatal car crash from which he couldn’t possible escape and then beating the odds by climbing out unaided and unharmed, just as you had done throughout your life. You need to share those 17 steps you took to climb out of your own burning car wreck of a life...
Hamilton's crash was simply a parable to show you, the similarity of him sitting inside of what looked to you, to be a fatal car crash from which he couldn’t possible escape and then beating the odds by climbing out unaided and unharmed, just as you had done throughout your life. You need to share those 17 steps you took to climb out of your own burning car wreck of a life...
Doomed
to crash and burn, that was on the cards for me, well,
it had been the case until I started to apply the 17 escape elements.
My story is about my wife and I who had been going through what felt
like the umpteenth cyclic crisis in our many years of married life.
It seemed as though our family were like cursed hamsters, doomed to
run on an eternal evil treadmill of mishaps.
Seriously,
at the time, we seemed to live from crisis to crisis most days of our
marriage. Don't get me wrong, my life wasn't all bad, because,
running parallel to and briefly criss crossing our paths
intermittently, was always an undeniable inner force of incredible
goodness always instilling a smidgen of uncanny optimism in the face
of calamity.
It
is like a favourite author, Dave Blanchard , writer of [Today, I
Begin a New Life], wrote, “Dreams don't just happen, success
doesn't just happen. Happiness doesn't just happen. All of these, are
intentionally created.”
A
good place to start my story, is when several years ago, we were
going through a particularly dry spell, I was an insurance salesman
based in a farming community which was experiencing a bad drought and
one by one our branch's clients were cancelling their policies.
In
spite of trying to salvage what business we could , our branch soon
closed down and amalgamated with other divisional branches. I had
started freelancing for several companies but the drought soon seeped
into those businesses as well.
After
toughing the ensuing general business slump, I searched further
afield. I spoke to my friend about marketing my resume' in his town
1000 miles away when he offered me a job in his own company and was
being fetched by him, only to discover, that while we were making our
way there, his business had suffered a mysterious fatal financial
blow, leaving him practically penniless over night and me jobless and
homeless in the same process. I was starting life over, with a total
sum of $40 in my pocket and 1000 miles away from family and
familiar surroundings.
Yet,
that first night we moved into an apartment, less than 200 meters
from his company! It cost me our entire cash reserve of $40 which
the new landlord had attached as a kind of deposit. “Great!”
I thought, “We now had a roof over our heads.”
The
next morning, at the crack of dawn, someone was impatiently banging
on our front door... It was an irate village local complaining about
how his watch needing a battery and him, running late for work
because of it.
I
was about to ask him how on God's earth, his problem had, had
anything to do with me, when it seeped through my foggy brain, that I
owned a sizeable quantity of watch batteries and watchmaker -tools,
packed away in one of my as yet unpacked boxes. “Who sent you to
me?” I asked.
This
only served to infuriate my “client” all the more. “Are you
drunk?” he asked. This was probably a normal form of
salutation, since the town of Roberson was situated slap bang in the
middle of several wine estates of the Western Cape.“No one needs
to send me to you, Braum.” Braum? who the hell was he? I
wondered.
I
started ruffling through the dozens of boxes stacked everywhere.
“Here”, my wife said and handed me the watch repair kit.
“Who told him that you fix watches?” she wanted to know.
“Search me”, I replied, walking hurriedly down the passage
to where the agitated man stood in the doorway.
I
gave the watch a quick lube job, replaced the battery and made my
first $1 That day, several other locals mysteriously
stopped by for various watch adjustments and repairs. At close of
business, I had made the grand total of $10, we now had
electricity a hot bath each and a food for the week and more
importantly, a better than zero shot at surviving this thing!
Robertson
was one of dozens of small towns in the western Cape, dotting the
Boland (High country) region's core industry, wine making. Work of
any kind was virtually non existent or at the very least, had a
serious propensity towards either servicing the farms or supplying of
goods to the proliferation of wine estates.
We
had to survive by our wits and as such, much of the work that did
come along, was grabbed in a heartbeat, the logistics, were largely
sorted on the fly. I recall, that first day, my wife was busy
tirelessly unpacking what seemed like an endless array of boxes and
crates, the sum total of our roller-coaster life together. “I am
bushed,'she exclaimed.
“The
effort has just been too much for me. You won't be seeing me again
before noon.” she remarked. “Good thinking!” I
replied: “Take as long as you like, you’ve earned it
and you'll be needing your strength as I want you to be fully
perceptive and scintillating when we start going over our survival
options in this town.”
Typically,
It was long before noon, when she came into the kitchen where I was
busy repairing several watches, collected that morning. I was still
none the wiser as to whom my mysterious, benefactor, mister Braum
was, where he now was or what had ultimately become of him.
I
was to eventually discover that he had moved to a neighbouring town
50 miles away and that he had done so, about a year before my move
into his rented home in Robertson!
I
felt divinely blessed by his absence. I'm curious though, what the
odds are, that a watchmaker moves out of a house, only to have
another one from a 1000 miles away, move in a year later, to continue
his legacy. Astounding! I thought.
“Braum,
wake up! I must talk to you.” Wake up, man, wake up, are you drunk!
It was one of the native labourers again. Braum must have been a
serious imbiber of fermented grape juice, to be frequently so
addressed. The irate summoner, stood there clutching a yellow
Caterpillar brand shoebox.
“Hey
man, where did you disappear to?” He asked. “I'm sorry?”
I stammered, “I was, um... in hospital with my appendix. I
lied.” “Shit”, he remarked. “Were there
complications?” “Um.., not really.” I replied. “Why do
you ask?” “Do you realize that you have been gone for over a
year?” “I have been running backwards and forwards like a frisky young squirrel on Cocaine, dodging my watch repair customers around every turn.”
“Well,
I'm back and more than ready to start working again.” I
replied. “What do you need?” I asked. “I need for you
to fix these damn watches, and wall clocks, is what I need.” he
replied. And so, Robertson Watchmakers was re-born!
The
really puzzling thing to me, was that no one questioned my apparent
identity change! It was as though I somehow either resembled the
enigmatic mister Braum or maybe it just didn't matter. I continued
delivering my best work, as though my life depended on it, which of
course it did.
I
repaired from the daintiest of ladies watches, Patek Philippe to some large pendulum
grandfather clocks. Such were the standards and business practice I
had set for myself, of perpetual over-delivery, that I was once asked
to service the huge 2 meter town steeple clock which had strangely
missed its “Westminster” noon chime, the day before.
Always
up for a challenge, that was one situation I did not relish for a second. The plan was to begin my ascent up the spire at 1 minute before noon. I had exhausted all possible avenues of escape, having already explained to the town Mayor that I had never tackled a steeple clock before and
would not know where to start. He on the other hand was expecting to
be re-elected and the first stopping of the 100 year old clock while
on his “watch”, just wouldn’t fly.
I
was halfway up the almost vertical spire stairs, counting off the seconds to the
noon chime, just past the halfway mark, I was suddenly greeted by
the deafening noon chime... The old clock was spot-on as always and
matching my super accurate Seiko quartz wristwatch perfectly, quite
literally saving me by the bell, which had mysteriously started
running without any action from me, apart from my prayers. I am not
aware of any other such similar incident anywhere else in the world.
Suffice
it to say, that its start-up caused more than just my own relieved
sigh, that day...
The
saying, that any publicity is good, held true for me that day, for
besides my family and a very nervous mayor, the town's folk were never
quite sure what had gone down that noonday.
I
had parried every probing question like a world class fencing champ in the
days and months that followed. The patter of feet, crossing my
threshold in the wake of that enigmatic day, soon lead to my renting
a tiny room with a shop frontage in the downtown business part of
our village.
My
business neighbour, Jerry, an ex government Telecom technician, had
newly started the first mobile sales and repair company in
town. To supplement my watchmaker business, I took in used household
items for sale, marking up the products by an agreed on percentage.
Fate
again smiled broadly on us one day, as my best customer, Jerry from
the mobile shop next door, came up to where I was busy oiling the
wheels of a gleaming red “Rocket” toy cart. In his hand he held a
Siemens S6 phone. “Andre' old buddy, do you know anything
at all about electronics?” he
asked, holding out the huge 5 inch long phone.
I
remember it as if it were yesterday, and not all of 16 years ago.
Although I didn't know it at the time, it was to be the day, my life
was about to shift into fast forward once again.“I
know a little.” I replied.
fixing electronic watches, clocks as well as the occasional
TV, why?” I asked.
He
explained that he had been sitting the entire morning trying to see
why the phone wouldn’t switch on. His customer was from a
neighbouring town and was picking it up in a few hours time and he
was trying desperately to get that town's mobile business, since
the farming community, from there, usually do the bulk of their
business shopping in the sprawling metropolis of the South African "Mother City", Cape town, 150 miles
away.
This
single job cold change that for him. “Sure,
I said. “I'll give it a go, you may just be missing the
obvious.” Sitting at my work
bench and looking at what was probably the first “modern”
mobile phone I had ever seen up
close. “Lord,” I
prayed, You found it fit for Jerry to bring me this phone
to fix, please guide my hands and eyes to the problem, amen.”
I
soon located the battery release catch and removed the battery from
the phone. I then gingerly, started cleaning the brass battery
terminals and contacts using the fine wire brush from my watch repair
kit and reassembled the phone. Nothing...
“Remove
the battery and look again.” I heard a voice inside my head
say. I looked again and found nothing out of the ordinary and was
about to give it up as a bad job when I noticed, that one of the
battery contacts was bent very slightly out of alignment. As I
assembled the phone once more I just knew it was going to work! I
switched it on and the screen lit up. “Thank you so much Lord.”
I said and got up to return the phone to Jerry.
“So,
did you give up on the phone? He asked, as I walked in. “Nope,”
I said, It's working fine.” He could hardly contain his
joy. “So, what was wrong with it?” he asked: “Oh,
I replied, “I just did a bit of this and a bit of that, is all.”
He immediately handed me three other phones and asked:”Would
you like to give these a quick try, they were brought in by the same out of
town farmer.”
I
managed to get two more repaired, the remaining one had structural
damage and I later learned, that the farmer had accidentally run over
it with his John Deere combine harvester.
That
day Jerry was beaming, as he handed me a sizeable wadd of cash. “Not
only, was the farmer going to send his town's folks to us, he was also
notifying friends and family in other neighbouring towns as well.
Within
a few days, the farmer arrived at Jerry's shop, he had stayed true to his word, Jerry and I were suddenly
inundated with broken mobile phones, new phone purchases and loads of
watch repairs and sales for me .
One
afternoon, while I was working late, getting a batch of watches and
phones ready for collection the next day. Jerry came in, he had an unusually worried look on his face. “Andre', he said.
“I've been doing some serious thinking, he said. "why don't you become my business partner?”
For starters, we would be saving on the rent and besides, we both
know, that you brought that certain“magic touch” to my business."
”
Thank you”, I said.
But, I will have to decline your generous offer, since you invested
1000's in your shop and I don't have any cash to buy into it. I
said. He replied, saying:“I have been taught all about Ohm's
law, resistors, transistors, stuff like that, spending several
years learning about all of that, and the one thing I just don't
have, is that “gut feel” you regularly rely on.
I accepted and Jerry's
Lawyer drew up the partnership agreement which included that he would
finance the partnership and my part was to bring my watch/cellphone
repair expertise to the table.
Robertson
Communications soon reached micro—iconic status in the Boland
region and regularly appeared in local business newspapers.
Things
were going great for us, business wise,
except
for one niggling thing, Jerry who was an occasional drinker when I
first met him, was upping the drinking and entertainment pace and soon, I had to make weekly
trips to a local brandy distiller to buy Jerry's 12 bottle case of
the best.
His drinking started clashing with our business as
customers were returning shoddy work, stock orders weren't placed on
time and Jerry was involved with a young, out of town woman which
crippled his marriage, ending in a sordid divorce.
Even
my watch customers chose to take their business to the competition. I
frequently spoke about the dwindling business and that we had a good
thing going which we could rekindle if we set our minds to it.
Mercifully,
one day, Jerry approached me suggesting we part our ways and that we
should do a 50% split which I declined settling for only a 10% share
of stock and no goodwill.
I was focusing on the two up and
coming mobile service providers not covered by his business licence
and my watch business. I also suggested, I start up on the opposite side of town and after a cordial
handshake, the business was resolved.
$20,000
FROM HEAVEN
I managed to find a tiny
shop in a recently built mall and was busy scrubbing down some stained floor
tiles, while my wife and our kids were washing down the walls and
windows. As I scrubbed away, I became aware of a pair of bare feet
next to me. I looked up at the person standing there motionless. “Can
I help you?” I asked. “Are you enjoying what you’re
doing?” He asked.
It
was 40°Celsius
and
there was no ventilation, I thought. “Yes
it's amazing work,
I replied. “You
should try it.” I
remarked, and continued scrubbing the tiles. I was completely
gob-smacked when he picked up a scrubbing brush and started scrubbing
away at a nearby stain.
On hands and knees, we
scrubbed away for about 5 minutes, in total silence, when suddenly he
threw down the brush and stood up. “This is a pot of crap kind
of job!” he remarked. “Why are you doing this anyway?" he asked. I told him briefly what had happened and that I wanted to
start up a mobile/watch repair and sales service.
Reaching for a pack of
cigarettes in his shirt pocket, he asked:”Mind if I smoke?” he
asked. “Not at all, I replied, but mind if we step outside
please”. I said, and went outside.
Nothing on earth could ever
have prepared me for what happened next!
“See that video shop”,
he asked as he pointed to the nearby familiar Robertson landmark
called “Vee's Videos”. I said that I did and with a serious
expression and looking directly at me, he asked: “Would you like
to own it?” The shop was a local landmark. I
thought, the guy has to be a nut case! “Yes, thank you, and
while we are at it, why not throw in the anchor store as well, I remarked jokingly. "I'm dead serious, it has become a liability to me
through fraud and gross mismanagement and I need someone to turn it
around fast, can you do it?"
Wow! I thought, who the hell
is this guy anyway? “I reckon I can!” I replied
confidently. “Well, that's settled then.” he replied “You
must go and see this guy in Worcester, before noon today” he said.“offer him $20,000 for the business”. “$20,000!”
I stammered. “Man I'm sure the price is great, but I don't even
own $20 right now. I replied.
Just then he took a check
book from his shirt pocket, started filling it out and handing it to me, asked what my name was. “I'm Andre' Hartslief.”
I replied, offering my hand. “Altus Malherbe,” he replied as he shook my hand firmly.
He walked into the shop where my wife and kids were still busy
cleaning, and one by one he smilingly shook hands with each one and
left.
It took a few moments for
everything to sink into my brain before I could start to explain what
had actually gone down in the preceding few minutes. In my hand was a
cash check for $20,000. I flipped it over and scrutinized the back of
it.
There was a name and address
of a person in the town of Worcester 45 kilometres away, as well as a
telephone number. Glancing at the default check usage instructions, I
read:”This check guarantees to pay the bearer, any amount stipulated!
It was the real deal! In the
space of 10 minutes, I had been handed a guaranteed cash check from a
complete stranger for $20,000 to buy a large video shop!
After arriving at the
Worcester address which Altus had written on the back of the check,
It turned out to be an Attorney tasked with the sale of Vee's Videos
in Robertson.
After getting over his initial indignation of me
arriving at his door without an appointment, and with the critical
time constraints, as I had minutes to spare, in stopping the impending
12 pm. Auction.
The second shock, was about
my cash offer of $20,000 which as it turned out was only about a
third of the value of the business. “What's that you said there?
The lawyer wanted to know. “I said, that I'm offering you $20,000 for the shop.” “The shelving alone costs $30,000,
there are 3400 titles, 10 video players 90 active contracts, I cannot
accept your offer under any circumstances, period.” he sternly
replied.
“Well, maybe you can't
accept an offer from me, I remarked:”but what if Altus
Malherbe is offering the $20,000?” I asked. The blood drained
noticeably from his face at the mention of Altus' name.
He picked up his phone,
hastily dialled a number while carefully scrutinizing the check I had handed
him. After a brief exchange of words with the person on the other
end, in what took less than 5 minutes, I was the proud new owner of
Vee's Videos.
When he handed me the title
deeds to sign, I asked him:”Who exactly is this Altus Malherbe
anyhow?” There were a few more facial tics and rolling
eyeballs before he answered:”You mean to say, that you don't
even know him?" He asked.
“That's right,” I said.”I
only met him a few hours ago.” “But that's so out of character
for him, I have known him for 25 years and he has never done anything
like this, ever.
” He paused briefly then continued, saying:
“Altus Malherbe owns this office building we are sitting in and
several shopping malls, dotted around the western Cape, including the
one your new business is in, then there are 2 wine estates and a fruit
farm he owns as well.”
The video business had grown by
leaps and bounds, giving us a good life for several years when, with my kids all grown up
and having gone their separate ways and with the advent of the DVD
era, it was becoming hard to keep up with the weekly new releases, nothing kills a video shop, like old stock does.
Video shops throughout South
Africa were either closing down or being replaced by DVD shops in
droves. I had kept Altus in the loop throughout our association and
he said that several Video shops in his malls were going the same
route. He suggested I gear up for DVD's or consider selling.
In all this time, Altus had regularly popped in for a chat and a light lunch and spent many hours
of his time with us, making many incredibly innovative suggestions, often gleaned from the video shop tenants in his other malls.
I recall one such
suggestion, was to advertise a pack of free instant soup to enjoy
with a video in the cold rainy Cape winters. Free soup remained a
winner for many years. At other times we ran free off season family holiday specials,
free Easter eggs or a free Valentine rose with a romantic movie . The
list was endless and more importantly they delivered results.
Throughout this time we were
covering our rent from the proceeds of the shop and lived a good
life. Every time I asked Altus about drawing up an agreement to repay
the $20,000 loan, he would say:”Buy stock, we'll talk about that
later.”
One day a young man arrived
from out of town and by the way he was sizing up the business, moving
from the video shelves then to the watch display and on to the mobile
phone display, I just knew he was up to something other than shopping
for a product.
I walked up to him and
introduced myself . It turned out, that he was visiting his parents
in the neighbouring town of Riviersonderend (Endless river) and that
he was working on the railroad in Kwazulu Natal where I hailed
from. His hobby was watch and cellphone repair!
He ended up making us a
generous offer which we accepted as my wife and I both wanted to
return to Durban, where most of our family and friends were living.
The day I went to Altus Malherbe to settle up, I had no idea what figure he was expecting as
repayment for the loan. My wife and I both agreed that we would pay
whatever he wanted because of his benevolence throughout the past
years.
At his Lawyer's office, while we waited for Altus to arrive,
I asked the Lawyer what the figure was and he replied that he had
drawn up an estimate which turned out be a whole lot more than I had
expected.
Just then Altus walked in,
his usual jovial self: “So, Andre' my friend, you're leaving
Robertson! he said. I confirmed this and said that my family owe
him a huge debt of gratitude and that surely there could not be many
others like him in the world.
He simply shrugged this off
by saying that he inherited one distinct quality from his late dad
which was that he was a pretty good judge of character and had surely
not been wrong in my case.
After reminiscing about our
association, I finally asked him what I owed him. He asked me, what
the amount was that he had lent me and I said $20,000 to which he
replied:”So there, that's it.” Puzzled, I asked:"But
what are you saying Altus?”
He looked genuinely
surprised: “Unless you want to hang on to the $20,000 until you
have settled in Durban, $20,000 is what I will accept.”
Suddenly his Lawyer interjected, saying:”But Altus I have drawn
up a more realistic settlement figure I am certain, mister Hartslief
won't object to paying.” “On whose authority did you draw
it up?” He asked. “Oh, I just thought it standard practice
to do so.
” Well”, said
Altus: “I'm the dog and you're the tail, I wag you, not the
other way around, get your secretary to write out a receipt for
mister Hartslief for $20,000, marked paid in full!”
And so ended a remarkable
and unique friendship based on mutual trust and also an association
with my most unforgettable character. I never heard from my enigmatic
benefactor again but in my heart there is a very special place for my
dear friend Altus Malherbe from Robertson.
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