The office philanderer knows too well where to meet a damsel – the office water dispenser. He pops up, his designer cologne wafting in his trail. When a chic appears for water, he offers to draw it and in the process initiate a sweet natter. Oozing aquatic romance of the ogre and the princess proportion, the little chic is caged.
Then there is this chap I know. He boasts of two five-litre bottles of Keringet. Every evening he fills them on his way home. A wag mused that a bottle is for Sophia, his baibe, and another for him. “He can only bathe with mineral water,” my pal reflects.
This watery corner has made life easier and healthier though – folks freak on the thought of quaffing tap water.
Reasonable machines dispense both hot and cold – though I have one kichwa maji dispenser on Ngong Road that ain’t cool…only gushes hot water – though cute for a coffee junkie of my make. The advanced ones have a tiny cooler box where the office pennywise preserves their lunches.
Small wonder, at the office, the water dispenser has become a shrine. It is the watering hole for everyone to quench thirst – and cut hangover. I have seen folks getting restless almost jittery when they realize that the dispenser is dry.
The hot button becomes popular in the mornings, evenings or during terrible days like the May-weather – It offers quick water for a brew of coffee especially in the pound-foolish facilities that control the intake of caffeine as if Nyeri farmers have stopped toiling and soiling for the berries or those folks in western have abandoned the sweet cane.
And trust me old habits die-hard. In many offices the water dispenser, chat and gossip is commonplace – however fleeting, the small talk just tells you the power of water. The last time I remember, there was a scuffle at the dispenser, well, not because there was no water. No. Two damsels met here, argued over some bloke – like ‘that boy is mine; keep off.” “Nah, the boy is mine…” the next thing someone was on the floor…bwahahah.
Back to business, water peddlers are making a kill supplying tap water from the rivers where the rural folk swim and launder. You see, the chaps are smart. Aware of our psychological inadequacies, they smile all the way to their banks. Even at the Nairobi water company, they use a water dispenser. Not to be outdone is Maji House.
And folks in the office still enjoy tittle-tattle at the dispenser, and well, a lass is also awed by the dispenser – hmmmm… ewamanji@yahoo.co.uk