The Power of One (or two,) bars of chocolate

Finally,
at the cost of two bars of chocolate, I got my police report, which
means that SOPAC can now claim insurance and buy me a new laptop.

I have been dropping by the police post regularly for over a month, asking if the report was ready yet.  Before I went to NZ I dropped by to tell them of my intended absence, gave them some bikkies, and suggested I might bring some chocolate back with me.  I hoped it might be an incentive. 

Yesterday morning, following an intimation from the day before that my report actually would be there, I called in at the post before I went to work (and after the LTA man came to inspect the bike).  After a brief search ConstableM said she had the report ready but could not find it.  I gave her a bar of choc anyway.  That evening, after dark, I heard my name being called from outside my stalag walls.  Opening the gate I found SergeantS with a piece of paper in his hand.  It was he to whom I had "promised" the choc before I flew to NZ.   I wonder if he shared the biscuits?

His first words were "Where’s my chocolate?" then he explained he had taken the report home with him to be sure it would get to me. 

I fetched out another Whittaker’s Almond Slab and Gifts were exchanged with a handshake. 

"Set". as we say in Fiji. 


Advertisements

About Alan

Settling into my 7th decade and still determined not to grow up too soon.
This entry was posted in Life, don't talk to me about life!. Bookmark the permalink.

Please comment!

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s