Today is the first Monday, on the first working day after the first payday of the year. We are also in Africa. January is also the longest month in the history of the calendar and if you, like me, employ staff, you know what to expect on this day. If you don’t know, count yourself lucky. Staff often get robbed on their way to or from work, but sadly they also tend to celebrate payday a bit too heartily and then, well, are not their best when getting to work the next day. But on this glorious day, all the staff arrived, and everyone was on time. Good start. However, dear Blue-eyes, our one gardener ( who by the way, has brown eyes) looked worse than our sickest patient. Clearly, he drank a few toasts to pay-day. I told Blue-eyes to go home, and to come back when he is no longer a danger to my plants.

People often see the results of what we do: happy guests, grateful families, manicured gardens, wonderful recoveries, sparkling pool, dignified passings, crisp white linen and fabulous meals. In order to achieve all these things, you need an army of people who bring a whole arsenal of personalities, challenges and sleepless nights into the mix. And just when you think no HR situation can ever surprise you again, you will realise that, in the words of the songwriter, “you ain’t seen nothing yet”.

Last night (try and follow, it was a Sunday) I was protecting my mental health and not watching Carte Blanche, but was playing a board game with my family. My phone flashed with a message saying: “Kefilwe is here to see you.” Now Kefilwe worked for me many many years ago. She was excellent and worked in the front office. Kefilwe however, did not leave on terribly good terms. It was 19 years ago. I had just given birth to a perfect little pink human, but due to bad planning, my manager had also given birth to a perfect, chocolate brown human, so we were down two wheels. Then, Murphy’s law came to impose itself on us and our other manager was horrendously injured in a car accident and ended up in ICU. A day after the accident, Kefilwe sent a message to say, very nicely: “Just a note to let you know that I am starting a new job this afternoon. Please pay out my savings to my bank account.”

JUST. LIKE.THAT.

There I was, pink bundle attached to me, trying to keep two lodges afloat, and I admit that I harboured a grudge towards Kefilwe with great enthusiasm, blaming her for everything from messy paperwork to bad traffic. I also confess that when she phoned me 5 months later saying things did not work out, asking if she could have her job back, I delighted in telling her “Absolutely not.” So, 19 years passed, and I never heard from her again. Then yesterday, she arrived, dressed beautifully, with an overnight bag. She walked into reception, told the team she would be in the staff room and that she would stay over for the evening to start her shift the next morning. I kid you not. She must have assumed that by now, all these years later, I must be over her desertion and ready to re-employ her. Suffice it to say, she was walked out of the lodge and promptly put into an Uber.

But these two hiccups were not the only issues we had this past week. Phineas told me that our chainsaw went missing. Things go missing, but a chainsaw is not exactly a teacup. Luckily, Phineas also knew where the chainsaw went. Apparently Gospel (yes, I employ a Blue-eyes and a Gospel) took the saw home… a month ago. I was very annoyed, especially as both Phineas and Remember (I know, don’t even ask) have been asking Gospel to bring said saw back. Gospel did message to say he left it in the laundry (I’m sorry, where? Between the flat sheets and the face cloths? It is not like we would not spot the odd chainsaw on the shelf of white linen!) Since our code of conduct and contracts very clearly state that one cannot remove anything (including chainsaws) from the premises without written permission, it was quite easy to follow the disciplinary procedures and Gospel is now no longer part of this team. We’ll miss him, but I’m going to miss my chainsaw more.

I was chatting to Dr Jodi the other day. We were laughing (and if I’m honest, we were also close to tears) about how much time we spend on HR stuff. It is so good to have each other because we can remind one another of our big picture, our vision, our passion to change care in this country. It is incredibly easy to get overwhelmed with the little issues, like a gardener’s babbelas,  but there are also the big, important matters that engulf us because it affects our most treasured asset: our staff. We deal with a vast and never-ending array of issues, like a cleaner whose husband beats her, a carer whose teenage daughter died, a horrible medical diagnosis of a chef and a labourer who’s scared to tell his family he is gay. Our facilities rely completely on human beings, and this harsh continent demands her pound of flesh of us all. If our staff hurt, we all hurt. As much as we care and treasure our patients, we have to do the same for each other, every single day. In our quick stand up meeting each morning, I feel the camaraderie and love amongst us all as we unite to do the work for which we believe we were called.

I suspect there are places in the world where it is easier to run a business, but I cannot imagine for a second that I would want to.