My friend Albert swears he can charm any woman at the bar, regardless of what he says. One Friday night, I decided to put his confidence to the test. I bet him Kshs. 10,000 that he couldn’t. Albert is the kind of guy who believes there are a million ways to kill a rat. Failure isn’t in his vocabulary. He is proud, almost to a fault, and nothing gets in the way of his ego or ambition.
Every Friday, he’s out drinking no matter the weather; he calls it “eating his money.” Me? Not so much. I prefer the quiet, books, warmth, and sleep. But I do enjoy a good story, and Albert is a walking, talking storybook. Whether it’s village gossip or tales from his recent trip to the Vatican, he has a way of spinning a tale with flair. That night, in between stories about papal politics and his misadventures abroad, he let something more personal slip.
“My mom’s been unwell,” he said. “She’s recovering, but I need someone to watch over her. You know how life in the village is, people are too busy to care.”
“Pole, man,” I said. “Hope she gets better soon.”
“She is recovering from pneumonia,” he added, finishing his third beer. That’s when things took a turn.
We’d been joking around when Albert, half-serious, half-dramatic, said, “If I could just find a fine lady to take home, even from this bar, I’d be a happy man.”
I laughed. “These girls won’t even walk you to the gate. They are out of your league.”
He puffed his chest. “I am the league. I can pick any woman in here, no matter what I say. You want to bet?”
“Absolutely,” I said, barely giving it a thought.
“10k?” he asked.
“10k,” I confirmed. “But let’s help you out. You need a killer line.”
I handed him what I thought was the worst pick-up line imaginable: “Tell her you want to marry her and give her to your mother as a Mother’s Day gift.”
Albert shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. I’ve got this.”
He scanned the bar. His eyes landed on a petite, light-skinned woman with a dazzling smile. She sat alone at the counter, swaying gently to the music in a spaghetti strap top and micro mini. Confident, Albert grabbed his beer and strutted over, easing into what he probably thought was a smooth walk.
“Hello, gorgeous,” he said with a grin. “Can I take you home to my mom as a Mother’s Day surprise? You’d fit right inside my box.”
I nearly choked on my drink. This was going to be good. I was already imagining how to spend my 10k. Maybe take my girlfriend out, Mother’s Day or not.
But what happened next caught me completely off guard. First, she stood up and kissed him. I blinked. My 10k was melting away before my eyes. Then WHACK! She slapped him so hard that I thought the glass might shatter. If not for the nearby table he grabbed for balance, Albert would have hit the floor.
He staggered back toward me, dazed and red-cheeked.
“Too much ambition kills a man,” I said, trying to suppress a grin.
And that’s why I hang out with Albert. You earn just by watching him live.