Suspension pour monsieur le président


Lundi, 21 août, 19h30, Prévessin-Moëns, terrain de football.

Sur le terrain, un petit groupe de garçons chaussés et habillés correctement, finit l’entrainement sous les déjections verbales d’un groupe d’anciens espoirs déchus, à peine arrivé. Une femme, au bord du terrain, attend son fils. En seulement trois minutes, elle entend les hommes mâcher leurs c…illes sans aucune gêne, à côté d’elle. Hmmm, des hommes qui portent leurs c…illes, pense-t-elle, dommage qu’ils les portent si fièrement dans leurs bouches. Au bord d’une nausée aigue, elle leur demande de rester polis ce qui déclenche l’effet inverse : les quelques hommes broient littéralement leurs parties génitales, toujours dans leurs bouches qui nécessiteraient désormais quelques tonnes de dentifrice à base d’acide chlorhydrique afin de retrouver une propreté humaine, ce qui, à mon humble avis, serait extrêmement difficile. Un d’entre eux prétend être le président de l’association sportive de Prévessin, et continue à parler comme un sous-humain devant elle. ‘J’espère que sa femme l’a quitté depuis longtemps,’ se dit-elle avec horreur. S-agit-il vraiment de monsieur Philippe Timboni, le président de l’association sportive de Prévessin ou d’un usurpateur d’identité ? Parle-t-il de la même manière à ses collègues de l’Union Internationale de la Télécommunication, une organisation internationale de Genève ?

Le fils de la dame en question s’approche pile au moment où ce « brave homme plein de courage devant une femme » lui lance grossièrement « Ferme ta gueule tu me casses les couilles ! ». Le jeune homme, cent-quatre-vingt-huit centimètres bien battis accélère son pas en direction du soi-disant président du club. Ce dernier, de constitution plutôt frêle semble, tout à coup, moins fier de lui et de son langage abject. Le jeune homme lui lance, sur un ton énervé  mais mesuré : « Tu ne parles pas comme ça à ma mère ! ». Le « gentleman » gèle sur place et commence à sentir mauvais. ‘Votre pauvre maman serait mortifiée à  vous entendre parler de la sorte’, ajoute la dame que le « président » et certains de ses compagnons avaient agressée verbalement.

Le garçon, athlétique, sait ce que le respect de soi signifie : il ne se salit ni les mains, ni la bouche, mais il dit au « monsieur » dont le pantalon a dû devenir plus foncé dans la région de ses si vantés testicules (aurait-il oublié sa couche culotte à la maison ?), que c’est la dernière fois qu’il parle de telle façon à sa mère. Le petit… devrais-je dire homme ?, car il ne mérite pas ce compliment, arrive à peine à aligner deux mots. Il s’est humilié lui-même devant ses camarades, qui ne disent plus un mot, et devant des jeunes qui, de toute évidence, ont reçu une bien meilleure éducation.

J’espère seulement que ce personnage n’a aucun contact avec les enfants qui s’entrainent à ce club. Je n’imagine pas leurs parents ravis que leurs enfants soient exposés à un langage aussi vulgaire et grossier.  Avez-vous dit, monsieur Timboni, que vous êtes suisse ? J’en connais de bien meilleurs, ne salissez pas la réputation de vos compatriotes et ne traînez pas dans la boue le milieu sportif que vous prétendez représenter. Nettoyez soigneusement votre bouche et celles de ceux de votre groupe qui portaient si bien leurs c….illes… dans leurs bouches, l’autre soir.

Quant au jeune garçon, ta maman est très fière de toi : à vingt ans tu es bien plus maître de toi-même qu’une personne de cinquante ans censée à donner l’exemple à des jeunes sportifs.

Il ne suffit pas d’avoir des bijoux, qu’ils soient de famille ou pas, faut-il encore savoir les porter avec style et élégance.



What’s the Lesson?


That day, a small, nervous woman was heading to my desk, blindly. She managed to get in front of a long queue in the airport, waiting to be checked-in for a flight to NYC and was able to kill the one who would have dared get in front of her. All of a sudden, she froze half-way staring at me so hateful that I could not but notice her, otherwise, such an insignificant person would have never attracted my attention. An ancestral gut feeling made me recognize her from that distance, in the crowd. Her hatred crossed all barriers of time and space. She was my enemy. A pitiful enemy I didn’t wish to meet ever again. But she was there, at a distance, in front of another desk, spying on me every now and then.

Everything started five years ago. I was working in an organization and her husband was my boss. But before being my boss, he was a friend, well… it’s was I thought. A friend, nothing more. Not interested in him otherwise, not even for a fraction of a second. We used to go for a drink and laugh a lot. He was not a man who could get my attention in any way: a common person, a mousy individual who was craving for attention and affection from any being around him, the pleaser with no personality, no guts. In a word, not my type at all. But he was fun telling stories. We started working together and we happened to get a cup of coffee in the office to talk about work or make fun of different things in the office. Nothing major, nothing nasty, just laughing at some lazy people (so many of them there though) around. Some old spinsters started to be jealous, just out of stupidity and they became good friends because of their imaginary, new enemy: me. Otherwise, they hated each other. I didn’t care. I had nothing to reproach myself, neither professionally, nor socially or morally, just keeping them at a reasonable distance, being professional while doing my job. This made them mad because they had nothing else to do with their time, living more than comfortably in not deserved well-paid jobs. And they started talking bullshit behind my back until one day when one of them, or maybe altogether, wrote an anonymous letter accusing me of having a secret relationship with my boss. Bullshit… But they managed to get his wife on my back and me out of job.

My boss’s wife, a nasty, jealous, unscrupulous woman, phoned me to accuse me of having made her husband in love with me. Interesting, I told her, come and let’s talk, I have nothing to hide and your husband is zillions of miles away from being of interest to me. He’s just a friend, nothing more. She was completely mad and did not want to listen to any reasonable thing I could tell her. I did not insist ‘believe what you want and hurt yourself if this is all you can do, I don’t care.’ She’s a psychologist, God saves her patients.

The story told to me by her husband before this: about twenty years ago, she eloped with another man, leaving him with their two young children. As soon as she realized the new man had far less money than her husband, she came back. He accepted her apologies but never forgot, waiting patiently for the revenge day. Waste of time, in my opinion

The time of the story. For him, this was the perfect, so long expected occasion to take revenge on her and by collateral damage on me, because I was not interested in him more than a friend. ‘I cannot have you, you’ll not be in the job anymore’, must have been his thoughts, I guessed. So that was it. He played the victim in front of his wife who required him to get me out of the organization and block all of my applications in other organizations. As the perfect coward he was, he did what she asked, forgetting all the emails he had sent me from holidays with her: nothing professional. My responses kept on being neutral, colleagues like, which must have irritated him.

The mad woman never had the guts to come and talk to me, but kept writing to me, from time to time, hateful messages, and sent them to my mobile number. The last time, some weeks ago, after five years (!), she sent me another message at about midnight to inform me her husband had had his mobile phone stolen by ‘my compatriots’. Her last sentence: ‘still looking for a job?’ I responded to her in a sarcastic way and informed him about her message, kindly asking him to tell her to stop or I would file a complaint with the police for harassment. Surprisingly, he received the message, or maybe the “new” owners of his phone… ?

And last week, they arrived in my space, the glorious days being gone and so being the business class tickets of the times when he was not retired. I guess I screwed up their holidays: seeing me again and me seeing they were traveling in economy class 😉

I genuinely believe there is a lesson in the story. A lesson I must understand and let go. Jealousy is poison and I will never get how a human being can be ruled by it. But this is not my lesson, I know it isn’t…

Any ideas?

With love,


You Got Friend-Zoned?

You got friend-zoned, or even worse, and you don’t like it. Or she just ignores you because she thinks you don’t care. You wanted it or not, now you’re there and would REALLY like to get out of there and get back your privileged sweetheart place. This is not easy, but not impossible either. Remember the times you left things to slip away because you were not sure about what you wanted, because you didn’t ask the questions you should have asked, or when you jumped on superficial (and even stupid) conclusions and hurried to throw them into her face without even thinking this could hurt and make her step back, ridiculously hoping she was going to prove you the contrary. Or you simply thought (still think…) your pride was much more important than happiness.

What could you do?

Remember what attracted her to you in the first place. Your lovely smile, a nice way of looking at her, little things you’ve done to help her, a few words in a message to show her you think of her. There are lots of things you might have noticed. It’s no guarantee you can still win her heart, but if you really like her, give it a try, it might well work. Or it might not, but it’s worth taking the risk. A sad face, avoiding her, and be caught looking at her when you think she’s not seeing you won’t help AT ALL.  She won’t make a move because she’s already tried and you didn’t want to pay attention. Don’t wait forever if you don’t want to see her flashing a smile to another man or even worse, going out with him.

First, make sure you find out what she likes: going to movies, dancing, going for a drink, going for a walk and talking. And I am not saying you should come straight away with a huge bunch of flowers, or… this is up to you, but this could seem a little over the top.

It’s high time you be the one who knows what you want, you’re not 15 anymore.

Good luck with this, maybe it’s not too late, you cannot know if you don’t try?



Is stress a reason to be Rude? I don’t think so

Yesterday, at the airport, a woman accompanied by four teenagers, at the check-in desk. She literally vomited the ‘good morning’ which seemed to hurt her throat. The customer assistant’s expression said ‘hey, another rude creature, let’s deal with It quickly’. One passenger on the list was missing, so she had to ask if he was not traveling and a reason to be mentioned. ‘Well, he’s not traveling, that’s it’, snapped back the Rude. ‘I have to mention a reason, could you please give me one?’ ‘He’s not coming, I told you’ ‘Well, should we say he’s ill?’ The Rude became red in the face and gritted teeth, ready to explode. The assistant ignored her and went on patiently. Passports were controlled, one after the other, information was input in the computer, luggage was tagged and sent, one after the other. At a moment, the Rude said to the boys next to her ‘Pffff, it takes an eternity’. The assistant looked up and told her ‘Next time, please use the machines at your disposal, you’ll definitely save lots of time’. The Rude took the chance to be even ruder and snapped back ‘Well, you are so disagreeable, you started the day in a bad mood’. ‘My attitude is a reflection of yours, as simple as that’, responded the assistant. The Rude seemed to choke with her own stupid arrogance. I so much liked the assistant’s response. A few minutes ago, I had just heard some passengers saying to her ‘you are really kind, you made my day, I haven’t had such a good service for a while’. I smiled. She gave the deserved answer, she was smart. Hard work to face rude people hiding behind stress. No excuse. These last days the airport was a noisy, overcrowded, hot place one would only want to flee. Yet, there are people who work there, patiently, resiliently, or simply lovely, most of the times for long hours without being able to go and get a glass of water or even go to the toilet. No one is entitled to shed their personal frustration, personal mistakes on them, no one. All you can do is to be polite, nice if you feel like and swallow back your nastiness, nobody needs it.

We are all kindly invited to lock our rudeness back home. It would be very much appreciated. And have a nice flight.

Thanks God there are so many nice people though…

With <3,