It has long baffled many people out there what men carry in our deep pockets. What is inside a man’s pocket? Is it lemons thrown at him by this cold, cold world? Is it sugar crystals from dipping his hands into a sugar bowl that morning and withdrawing it before anyone, not even his children, could see? Is it a car spare, like an extra set of shock absorbers, to whip out and use in case the car stalls?

Is it those collapsible stools to pull out and use when he walks into an important meeting and there are no seats? Is it a paper with his scribbling about what it would take to get pigs to fly? Is it a keyboard for use with his computer at work? Is it that classic book, The International list of man lies by Sir Olpphurt Green, that he plans to pull out and read when in a sticky situation during the course of the day? Is it ammunition? Is it a bag of money? Is it his phone?

Is it a speech, scribbled hastily onto a dog-eared paper, heralding his new boss and making snarky, backhanded, cleverly-disguised comments about his old boss? Is it lunch packed for him by his loving wife? Is it a boxing glove for use when the conductor tries to make away with his change? Is it all these things and more?

Some of these possibilities seem a bit out there so let us reel them in and stick to stuff you can relate to; stuff you have seen actually come out of your friend, brother, father, uncle’s pocket. What is in a man’s pockets we ask again? Is it plant seeds to throw around on his walk in the city in the hope that a few will find dirt, water, oxygen and a left-over sandwich, feed off them and grow?

Is it an actual, full-grown plant he is carrying around because they produce oxygen (and he really loves him some oxygen)? Is it a foul, say a hen for example, he plans to give to the waiter in a high-end restaurant right after ordering for chicken beronganaise? Is it a mirror to whip out when no one’s looking and straighten every hair? Is it soccer scores and predictions? What is in a guy’s pockets?

Last week, we began a series addressing the slump you are currently in. Psychiatrists world over say you are felling low due to believing you are nowhere close to achieving your new year’s resolutions. I have since had to swim through thousands of letters sent in response. Thanks for all your letters.

I may not be able to individually reply each one because, among other reasons, ripping all of them open will take years. But let me take a sob moment off to say thank you. I’m not sure how you got my post office box number (cough stalkers cough) but no restraining order will be sought. Yet.

The article was about getting you back on track with your resolutions. We focused on how to get back on course to being fit. Do this by lifting your sofas.

Do mud-wrestling. Practical stuff. Today, we look at you if your new year’s resolution was to get a promotion at work.
If you set out to get a promotion this year and your boss has not so much as looked at you twice, save for the time you spilled coffee on very important tender documents, or the time you tripped a visiting chief executive officer, or the time you tipped over the water dispenser while leaning on it, or the time you asked in a meeting whether the company can have a beginning of year party, or the time you run into office screaming “Fire!!” because you were auditioning for a role on what was “The Hostel” back then, don’t lose hope just yet. You can still get the promotion. Given all these things you have done, it will probably be harder than it ought to be but let’s not be naysayers.

To get back on track, for one, if you ever feel the urge to ask a question during a meeting, first whisper it to the person next to you and look very closely at their reaction. If they grimace and or laugh out loud (or by extension they update their status to ‘lol’), then do not raise your hand and ask the rest of the meeting the same question.

Next, be helpful around office. Sweep when everyone leaves. Reply all emails with smilies. Hug everyone after lunch. It is the small things that matter. You will get that promotion

It is that time of the year when we generally feel low. We realise that we are nowhere near attaining many of the goals we set for ourselves at the beginning of the year so our spirits take a dip. This column is here for you. Let’s get you back on track with all your goals.
If you set out to do more exercise at the beginning of the year and you haven’t so much as walked down a flight of stairs, don’t lose hope. You can still do this. Take time off and lift the furniture at home. Carry the sofas from the sitting room to the kitchen and back. Do this every morning right before having a cup of tea. Deny yourself breakfast if you haven’t completed this strenuous but nation-building activity.

Alternatively, you could settle for mud-wrestling as your exercise of choice. On Saturday morning (because a sensible person like myself would never ever suggest that you do mud-wrestling in your going-to-work clothes), call up your friends Jim, Jane, John and June and head out to an open expanse of land.

A soccer pitch could do, say that one next to Kiira Road police station. Using your ingenuity, create two mud patches. Then wrestle! The boys should be in one patch and girls in another. You could have teams so when someone is getting their backside handed to them, they can run out whimpering and tap someone else to jump into the mud and save the situation.

If you are those people who cannot live life offline; the type that whips out their phone, snaps and uploads everything going on in their life, then now is a good time for the columnist to recommend that you take pictures of you and your fellow mud-wrestlers. Take time to get good shots of the gnashing of teeth and grimacing. And the smiles too, if any.

As a side note, please seek permission to use the pitch (or whichever place you and your friends eventually decide to do the wrestling from). This columnist encourages responsible citizenship at all times. Write a formal letter to the Inspector General of Police requesting to use the pitch for mud-wrestling.
Enclose pictures from the internet of pro mud-wrestlers just in case he has a hard time picturing what you, Jim, Jane, John and June are going to be up to.