AJS’s SURVIVOR WEEKEND

The Great Deception.

A Tale of Alleged “Survival” in the Lap of Luxury…

The internal memo hit our inboxes with the subtle force of a foghorn – “AJS Company-Wide Team Building: The Ultimate Survivor Weekend in Cape Town.” The subject line alone was enough to send a shiver down the spine of anyone whose daily routine involves little more physical exertion than clicking a mouse. The entire AJS family, we were informed, would be flying down to the Mother City to bond through shared adversity. “Camping” and “hiking” were specifically mentioned, words that typically only appear in my life in the context of things to actively avoid.

The collective mood in the office (and with those working at home), shifted from general productivity to a low-grade panic. As someone who has never, not once, spent a night in a tent – by choice or otherwise – the prospect of “roughing it” in the South African wilderness was frankly terrifying.

My comprehensive list of camping fears is extensive and includes but is not limited to – insects of unusual size, the logistical nightmares of al fresco ablutions, the lack of climate control, inadequate Wi-Fi, and the very real possibility of having to use a shovel for its intended, non-gardening purpose, and last but certainly not least, the potential for a very large, aggressive baboon to mistake my sleeping bag for a piñata. I spent the lead-up to the trip subtly researching emergency extraction procedures and whether one could claim a tent-related injury on company medical aid.

Management, it seemed, had a twisted sense of humour. They had us exactly where they wanted us – stressed, preparing for the worst, and mentally drafting our resignation letters over the fear of having to cook over an open flame. We packed our most sensible shoes, a sun hat and our most durable cynicism, ready to face the character-building misery we were sure awaited us on the Cape Peninsula – fully prepared to accept that a hotel minibar with limited options was going to be the least of our worries.

Oh, how delightfully wrong we were.

Upon arriving in Cape Town, the first clue that the “survivor” theme was perhaps a touch hyperbolic was the motorcade of rental cars waiting to ferry us away from the airport. My concerns about which bush would serve as my weekend lavatory began to dissipate. Albeit slowly. The only thing that needed surviving, it quickly became apparent, was the sheer, relentless amount of fun we were about to be “forced” to endure.

“Camping” turned out to be an elaborate, genius-level practical joke perpetrated by a management team who clearly understand that the fastest way to employee loyalty isn’t through shared trauma, but through shared luxury (I could’ve told them that). Our accommodation was not a series of flimsy nylon structures on a rocky outcrop. No. It was the lavish Peninsula Hotel, situated right on the beach, with views of the Atlantic that made you question the very concept of ever closing your curtains.

“Roughing it” translated to cocktails on the deck for an “icebreaker”. A situation where the only real danger was consuming one too many pina coladas before the official welcome speech. This was followed by a spontaneous, enthusiastic karaoke session until the wee hours of the morning, during which several senior executives proved, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that their talents lie strictly within the boardroom and not on the stage. The only wilderness we faced was navigating the complex and overwhelming choices at the breakfast buffet the next morning.

Some brave souls even ventured out at 5am – remember what I said about the 5am club?? To dunk themselves in the ice cold Atlantic Sea. Madness continued.

The “survivor” element of the weekend was, predictably, a magnificent ruse. It smoothly morphed into “The Amazing Race,” a game of clues hidden around the city that required teamwork, navigation, and an alarming willingness to look silly in public places. The application guiding us through this competitive scavenger hunt was, naturally, designed by our very own Chief Operating Officer, Barry Swart. It’s a common and understandable misconception that Barry is merely a handsome, impeccably bald head. As we all discovered, much to our surprise and mild annoyance, he’s also a clever one. The man can run a company and seemingly whip up a fully functional, clue-dispensing application in his spare time. He contains multitudes, apparently, all of which are annoyingly competent.

Saturday night brought the final, glorious assault on our pre-conceived notions of corporate life and what a “team building” exercise should entail. We were instructed to arrive in our “best burlesque-themed outfits,” a dress code that led to a flurry of confused Google searches, a few questionable fashion choices involving excessive amounts of feathers and top hats, and a collective agreement that some things seen in the office cannot be unseen. We found ourselves not in a sterile conference room or a dusty old hall, but at the world-famous Royal Countess Zingara.

The venue was a spectacle of mirrored tents, velvet drapery, and a captivating atmosphere that made you feel like you’d stepped into another world entirely. The entertainment included snake ladies so triple-jointed they made me genuinely worry about their long-term spinal health. It was like the Moulin Rouge, but better – infused with local flair, excellent service, and a complete absence of existential dread about the next morning’s 5 am hike. The party was a blur of laughter, dancing, and a renewed appreciation for a company that knows how to throw a bash that doesn’t involve trust falls or team chants. Thank the Lord.

The entire weekend was a masterclass in executive misdirection. They had us going, completely convinced we were about to commune with nature, build fires with friction, and learn to appreciate the “simple things” like a proper toilet. Instead, we communed with the hotel bar, each other, and an abundance of fine dining.

It was a brilliant, extravagant, and undeniably effective reminder of the AJS spirit – a commitment to its employees (who they treat less like staff and more like slightly dysfunctional, well catered for family), their community, and their clients. The management team’s ability to fool us all in the best possible way was a stroke of genius. Getting employees from every corner of South Africa together in one place to touch base, share a drink, and laugh at the collective trauma of almost camping was, in retrospect, a far more effective team-building exercise than any amount of wilderness survival ever could have been.

We are all genuinely proud to be a part of this team. If this weekend of luxurious deception and unexpected burlesque is any indication of the company’s trajectory, one thing is for certain – 2026 is going to be an incredible year for AJS.

And yes, we are all so here for it. As long as there are absolutely no actual tents involved. Ever.

In the meantime, if you are in need of a service provider who has a proven track record or if you want to find out how to incorporate a new tool into your existing practice management suite – or if you simply want to get started with legal tech – feel free to get in touch with AJS. We have the right combination of systems, resources, and business partnerships to assist you with incorporating supportive legal technology into your practice. Effortlessly.

AJS is always here to help you, wherever and whenever possible!

– Written by Alicia Koch on behalf of AJS