A friend once swore she was going to help me get a job.
Few days after, I received a call from one lady while I was
having my hair washed at a saloon. She told me my friend
spoke to her about me and she requested we meet at a
named 3 star hotel immediately or lose the ‘big
opportunity’ for a job. With my hair still dripping wet, I
dashed home and changed into something decent. As soon
as I got there, someone directed me to the hotel’s garden.
Seated there were 3 guys and a lady. All of them wore a
yellow t-shirt and they were fiddling with a laptop.
Oh, so I’m going to be registering SIM cards for MTN, I
thought.
The first question she asked was if I am a computer literate.
“Yes” I quickly responded.
“Great! I’m actually a HR officer. My client will conduct
the interview herself but I had to meet you first to be sure
I’m recommending the right person..”
“I am the right person ma” I affirmed.
“Are you born again??” She asked.
That question knocked me off my feet.
Judging from that, It was obvious I was going to be an
accountant for Deeper Life Church.
“Yes..I’m born again ma.” I replied trying not to mince
words.
“Beautiful!!” She exclaimed.
“Your interview is going to be at No bla bla bla by 9am on
Saturday…its a new plaza in town. I don’t need to go into
the details of the job but I’m positive you’re going to love
it. Send your CV to bla bla bla mail. Also make copies of
all your credentials and take it along. And pleases do
something about that hair before Saturday. First
impression matters you know.” she added.
End of first interview. I heaved a sigh of relief and left the
hotel.
Friday morning, sickness struck. Headache, fever remixed
with cold and catarrh.
I contemplated between using the little money I had to
make my hair or using the money to buy drugs and LIVE.
“Make your hair, get the job and use your salary to buy a
pharmacy.” The devil commanded.
If I pass the interview, the sickness might disappear out of
excitement, I thought.
The next morning, I was on my way to the interview with
the most painful Ghana braids on my hair. My bad health
was not helping matters.
To be honest, the malaria had me looking like a fairly used
chicken.
I also went with a Ghana must go bag of all my certificates
(except my death certificate) only to realise it was a small
ugly, stuffy bookshop without a standing/ceiling fan to
cool down my temper.
My temper at that point was capable of boiling yam for a
family of 3.
If I had my way, I would have tattooed the meaning of
plaza on the HR forehead. Smh
My potential employer had not arrived yet so I used the
opportunity to peruse the books on a dusty shelf.
A couple of Joyce Meyer books, books on wildlife, one
Daily Manna devotional, Igbo men success stories books,
history books, a couple of encyclopedia, and some other
random boring looking books.
By 9:30, Madam CEO arrived and the interview process
commenced.
She fired me a number of JAMB questions like she was
sent to hire me as an accountant for Aso Rock.
As God would have it, I impressed her.
Then she began her speech…
“This plastic chair you are sitting on is going to be your
office. You are to report from Monday to Saturday and
your job runs from 8am to 6pm.”
Before I could utter, what time will I use to search for a
husband then?
She cut me and continued her cool story.
“You are the customer care representative, office assistant,
and marketer of this place.”
Upon hearing that, I had to peep at the wall mirror to check
whether I have three heads. Does this woman think my
head is 3 in one or what?
She went on…
“You would also assist Lilian, the sales girl in drawing
accounts. Every Wednesday is marketing days. You are to
take some of the books to churches, banks and offices to
sell them. These are nice books so its going to be easy for
you. That should enable you network.”
Wonderful! With this sort of job, my salary should be such
that I would be able to ride a Buggati to my village in 6
months time.
She was not done with me…
As a customer care rep, you have to try to read all the
books in this shop. People will call to request information
about one book or the other that’s why.”
My head harddrive had crashed upon hearing that.
Are you kidding me? Woman, I don’t even read sign board
these days!
I didn’t want to hear more.
“How much is my salary?” I deadpanned
She paced around for a few seconds before dropping the
bombshell.
“Salary is N10000!”
The last time I checked, Nigeria abolished slavery.
I broke into laughter. A laughter of misery and frustration.
To add insult to the injury, she began to yak on how there
are no jobs in Nigeria. In her words “I better accept the
offer. People will kill to have this job.”
Even if I were silly enough to take the shitty job, my
transportation to and fro the bookshop was roughly N8000
a month. Tithe is 1k. Basically, I’ll go home with 1K every
month at my age, stage and relationship status?
Waste of Ghana braids!
I just wanted to loosen my braids there in her office and
force her to swallow the attachment.
“Thank you madam for your offer!” I muttered.
If I had spent an extra minute in there, I would have
probably be tumbling down the book shelves.
I packed what was left of my dignity and sicknesses and
hurried out of her book kiosk.
As for my friend, we’ve not spoken to ourselves since then.
This is dummy text. It is not meant to be read. Accordingly, it is difficult to figure out when to end it. But then, this is dummy text. It is not meant to be read. Period.
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