My goons told me of how my corper girlfriend back in Asaba was twerking to the zip of another…..but i had other concerns, like having even one mail responded to.
“Come back”, said Sir Chiemeke, “there is always rice at home”.
I preferred to stick to Indomie devoid of eggs, if it meant that i would remain in Gidi.
I ventured out one afternoon to meet up with a Facebook friend who claimed that she had read all my works, reckoning without the gridlock. I spent two hours between Ikate and Bonny Camp.
Well at least she cooked good food. The expansion of my gut that evening did not however translate to a thicker wallet. Days became weeks, and interviews i aced evolved into employment letters for girlfriends of legislator’s sons, or IJGBs with Masters Degrees. I could not afford a hair cut, and the girl who worked at the cyber cafe responded to my calls each time with “who’s this? “
Friends stopped picking calls too, and likes on fancy Facebook stories failed to cancel out the uncertainty.
One Wednesday, i walked the whole of Broad Street. It was like the car winners at that Oprah episode; every law office got a CV (never mind that wrapping suya was a possible fate of the paper)
Onyeka began to ask questions. The girls stopped calling, leaving the nights to drown me in freezing glory.
I began to look around city walls for inscriptions like “sugar mummy in need of services, call 080********”. My shoes lost their shine
“Jerry come back, there’s no shame”, read my father’s texts. I knew better.
Wizkid’s “Ojuelegba” was on repeat every day, and when I met a cute girl on a bus after another day of job hunting, i’d lie that i worked at an office at CMS. I became more active on LinkedIn, adding up all the managing partners of top law firms, and then sliding into their email inboxes with my CV. they were either unimpressed, or too busy.
The girl who worked the chemist store ignored my calls….but I saw the dude who helped dispose garbage, getting all cozy with a lady of Ghana-esque complexion. Life, indeed, was no Caucasian.
I ran into an old crush whom i once serenaded with a blog post. I was still jobless, so her response was predictable.
One Thursday, a long search on LinkedIn led to one email address, which led to another email address, which ultimately led to the office mail of a firm in Ikoyi. My cover letter was acknowledged minutes later. There would be a test and interview the next day.
Onyeka and I made a wager: if within a week i still had not got a job, i would return to Asaba.
The following day, I got my first employment letter in Lagos, after three hours and five sections of complicated tests.
The salary was 60,000, but there is this saying about beggars and choices.
“You got 69% in the detect-the-errors section. We are looking for much better, your score was low”
This remark made by the managing partner should have been a sign of things to come, but at least i had won the wager.