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I choose my career
It was one of those mornings you wished you could sleep in and suddenly realised that it’s a Monday and you have a 7:00am meeting with a presentation. The alarm rings, and in an attempt to put it off, I catch a glimpse of the time. It’s 5.30am. That must have been an error. I was sure I set it for 5.00am. I make a quick dash to the bathroom and out in a record 7 minutes. I wear my suits, grab my shoes and bag an additional 5 minutes. Hair, makeup, and all others would be done in the cab. BJ is currently on his annual leave so I use a Taxi cab in the morning and at the close of work, I join any colleague going my way.
My phone buzzes, it’s the cab driver. I dash out of the house on a sprint to the Estate gate. Taxi cabs are not allowed into the estate. I am lucky to make it to the meeting at 6.55am.
“Phew! That was very close”, I mutter to myself as I take my seat beside Peju.
“Girl what happened to you? You look scattered”, she says.
“Ore, I woke up late, dreamt I was dining in the white house with George W. Bush and did not want that dream to end” I tease.
She chuckles and said reverting to Pidgin English, “gist dey after the meeting.
We ease off on our chit-chat as the moderator starts the meeting.
My presentation went well. Luckily there were more pressing issues that morning than the need to scrutinize my report. As soon as the meeting was over I was with Peju. Once Peju says there is gist be sure it is hot and sizzling gossip.
“So girlfriend, what is the gist?” I walk beside her as we leave the meeting venue. Peju laughs, “you and this your ears for Kwongosa, I know you won’t rest till you have heard it all.”
“Spill jo, don’t make me beg,” I said.
“We are leaving for Chief Bola Idowu’s office this morning. He called me last night to pick up a six-figure cheque.” “Woop!”I shout. I throw my hands in the air, do a jig and turn around. I see colleagues starring but who cares.
“Shhh,” Peju gestures placing are her index finger over her lips. “I don’t want to let the cat out of the bag till we have brought the cheque in.”
Chief Idowu is a very good friend of one of my uncles and I had dropped his name for Peju in one of our meetings. I just never thought he would.
“Wow! Peju, I should have gone there myself o!” I say to her. She hisses, “Who do you think has the account. Me?” she asks.
“Yes, it’s you, he called,” I answered.
“Girlfriend, he is your uncle’s friend. It’s your account,” she says.
I am dumbfounded. In this, our job of dog chop dog, I never saw it coming. I gave her the name because she needed two more names on her list to make ten prospects as I already had my ten.
I say to Peju, “I am really touched and I know you are my friend but take it.You went to him I doubt if I would have gone.”
“Are you sure?” She asked.
I say to her, “Girl, you must be crazy to think of giving me.”
“Hmmm, Lana, I am only wise to know that before Maple Bank you and I were and after Maple Bank, you and I will be. I can’t allow a simple account to come between us.”
I place my hand on my chest over my heart and roll my eyes dramatically, “This is so touching.”
“Get out”, Peju says giggling and playfully shoving me forward.
Unfortunately, yours truly missed a step and fell flat in front of the Boss.
The hardliner never ever smiling boss. It was like if he did smile his face would crack or something terrible would happen. Between Peju and I, we nicknamed him Buffalo.
“Ladies, is this the right place for this sort of behaviour?” his voice thundered.
Peju with a remorse face says, “No sir,” She is trying hard to stifle her giggle as the look of me sprawled on the floor before the boss was hilarious.
“You could take your lack of seriousness out of here. If you put as little as half the effort you put into your giggling to your work, the Bank’s bottom line would be smiling.”
Looking down at me, “And you, see me in my office for that your report,” he barked.
Oh now, I certainly would kill Peju for this. I give her a look of “you are gunner girl, you got me into this you either get me out or you would pay for this.”
Peju steps in, “Sir, Please can Lana see you later for the report, we have been called by one of the prospects we submitted the last week to pick up a cheque.”He asked us to come before 9.00am this morning.”
I looked at her, oh girl you have just bitten the lion’s tail.
“How much is this cheque we are talking about?” he asks with a look of disdain.
“N100, 000,000 sir”, she says with a straight face like she was calling a Five Naira note.
“And you are still here?” he barked, “leave this minute and don’t come back here without that cheque.”
I was up from my feet now and we both scramble away from his presence.
“I thought you wanted it as a surprise?” I asked her.
“Yes, I did but you and I know you won’t be out of that office for the next two hours, from making tea to writing and reviewing one memo or the other. I had to do something. Not with the way you were shooting daggers with your eyes. It was clear, I was a gunner.”
“Chief Idowu had better keep his word”. I say to her laughing. “Or else Buffalo will so knock you down you will forget your name.”
We both go to the ladies to work on our makeup and appearance before setting out.
On our way to Chief’s office, my phone rings. I ignore it.
Peju looks at me. “Pick up your phone girl.”
I shook my head. I did not feel up to it this morning. Ever since I started work with the bank, my uncle calls me every Monday morning under the guise of checking up on me. The call always ended the same way. “Lana remember the family you came from, never compromise your values for a career”.
I was not up to his call this morning, so l let the phone ring enjoying the Lagbaja’s all hit Konko below I used as a ring tone.
Uncle Sege is my favourite uncle and I am his favourite niece. I remember his prayers when I bought him the Paco Rabanne 1 Million Cologne with my first pay. The prayers were heaven bound and the counsel top grade with marriage first on the agenda.
“Ehen, what about that your friend who was calling you three Christmases ago?” He asked.
“I really liked that young man. He seems very sensible and responsible.” He concluded. I lied through my teeth that he was fine.
The Christmas, Uncle Sege was referring to was the one I spent with his family the year I graduated from University. My parents chose that year to go to the village and I decided to stay back but they insisted I moved over to my Uncle’s place rather than be home alone.
Uncle Sege, as we fondly call him is the youngest of my Father’s four siblings. He is a modern man. He is what I call updated. There is no latest music or film show he’s not knowledgeable off. He was one never to miss the AY comedy show since it started. “Uncle mi to bad,” we dare not speak our slangs in his presence, he would decode. We all loved, respected and feared him. He was easy to talk to, fun to be with and generous to a fault. He spoilt all his nephews and nieces without exception but I was sure I was top on the list.
If you loved Uncle Sege, wait until you met his wife, Auntie Bimba. She is an epitome of loveliness. Auntie Bimba is not the usual robust Yoruba women you come across as aunties. She is modern, updated like her husband. Growing up, she was the only Aunt I knew in my large family who would turn up in Jeans or an English outfit for family functions. There were always snickers and comments by my other Aunts but either she heard or she just did not care enough to bother. We, the young ones felt she was the coolest of all the Aunts. She was also a Barrister like my Uncle.
Uncle Sege always joked that he never wanted to be on the other team when Auntie Bimba was prosecuting. He would joke many times that he stepped down at home so that the day they ever had to be on opposing sides in court, she would remember his love and devotion. Aunt Bimba, would shake her head and say to him laughing, “Not in your life”. We all knew and saw how much how much they both loved each other. Uncle Sege was the only man to kiss his wife full on the mouth in our family meetings much to the chagrin of the other women.
I once heard Auntie Kemi, the wife to Uncle Kunle who was second to the youngest of my father’s siblings, saying, “Did they not leave the house together, so why the public display of affection? They are corrupting the younger ones”.
I could swear that Auntie Kemi wouldn’t have minded if her husband had done the same. I think I did see a look of longing in her eyes, but it was gone in a flash.
Aunt Bimba was neither robust nor slim. She is about a size 12 for her small frame. She was dark in complexion, a full mouth that was always in mulberry shade lipstick, perhaps one of the reasons why Uncle Sege could not stop kissing her, beautiful cat shaped eyes, the kind that would put Cleopatra of Egypt to shame, a cute nose that was neither pointed nor round and her short well permed and styled hair. She had everything put together that my other aunts would have wanted. A good career, a nice body that did not require the gym, dieting, or jaw locking, good looks and an adoring husband.
The young man Uncle Sege had been referring to was Bode Coker. My first love. Bode and I met on campus. I still remember that day like yesterday. The day started like any other Thursday in June. It was a special fellowship programme termed love feast where food and drinks were shared, and different people come up the stage to share words of inspiration and encouragement in special songs, drama presentation, and comedy. It was one of those events that drew crowds on campus without a barrier to your race, department, ideology or belief. We both were on the committee for this programme and had worked hard to make it the successful one it turned out to be.
Due to behind the scenes logistics, I came in late enough to be ushered to a seat. The guy at the entrance of the hall welcoming everyone in was definitely the most handsome guy I had ever laid eyes on. I recall smiling and saying to myself, “That’s one handsome guy there, wait till I get back to my room to gist the other girls.”
We had engaged in a discussion earlier in the week as to who was a handsome guy and started calling names. I just kept saying “Nah! No!! Nope!!!” That night, they came to the conclusion, my definition for handsomeness was out of this world.
It must have been a divine encounter for my eyes to be opened to see him in a light that would make him stand out that day. This was because we had both been in this fellowship and faculty for three years and I never noticed the face. We were on the same committee for three weeks planning a programme, and if I had passed him along the road, I still would not have recognised him. He was just any other face but on this day, he stood out.
I did not get see him again till sometimes in July. I stopped a cab in town heading for the campus, and he was already in the cab. He said, “Hello,” and because I knew the face, although I still did not know his name. I said, “Hi,”and got into a conversation and we introduced ourselves.
We got to the campus, he paid my fare and walked me to my hostel. I was an undergraduate but staying in the postgraduate hall. A room of two people turned to a room of four. He stopped at the entrance of the hostel and wished me a good evening. I could swear, I fell in love with him that very moment. The norm was to ask for your room number and offer to come visit.
We began running into each other frequently. We fast became friends as we realised we had mutual friends and activities. He had a group of two other guys and they were fondly called the three musketeers. I had dealings with the other two guys not knowing all three were connected. They were all a year ahead of me with just some few months to leave. Those moments were one of the best memories of campus. These guys were incredible and fun to be with. They left school the following year for their national youth service. The first month was terrible. I missed them as everywhere and everything reminded me of them. I could not remember how my life was before they came in.
The days went by and I settled into the routine of lectures, getting my project ready and fellowship.
One day, three months after they had left, I was in a stationery store that also served as a call center. Students paid to either make or receive calls. I heard the name Bode Coker over the phone, without so much of a please excuse me I grabbed the phone from the attendant and I am like, “Hey you, this is Lana. What a coincidence I am here”. I was too excited and firing questions if he had heard from the other two, where he got to work and how the work was going.
I remembered my manners, “Wow! Sorry, please, who did you want to speak to?”
He said he called to speak with me.
I was surprised. “How could you have known that I would be here?”
“I took a risk,” He answered.
“Wow! That is sure some risk” I replied.
He asked if it was okay to call me regularly and I said, “No Bode. It would be nice but I don’t want to send the wrong signals”.
“Okay,” he said and asked me to say hi to some other people and the call ended.
Bode was a cool guy. A perfect gentleman, I fondly called him but I never gave myself the luxury that he would seek me out. I had this image of the kind of girl who he would go out with and that image did not come close to mine. We were great friends and it would stay that way.
It was that Christmas I spent at Uncle Sege’s place that we were both constantly on the phone. During one of our conversation, he told me he had a surprise for me. I love giving surprises but could not stand receiving any. I was curious and asked him to spill it.
He said, “Never,” that he would bring the surprise in January when he came to Campus. Immediately I don’t know why I had this fear but I asked, “I hope you are not spending all that hours on the road to come and see my face, there must be something else bringing you.”
“My fingers are crossed, just wait and see when I come.” He said laughing.
He came the third weekend in January. I was away for a friend’s wedding in town and came back in the evening. I was told by my roommates and they were smiling mischievously.
“Bode was here, he said he would check back at 7pm.”
“What?” I asked, looking at them suspiciously.
“Nothing,” they both said bursting into laughter.
“You tell us,” Toke said.
We heard a knock on the door and since I was still standing by the door, I was the one to open. I smiled when I saw him.
“Surprise,” I say as I allow him to come in. I excused myself to change into comfortable blue jeans and a yellow top from my earlier Buba and Iro with gele.
“Did she not look like a bride just know?” Toke was asking Bode when I came in.
“I am here o! Please don’t talk about me as if I am not here,” I said.
“Yes, she did, and that’s what you guys will be doing from graduation”. Bode continued only acknowledging me with a smile that sent butterflies in my stomach. I was sure it must be something I ate at the party.
“How’s Bayo?” he asks Toke. “He is fine I should speak to him this evening.”
“Please do send my regards,” Bode said.
Toke and Bayo had been an item since our first semester 300 level. I was the chief teaser. How Toke took all my teasing was just a wonder but I was sure I could not take a quarter of the fun I had at her expense.
We left together to go out and Toke whispered into my ears, “I am waiting here”. Whatever she meant I had no clue but I was going to have a great evening, which I promised myself. It was not every day a friend from out of town came to see you.
That evening outside the student union building under the dark cloud with white specks of shining stars we talked about everything, the service year, his new place of assignment, his family, hopes dreams aspirations. It was a talk like you probably won’t see each other again and that was the reality. We probably won’t see each other after now. I was soon to graduate to be posted to any of the thirty-six states in the country…………..
All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to people living or dead is purely coincidental.
Kwongosa – A slang for hot gist
Buba and Iro – The traditional yoruba attire
Gele – The traditional yoruba headgear
kirikiri runs
It was the last day of the induction training at one of the prestigious Financial Institutions and an excursion had been fixed. It was to be a surprise. Hopefully, we should be going to the office of the Central Bank.
Cladded in a two-piece navy blue suit with a white frilly shirt and turquoise blue scarf designed in the logo of the financial Institution. A Gucci bag and a nameless pure leather stiletto shoe my sister had bought from Paris, the year before. Nameless- because it’s not any of the known designer brands you are familiar. A tiny white pearl earring on my ears with a Rolex watch I technically borrowed from my Mom, her 50th birthday gift from my Dad. I use the word technically borrowed because I took it without her express permission and that cannot be classified as stealing I hope. I am no thief, honest, truthful and transparent.
My kinky African hair perfectly combed and oiled with Adi Agbon – coconut oil I bought from Iya Risikat down the road. I love to think that in her local extraction she has failed to add chemicals and any other additives used in the ones at the Superstores. Now we all know the noise on coconut oil for skin and hair care. Be sure I have been using it for decades thanks to my sister and her numerous beauty regiment.
Taking a last look at the mirror, tells me I am armed for the day. Off I go to wait for BJ at my Estate gate. BJ is a senior colleague at work who lives on my street. Ever since I saw him one weekend around my area. I was not shy the next Monday to ask if I could join him to the office and back. A good idea because I got to save on transport fare, reduce the number of times I get late to work due to a broken down bus and other associated mishaps with going on a bus. Like the day, I was coming down from the bus and got my jacket torn as it got hooked on the door or other days when my suit is all wrinkled and I am looking scattered before getting to work resulting in an extra thirty minutes in the ladies doing repair work to hair, makeup and clothes. Most days the buses could be so hot that I am practically soaked with sweat before the day’s work began adding to my cost on deodorant and perfumes.
I arrived at the training center, which is a huge white building in the shape of a dome, the front is all glass and I love the effect it has on the inside sending in a light that brightens not only the room but your spirit. The reception unit is made with dark mahogany in the form of a live fallen oak tree but designed into a table. I place my staff Identity card on the sensor unit on the wall beside the hall entrance.The door opens and the first person I see is Peju Phillips.
She is quick to tell me our excursion is to Kirikiri Maximum Security Prisons. You mean the whole trouble I went through to get ready was for the Prisons! I’m scowling and harrumphing in disgust. My friend Peju, is having fun at my expense.
“Lana, who knows you might snag a husband there”. I am looking at her like she’s gone bonkers. “This one wey you dress like say na Aso Rock you dey go, you for tone down small now”, she changes to pidgin English.
“The way you dress is the way you will be addressed. Looking good is good business”. I retorted back.
“You sure are looking good today for KIRIKIRI.” She said laughing and holding her sides. I eyed her with the death sentence look.
“They’re calling us to go into the bus, MISS KIRIKIRI – you have won the pageant for the day”. Peju whispered into my ears as she walked away laughing.
I am not one to go about looks but I was no fool not to realise that God had extra favoured me in that department. However, I might be a sight for sore eyes but Peju Phillips would hold a room full of a thousand people to a standstill. I could not light a candle beside her but she was always ahhing and oohing how I looked and dressed. What girl won’t love a girlfriend like that? For whatever reason she meant me today and the earlier I gathered my act together and shrug her comments off, the faster she would lose interest and look for someone else’s life to make miserable.
We filed into to the air-conditioned bus which pulled out of the training center and headed to the Mainland. It was a smooth uneventful ride with the usual traffic. I enjoyed the banter going on with other colleagues. I am seated beside the class clown who has just shared a joke that sent us laughing hysterically. There was never a dull moment with my set when we were not taking lectures or going over our study notes for the continuous test being meted during the eight weeks course, we were catching our fun to the fullest. I am not the proverbial clown but do have a lot as friends who I adore unabashedly. I do love a good laugh, who doesn’t.
I think that’s why we are the most resilient people on earth. How we are able to see a joke even in our pain, see hope when all looks hopeless. We believe “e go better”. The thought to commit suicide does not come close. Unfortunately, it is that same resilience we have, that is also applied when a public officer who has failed to perform refuses to resign. “Resign ke?” Nope, we will stay put and address the issue.
The journey was over before I felt it began. We arrived at the KIRIKIRI Prisons. I had never been there prior to this day. I know it is a notorious prison and where Fela Anikulapo – Kuti, the late Nigerian Afrobeat musician and human right activist was incinerated at a time.
We were greeted by one of the prisons staffs who introduced himself as our guide. I wished I had not taken the pains to dress up for this outing. I remove the borrowed Rolex and slipped it into a small compartment in my handbag. No way would I risk that getting lost while on this tour. “You would not be going in with your handbags, phones or any other instruments please leave them behind. You would also be searched. It’s the procedure”. Our guide went on to inform us.
We went through their cave like sleeping quarters which required you to bend to go in. The walls were well marked and dirty. The beds were iron double bunk beds with several mattresses stacked on the top and lower bunk. The floor had a telltale of once being concrete but now sandy. Nevertheless, I was impressed on how neat the rooms were amidst the dirt and oh the stench! Although, this might have been due to our visit.
Then we were then taken to another room, a classroom with desks and benches serving as chairs. There were about four students on each desk with scanty notebooks that had about five sheets. A teacher whose English was impeccable stood at the front of the class beside a blackboard with some mathematics sums on it.
It was surprising to know he was also a prisoner. Some of my colleagues engaged him and we found out he was knowledgeable and current. What neither of us asked, was why he was there.
Our guide informed us that people from all works of life were here in that prison. He boasted that the smartest brains were here. I do not know how he came to that conclusion but it was depressing.
I was intrigued by the look of the prisoners, they all had this black soot complexion. My first question as I wondered aloud. The guide did not seem to give a satisfactory answer but I came to the conclusion that taking a bath was a luxury here. Oh! how we take for granted, simple soap and water.The excursion came to an end after about an hour of moving around the prison facility I was the first to be out, glad to inhale fresh air. Hmm! another luxury I took for granted.
As a parting note, our guide told us that as young people starting our career, we should see ourselves as wealth custodians and the wealth a working tool. The day we began to see that wealth in our custody as something we could use or take out from for ourselves, that we would be taking our first step back there not for an excursion but behind bars.
For weeks, I had nightmares from this encounter waking up soaked in sweat. Perhaps in another country I would have opted for a shrink and sued my employer millions of dollars for psychological trauma but since I was a Naija babe, a passionate God lover who goes to church and knows her identity in Christ Jesus. I had to use prayers and deal with it. Best to say I got over it after six months.
So why the choice to work here? At age 15, I knew I wanted work in the Financial Industry. I had this very nice neighbor who happened to be the only person I know in the industry at that time. Growing up, I was surrounded by Teachers, Doctors, Nurses, and Professors, very noble and prestigious professions but I guess I was looking for something different out of the norm and status quo. I remember my Father saying it’s Doctor for Sciences and Lawyer for Arts. Like every other teenager who feels his or her ideas are the best. I told him that was what I wanted to do and my mind was made up. He made sure I studied sciences with further mathematics, I made sure I took the only social science subject allowed in pure science class.
Getting this job was a dream come true. The neighbor who inspired this profession tried talking me out of it when she learnt I had been offered this job.She said, “The Financial institutions are the highest employer of labour but that the stress on the job is on red alert. Young men and women dropping dead from heart attack, the impact on the children where both parents work in similar institutions. The risk on the job although is as high as its returns but it might not be worth it in the long run.
I smiled, “Auntie, don’t worry this is what I want to do”. What I never told her was she was the one who inspired this career choice. And as far as I could see she had done well, with her kids, husband and family life. So I could do the same and do better.
This is the 21st century, women must work and find a balance. It is the challenge of our times. We can’t go back to the 17th century we must and would find a way around it and make it work. Either you work as an employee, employer, entrepreneur or for charity. You need to find something to do and stay relevant.
Needless to say, I chose this. The best thing any of us can do for ourselves is to remember we will only live once. To be honest with ourselves and chart our own career or life mission playing to our strength. Take risks if we can. For those who have strength purpose and stamina to carry on a certain type of career, do so shining. To others who clearly realise that this might be a wrong choice, seek other alternatives. Whatever the choice is as a woman you have to be doing something. It’s simply just us being who we are – women.
All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to people living or dead is purely coincidental.
Omo washe omo rishe – You seek work and you found it.
Every woman wants to be beautiful, feel loved and appreciated. The 21st-century woman is both lucky and unfortunate to have existed. She is arrayed with unlimited choices sometimes used to her detriment. If chosen wisely to her advantage, She is her own best friend and enemy. She is creative and destructive. She is as many times good and bad simultaneously. She could be anything and is what she has decided to be and show the world.
A woman can be loved, desired and admired or shunned and hated, a society’s outcast. Whichever of this situation she finds herself, she still presents a bold, fearless, feisty and confident personality. Still, to her inner – self, the one no one sees, closed and shut away by dark curtains of past or experiences that plagues taunts, and waltz with her insecurities.
Not until she comes to that place of acceptance of who she was, is and will become, would she cease to struggle with the demons on the inside while smiling for the world to celebrate her. She is a tale of two different women yet the same person.
The 21st-century belle is a beautiful girl or woman who is confident and at peace with her looks, her achievement and the people she meets along life’s journey. Aspiring higher and conquering obstacles, being the best she can be, and enjoying every moment of her life.
I am excited to start this journey of mine as I share my thoughts and stories that would make you, laugh, cry as you identify with these beautiful characters.
Our lives may or may not make headlines on the tabloids or become a reality TV show. Still, each life is connected to another life with ripple effects we can’t imagine. We live, we love and love connects all the dots. We add laughter and luxury in the mix. We dream until it becomes our reality. It is simply just us being who we are – women.
21stcenturybelle 