Sitting ON my writing desk in the living room, I would like to say I am watching the breathtaking view of sunrise. I am not. I am staring at the ike anobi mosque opposite my house, trying to use the laws of attraction to damage their loudspeakers beforehand. I have failed. The "Allahu Akhbars" have begun.
After navigating past my lustful thoughts about Ryan Gosling and Haagen Daaz ice cream to the dank corners of my mind and back, I remained uninspired. So I fell back on the golden rule of social media : over sharing.Here's a tale from the adventures of hapygypsy, written in more characters than status updates will allow. Maybe a little embellished, but then again that's why you watch reality tv.
Ask and.......OH SHOOT! YOU ACTUALLY MIGHT BE GIVEN!
Few days to the end of last year I woke up in a mid life crisis. Passing out from youth service was in February and I had this vision of myself : home and jobless and pretending to write but unable to because I was too broke to buy a Biro because it had been two months without #19,800. My bobo had dumped me because I could no longer afford the perfume I'd told him was my natural scent and was always stealing money from his discarded clothes.
Project that a few months further and its not a stretch to when I start accosting people on the road, telling them I just needed money to get home and crossing to the other side of the road for fresh prey a là that guy at Obalende. I moved like a robot to my iPad and began tapping the broken screen maniacally, searching for vacancies.
Two hours and multiple applications later,the fever broke and I was back to my hole ridden pajamas wearing slobby self. My family was relieved. But the past always catches up with us. Early this January I received a call inviting me for an interview the next day. The call came in late and I was sleeping over at a friend's that day. Suddenly I was feeling queasy and throwing up.I couldn't even remember what post I'd applied for, only that the range of vacancies I'd applied for was from astronaut to 'leaflet distribution intern' (I assure you that is an actual thing.)
The bobo came to pluck me and take me home early in the morning. He told me how great I would do and all the other things he is mandated to say while I said 'don't flatter me' and 'please go on' when he stopped. The mother helped me find the one pair of coordinating corporate clothes i possessed. I grabbed the briefcase I'd only bought because it was such a nice shade of brown leather and was Italian. Transformation complete. I got to the reception a few minutes early and tried to snoop around to find out what post I'd applied for. Finally I settled for that of the very confident guy sitting next to me.
I entered the room when it was my turn and was asked what job I'd applied for. It felt like Frank Edoho's hotseat. I got it wrong of course, but decided to go with it and be interviewed for that post anyway. After managing to answer a few questions without sounding like a total retard, they remarked on how utterly unimpressive my CV was, as compared to talking to me. I explained that it was put together hastily in my midlife crisis while assuring them I was okay now.
Then I was asked how much I wanted to earn and when I replied, I thought my interviewer was having a coronary. I reminded myself I wasn't talking to birthday candles and shortened my throat, but the damage was done. I left there with a drawing my fellow interviewee and newest friend had done of me when we were in the reception. At least I would have this narcissistic reminder of how I would be jobless for life, I thought.
Tuesday this week, I was sifting through my mail when I saw an offer of employment in my box. I regarded it as spam, knowing if I called the number someone would probably ask me to pay 9k into someone's account so I could secure the job, a la Michael who was supposedly my classmate at FRCN and had gotten me a job at Shell(I almost gawked that one sha). However I received a call the next day asking why i had not responded to my mail. I barely kept from blurting "are we joking here"
Having accepted the offer and set to resume to Thursday, I took a look at my hippy/misfit wardrobe and the fretting started, for worry abhors a vacuum. What should I wear on my first day, cause you know you don't want to look like the office slut, or granny, or the blonde one who thinks work is about showing off her latest shoes, how wide my smile should be when I'm being introduced, cause you don't wanna look too eager and easy to bully, or stuck up........ this just got real.
Please drop your comments about the drudgery of the corporate world etc like the cult I interviewed for last week, which I would tell you about later. Now I must stop, for "virtue has gone out of me".