Chapter 1: Hot Slap for Corporate Lagos

Headhunted to a new company, and just in my second week, dem tell me say my labour contract don end.

The blow land me like hot slap, sharp-sharp. Sweat dey my forehead, hand dey shake. I just dey look space like mumu. Na so I siddon for my small office, breeze just dey blow me for face like say e wan carry my spirit go. Wetin I go tell my wife now? E still dey be like film for my eye.

HR no even bother to pretend:

“We no ever plan keep you. Na just Chairman Ifedike we dey help.” HR wave hand like say she dey chase fly. “Abeg, pack your things sharp-sharp, make you no block corridor.”

No formality, no sugarcoating. E talk am like say na small market gist. My body cold, but I bone. For Lagos, if dem dey use you do chess, better shine your eye.

Chairman Ifedike—my former oga. I follow am work for over ten years.

This man na person wey, if im call you for meeting by 8am, you go reach office by 7. If him cough, everybody dey rush buy Strepsils. I don run with am through thick and thin; e pain me as I remember how we start.

Sometimes after work for night, we go siddon eat suya by candlelight inside that small office, dey share pure water as fuel finish for gen. Dem kind memories dey sweet and pain at the same time.

I no even fit believe say na set up, just so he no go pay me compensation.

E resemble all those Nollywood films where paddy set paddy up, but this one pain me pass because na real life. The betrayal dey bite me for chest like pepper.

But he miscalculate. I go make sure say he pay for am.

Me wey dey carry last? Lai lai. Even if e wan use style finish me, I still get small sense left. Na Naija we dey. Person wey dem think say dem don finish sometimes go turn the whole table upside down.