“This interview..” Derek started with a look of concern on his face. “I wish you all this very best. I know it’s not your first, nor second. This country is not very friendly to people looking to get paid jobs..”
“We keep trying bruh”
“Best of luck bro. I’m off to the office”
Derek, office? The Derek I know cannot stay in one place, or allow himself to be confined to the rules and strict principles of office work. Anyways, wherever he’s going, so far as it is legit and is paying his bills, it’s an office.
“Have a nice day bro”
Derek is not a bad boy, but he likes his freedom, to do what he likes, how and when he wants to do them. He’s a jack of all trade kind of person. He is a blogger, has a chemist shop, sells gas, has people running his transport business for him and so on and so forth. He’s the typical Igbo business man. Igbo people will go as far as the depth of hell to do business so far as it is bringing profit. Sometimes I wished I was born an Igbo.
Well, while on this train of thought the Okada Derek promised he would send horned outside. I carefully checked through my documents. I just hope I get this job this time. Derek had my shirt and trousers professionally dry-cleaned by his personal laundry guy. He had joked that if my credentials didn’t get me the job, my looks definitely would. Derek has been more like a professor of women affairs, a king of the block. If he said I was good looking enough to charm an interviewer, then I have nothing to worry about as far as looks are concerned.
Finally I got to the company office. I heard that the owner was a one time senator, commissioner in the state, and now a personal assistant to one of the most powerful ministers in the federal government. I knew I could go places if I could manage to get a place here. I could win my way through to the top.
I saw a handful of other people standing around the office, carrying files. Most of them were on corporate. But none was dressed up to me. I was dripping with manliness, trust Derek. With my briefcase dangling professionally, I added a swagger to it, none could have suspected I was dropped by an Okada. I could sense the intimidation I was casting on them. Some of the ladies could not hold back their lustful glances. Wait, keep your lust ya’ll!
I didn’t have the time to meet or talk with any one of them as an attendant announced the interview was to commence immediately. We had 40 minutes each.
When it finally got to my turn, I was the 2nd to the last person. I walked into the HR office, weak and a bit hungry. I summoned all that was left of my energy and approached the person at the HR table.
“Welcome to El-sharan group limited..” The voice sounded familiar.
I looked up, just as the same moment my interviewer looked up from the laptop in front of her.
Her eyes widened in surprise. She gathered herself together and motioned me to the seat in front of her.
All of a sudden she started sweating. She had her assistant increase the AC to full blast. Her eyes kept fleeting all over me. I didn’t break a bank to dress for this interview, but I know myself that I am handsome, and my outfit had been specially made for this occasion. Could that be all that was making her uncomfortable? Does it work like that or is it the fact that we had met before?
“May I see your resume?” she said in an unsteady voice.
I handed her the file from the briefcase I had been protectively clutching close to my body. It didn’t take long, and she retuned it to me.
“You’ll hear from us, Mr Odion, Next!”
And that was it, my interview was over.
I was shocked. The other candidates did no less than 35 minutes, and here I was done in less than 15? Or did I do anything wrong?
I could not wrap my head around the reality of this interview. Maybe she feared she might lose face in a formal exchange with me.
As I turned to go, I heard the deep sigh of relief from the desk. Something isn’t right. But who knows?
Now comes the hard part, waiting.
For days I have kept my eyes glued to my email and having skipped heartbeats on every SMS alert and call from unsaved numbers.
Honestly nothing can be as hard as waiting.
Yesterday evening I went with Derek to the Asaba sports club to chill out with his friends after a hard play at Lawn tennis. Most of the people here didn’t know a thing about tennis. Men go places, church, clubs etc, for one thing – to create connections. So Derek told me earlier when I tried to object to going there with him.
When a chicken enters a territory newly, it stands on one leg and observes. So I observed.
Looking at the caliber of men at round the table, I knew Derek was right. Men from House of Reps, senators, commissioners and what have you. Most of them came with young girls leaning on their potbellies.
One old man, in his late 70s caught my attention. He he was acting nothing like his age, and unlike the other men, he came with two girls. Very hot girls in bikinis.
One of the girls had a spectacularly round ass. I couldn’t help feeding my eyes on this new sight. The girl somehow seemed to get this feeling that someone was watching her and turned, to meet my eyes on her lambo. I tried averting my eyes, but it was too late. She caught my eyes, and held the gaze, for an intense moment that seemed to last forever. She was very beautiful, every inch. I swallowed hard.
Then she winked at me. Eureka!
Just then, my phone rang. It was an unsaved number.
“Is this Mr Drake Odion?”, a palatable voice asked sweetly.
“Yes, I am he”
“My name is Angel, I am calling with respect to your interview earlier..”
My heart flew.
“Yee–yesss..?” I muttered.
“Come to the twin towers tomorrow evening, 9:00pm” and the line dropped.
I held my phone in my hands, speechless. I have a situation here.
#Contines next week
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