"And you, Mr. [INSERT NAME]", he turned, eyes raging with the fury of an incensed heavyweight boxer. "This is how you decided to screw us up on the day we lost revenue. You love working in silos. So you went and worked in silos and killed the service".
He then started a poetic tirade that made him sound like the male version of an angry Rafeef Ziadah as the rest of us struggled to stifle temporary urinary incontinence.
A long afternoon was in the offing.
That 25-Square-meter cabin suddenly felt like a high-school headmaster’s office as deathly silence filled the air. One by one, the grilling went on like he was addressing a troop of adventurous juveniles who had sneaked out of school to watch an adult movie. These, usually, are the moments when you get home and you are tempted to look downstairs when the kids call you daddy.
Not too long ago, you had been the toast of an characteristically cordial meeting that had peers eat out of your hand. You were the Don Data in that MTN advert, drowning in a wavy sea of corporate euphoria. A six-week transformation has since turned you into a pantomime villain.
Six weeks ago, everybody wanted to be you. Today, you all wish you were Marcos, the lone survivor of that two-hour horror show; because a calculated retreat by way of an office day-off saved his brushes. So you die in your movie and Marcos returns the following day to do a post-mortem on your ego.
Your woes are not over as Murphy’s law does what Murphy’s law does on the day your gods join the opposition. For the next 27 days, your retirement begins at 11 PM when the world is sleeping and the only food you can find on your way home is Zalwango's roadside chips, fried in sizzling transformer oil (they say it causes a dozen NCDs – diabetes, hypertension, kidney failure, DVT, road rage et cetera).
Three weeks later, you are a massive 9 Kilos heavier. At 91, you suddenly look like your boss’ boss when you go for the same meeting. Neighbors think you got a bigger job. The househelp thinks you are richer. But you still won’t quit because for your case, like Teni sings in "Case", your papa no be Dangote.