"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.
