First off, before I start writing all the rubbish that passes through my mind, I want to take a leaf out of Esse's book and thank everybody that has shown support or criticism of any form towards my blog. I really appreciate it. I also want to acknowledge on of the people who inspired me to get a blog... Farida, thanks for everything... *snaps fingers* Now that that's behind me, too the business of the day.
I've always wondered what sort of career I would have. To be more specific, whether I was gonna be my own boss or if was gonna rush to work every morning at 8am to satisfy another person. When I hear my elder ones telling me about their bosses and how he/she treats them, I always laugh and say "No... I ain't working for nobody mehn.... I'm gonna be a CEO.... a very wicked one". They say it's never early to start, so with the experiences of my friends who work and a little research, I'm drawing up my own company policy already.
1. Dress Code: I will advise them to come to work dressed according to their salary. If I see you wearing original Prada sneakers and carrying a N59,000 Gucci Bag, I assume you are doing well financially and therefore you do not need a salary raise. If you dress poorly, you need to learn to manage your money better, so that you may buy nicer clothes, and therefore you do not need a raise. If you dress somewhere in-between, you are right where you need to be and therefore you do not need a raise.
Also on the matter of dressing, my company shall be have a reputation for being fashion-conscious. If you are found wearing clothes that have been spotted previously at Yaba or Oshodi, your sack letter is imminent.
2. Sickness/Ill Health: I shall not accept a doctor's statement as proof of illness. If you are able to get your ass to the doctor's, then you be able to get your ass to my office. Shikena. On the other hand, send me a picture with you bleeding from your mouth and a knife passing through your stomach, and I'll readily grant you sick leave.
3. Annual Leave: You shall have 104 days of leave spread through out a year. Those days are called Saturdays and Sundays. Miss work on a Monday and ahh.... Even Sango no go save you....
4. Bereavement Leave: This is no excuse for missing work. There is nothing you can do for dead friends, relatives or co-workers. Every effort should be made to have non-employees attend to the arrangements. In rare cases where employee involvement is necessary, the funeral should be scheduled in the late afternoon. I will be glad to allow you to work through your lunch hour and subsequently leave one hour early.
5. Toilet Use: I have heard that most people run into the toilet to escape from work, so I shall devise a means to stop this. Every toilet door shall have a timer, and if you are still inside after 3 minutes, the door will fling open and a picture of you shall be taken and be places on the staff board.
6. Lunch Break: I don't think most Nigerian companies even do this, but being the kind-hearted Alhaji that I am, I will allow some time for lunch. Skinny people get 30 minutes for lunch as they need to eat more, so that they can look healthy. Normal size people get 15 minutes for lunch to get a balanced meal to maintain their average figure. Fat people get 5 minutes for lunch, because that's all the time needed to drink a Diet Coke.
So as you can see, I'm a very kind CEO.... Thank you for your loyalty to our (Me and @reehanat's) company. We are here to provide a positive employment experience. Therefore, all questions, comments, concerns, complaints, frustrations, irritations, aggravations, insinuations, allegations, accusations, contemplations, consternation, and input (I don't actually know what most of these words mean) should be directed elsewhere.
Yep.... My fingers are paining me... It haff do.... Plus Ramadhan starts tomorrow... I need my energy... Later y'all!
Saturday, July 30, 2011
Saturday, July 16, 2011
Made In Gidi
The true Lagosian: A perfect blend of brains and brawn. Of hustle and swag. An ajebutter, but can bring out the rugged side when it's needed. An ajepako, but still has swag in abundance. Yep, that's the true Omo Las Gidi, and that's what I am.
When I left home on Friday July 15 2011, I had no idea I would be in for one of my most rugged days in recent times. I was going to Unilag to pay for the Post UME form, which @DrewBaba (I should kill him for what he made me go through) said was going to close that day. Around 9am, I left my house, hoping that I would be through with the purchase by 11am and would be able to see a movie at Ozone cinemas when I was done. But as the wise ones have said, "Man proposes, God disposes".
When I got to Yaba around 9:45am, the amount of people queuing for the shuttle to campus was amazing. The first that came to mind was "Hell no... No way I'm joining the end of this line". I looked around, looking for anybody I could "shunt" with. All I saw was hard faces all saying the same thing, "Bros go queue o... Even Orunmila no go allow you enter this line". Then I noticed the buses were passing right beside me to go pick up those in the front. I quickly ran onto one, drawing suprised looks from those on the queue. The driver asked what I was trying to do, and I just shoved N50 into his palm. I don't know what he told the guy at the front controlling the queue, but the man just looked at me and shook his head. Like I cared.
On getting to the school, my first stop was Wema Bank. I saw the crowd at the bank, and I felt like my killing myself. I don't think an adjective exists in the English vocabulary to describe the multitude of people there. I was still feeling fresh, so I didn't want to hustle yet, still hoping the crowd would reduce soon. After about an hour of exchanging pins with some pretty young things, I looked about and saw that the crowd had actually INCREASED. I swore to myself and decided to check out the other banks, hoping the crowd would be lesser. After another hour of shuttling between DLI, the main campus, and the gate, I decided to go back to Wema Bank and turn on full-hustle mode.
On a good day, I hate bank staff. And given how cranky the enormous crowd had made them, I knew getting into the bank was going to be World War III. Ignoring screams of "That boy is shunting!", "Go back!", "Don't allow him pass!", I made my to the gate. The security man there was vexed almost to a homicidal level and was pouring water on the crowd to get them to shift back. I looked at the shirt I was wearing, a Thomas Pink, and mouthed "I'm sorry", before squeezing myself into the crowd and attempting to get into the bank. I can still remember I identified about 9 different offensive odours. But I had to do what had to be done.
The guard, obviously tired of working himself to the core for the meager salary he earned, stood back and allowed some people to enter the bank. I still don't know how it happened, but 7 seconds later, I was inside the bank. Sad thing was, my left palm sandal had falling behind in the warfare. Going to back to get it, also sadly, was not an option. Seeing an open room inside the bank with chairs and Ghana-must-go bags inside it, I went in and sat down to ease my throbbing ankle. My worst mistake of the day.
Next thing I knew, the door was closed from the outside, and I heard "Call the Mopol! We have a thief in the store room!". About 5 minutes later, the door opened and I look into the face of an extremely ugly man wearing a bulletproof vest. I actually thought this was a small issue until I saw Mr. Ugly bring out hand-cuffs. Luckily for me the branch manager was a woman, which made pleading a lot easier. I showed her my Uniyonu ID card, and she just smiled and asked Mr. Ugly not to bother. She was a Unilorin graduate herself and aided me in the payment for the form. Finally, at about 2:30pm (I felt very bad that I missed Jumat) I left the bank.
On getting outside, my missing palm slipper was nowhere to be found. And to complicate issues, rain started to fall. After 30 minutes of fruitlessly searching for my missing slipper under the rain. I walked out out of Unilag, wet and on one leg. At the gate, I walked past a group of 3 girls, who laughed as I squeezed past them. What I heard next though, removed any murder notions I had towards them. One of them had said, "He still looks fresh though". I don't think my cranium had ever been larger in my life than at that moment. I walked on, and paused in front of a shop with glass walls. I looked at my reflection and I just had to smile. I actually was looking fresh. I bought a pair of white bathroom slippers, and dumped the other palm slipper in a dustbin.
On my way home, I thought about all what I had gone through today, and was still able to draw that compliment. Most ajebutter boys like myself would have lost their heads after all that happened, but I guess I'm a perfect Lagosian. Truly Made In Gidi.
P.S. All of you that have been wanting to yimu, you are now free to do your noses like Baba Yusuf's pigs.
When I left home on Friday July 15 2011, I had no idea I would be in for one of my most rugged days in recent times. I was going to Unilag to pay for the Post UME form, which @DrewBaba (I should kill him for what he made me go through) said was going to close that day. Around 9am, I left my house, hoping that I would be through with the purchase by 11am and would be able to see a movie at Ozone cinemas when I was done. But as the wise ones have said, "Man proposes, God disposes".
When I got to Yaba around 9:45am, the amount of people queuing for the shuttle to campus was amazing. The first that came to mind was "Hell no... No way I'm joining the end of this line". I looked around, looking for anybody I could "shunt" with. All I saw was hard faces all saying the same thing, "Bros go queue o... Even Orunmila no go allow you enter this line". Then I noticed the buses were passing right beside me to go pick up those in the front. I quickly ran onto one, drawing suprised looks from those on the queue. The driver asked what I was trying to do, and I just shoved N50 into his palm. I don't know what he told the guy at the front controlling the queue, but the man just looked at me and shook his head. Like I cared.
On getting to the school, my first stop was Wema Bank. I saw the crowd at the bank, and I felt like my killing myself. I don't think an adjective exists in the English vocabulary to describe the multitude of people there. I was still feeling fresh, so I didn't want to hustle yet, still hoping the crowd would reduce soon. After about an hour of exchanging pins with some pretty young things, I looked about and saw that the crowd had actually INCREASED. I swore to myself and decided to check out the other banks, hoping the crowd would be lesser. After another hour of shuttling between DLI, the main campus, and the gate, I decided to go back to Wema Bank and turn on full-hustle mode.
On a good day, I hate bank staff. And given how cranky the enormous crowd had made them, I knew getting into the bank was going to be World War III. Ignoring screams of "That boy is shunting!", "Go back!", "Don't allow him pass!", I made my to the gate. The security man there was vexed almost to a homicidal level and was pouring water on the crowd to get them to shift back. I looked at the shirt I was wearing, a Thomas Pink, and mouthed "I'm sorry", before squeezing myself into the crowd and attempting to get into the bank. I can still remember I identified about 9 different offensive odours. But I had to do what had to be done.
The guard, obviously tired of working himself to the core for the meager salary he earned, stood back and allowed some people to enter the bank. I still don't know how it happened, but 7 seconds later, I was inside the bank. Sad thing was, my left palm sandal had falling behind in the warfare. Going to back to get it, also sadly, was not an option. Seeing an open room inside the bank with chairs and Ghana-must-go bags inside it, I went in and sat down to ease my throbbing ankle. My worst mistake of the day.
Next thing I knew, the door was closed from the outside, and I heard "Call the Mopol! We have a thief in the store room!". About 5 minutes later, the door opened and I look into the face of an extremely ugly man wearing a bulletproof vest. I actually thought this was a small issue until I saw Mr. Ugly bring out hand-cuffs. Luckily for me the branch manager was a woman, which made pleading a lot easier. I showed her my Uniyonu ID card, and she just smiled and asked Mr. Ugly not to bother. She was a Unilorin graduate herself and aided me in the payment for the form. Finally, at about 2:30pm (I felt very bad that I missed Jumat) I left the bank.
On getting outside, my missing palm slipper was nowhere to be found. And to complicate issues, rain started to fall. After 30 minutes of fruitlessly searching for my missing slipper under the rain. I walked out out of Unilag, wet and on one leg. At the gate, I walked past a group of 3 girls, who laughed as I squeezed past them. What I heard next though, removed any murder notions I had towards them. One of them had said, "He still looks fresh though". I don't think my cranium had ever been larger in my life than at that moment. I walked on, and paused in front of a shop with glass walls. I looked at my reflection and I just had to smile. I actually was looking fresh. I bought a pair of white bathroom slippers, and dumped the other palm slipper in a dustbin.
On my way home, I thought about all what I had gone through today, and was still able to draw that compliment. Most ajebutter boys like myself would have lost their heads after all that happened, but I guess I'm a perfect Lagosian. Truly Made In Gidi.
P.S. All of you that have been wanting to yimu, you are now free to do your noses like Baba Yusuf's pigs.
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