A Day After Sallah

The situation just gets better and better. I mean after two long/ short days of lounging on the souls of dear rams (sallah), basking in the sun and drinking all sorts of toxins, one would think that upon resumption to the office, we would have to take off from where we stopped and get to down to the reason why we are being paid (work). Unfortunately, you see that is not the case here.

It is considerably hard that I have not being paid and have being coming to work for the past two and a half months, burning fuel, embracing traffic and struggling with insomniac, I’ll like to think all these for now are a bit excusable, considering the fact that a night before I had a wrestling match that left my right shoulder ball socket hurting, my beau walking out on me and generator consuming my fuel. So I’m out of the house by 4.45am, driving with my left arm, and pondering on how my brother manages to always consume my fuel…

All that aside, the painful part now is that I get to the office, glad at least that I get to wrap up on a few deliverables only to find out that the diesel in the generator is going to last for just two hours, PHCN has being faulty for the past three weeks and it was not deemed fit by the administration to either find an alternative means or better still tell staff to work from home. So… I have burnt the little fuel I have, managed to drive with one arm, being cheated of sleep, didn’t have a chance to paste my todo list on the fridge and here I am, can’t charge my phone, no water, no internet, sweating like a pig without a thought to if there will be any work done today.

Anyways what did I expect, I live in a disorganised country, with disorganised leaders, establishing disorganised states for disorganised people, developing disorganised policies for running disorganised corporate entities and I’m expecting a miracle *eyes rolling* NOT! This is just as it should be, if they had gotten things right, I would have being sure the world would be raptured today…

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Ok! so the morning begins thus! I’m out by 5.30am trying to be a colleague’s Damsel in shinning satin gown (that is of cause if such exists), I waddle through water and try to dodge a endless maze of potholes while a very persistent trailer with blinding head lamps stays on my trail forcing me to act a bit like bond girl (don’t ask).

So I’m at the airport striving to get a ticket (not mine) and all of a sudden I feel a light brush on my behind, hmmmmn, I ignored that and moved my fanny closer towards the counter, yet again I feel the brush and I’m pondering if its what I think it is, but this seemed like a distraction because in my all too brief stance of day dreaming I had being flushed completely off the line. I concentrate and try to get the attention of a mousy looking lady, who for all the wrong reasons thinks she’s on the runway, guess that’s what they put in the head of air hostesses these days *shrugs* and yet again a brush on my fanny and this time I turn around and smack the arm of the guy behind me and at once took in his grey tailored suit, white crisp shirt, freakled face and thick igbo accent.

He flinchs and says “what was that for madam?”, I could smell the lie off his thick unkissable lips and I say “this is not about what was that for because if you lay a single finger on me again I will ask that my men give you a whooping”, obviously he was confused, too much grammar I did say.

This of cause should all be laid at the feet of our leaders who in our so-called 50years of independence cannot have a functional and well spaced ticketing area, and you also have just two attendants to about 25 people while some men-in-black “wannabes” stand behind them feeling like they just came out of a GQ magazine, if they probably assist the two weary looking attendants I won’t have my fanny being brushed cause God knows what next I might be hit by. The Local Airport does need a complete makeover, the air-conditioning is out and there is absolutely no ventilation to douse the ever consistent smell of sweat ridden bodies.

And so I don’t lay it all at their feet I also need to look at major reason for my early morning struggle (my boss), who isn’t here yet and was already 20 minutes behind flight schedule. While trying to beep her I get hit yet again on my fanny this time by a trolley and the guy goes on a tirade of apologies and I thank God I’m well padded to have taken the hit, that won’t bruise easily.

I suddenly see her running down in green and gold suit while the protocol officers runs throw the congestion with her luggage, *sighs* finally the Head Nigger In Charge comes in.

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