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Sunday, 9 April 2017

HOTSHOT - EPISODE 1



With the best sound she could get while blending songs into another, she got carried away. A sweet offer could have passed away if she didn't drift her eyes towards her phone. An unknown caller had been ringing her phone for the last time after a couple of missed calls.

"Hello" she said in panic.

"Hello Miss Roseline. We are sorry to have disturbed your busy schedule. I am Roby calling from Basic Cleft. We are only curious to know if you could make it for a personal interview in the next three hours" the manly voice replied behind the phone.

"Why not? Of course I can. I could be there in the next two hours if you don't mind." She struggled placing her words.

"That will be no problem. We will be expectant then" he said and hung up.

Her loud scream attracted her younger brother to her room asking if he was called. He couldn't have heard right because his headphones were loud enough to for the next person seated to hear word for word the music he was listening to.

"Oh yes! I didn't call you but now that you're here, you can be of good help. You will help me edit my CV and add this to it." She directed him on what to do with a stern warning.

"No mistakes! Please I beg of you. This is my life here" she said and hurried to the bathroom.
Few minutes later, he shouted with a question at his bathing sister "How many years of experience big sis?"

"Six months, I think. Just put in there eight months. I know it wasn't up to a year though." The running shower didn't let her hear the rest of his words.

To be called and requested to put up an appearance for a private interview was something close to the best feeling ever for her. This is an organization she's always dreamt of and a very reputable one at that with loads of competition everyday. On her successful return back from the UK after several years of sponsorship and scholarship grants, she's applied to several organizations. Some responded back while others just shelved her application. To those that responded, she never got to the final stage of the interview leaving her to wonder if having a first class degree was ever useful in a time where things are to get better. As a matter of fact, if her mother hadn't insisted on her return, she would have landed herself a very good job in the UK. The beckons were loud with mouth watering offers. But the greatest tool implied by her mother was never to cause a brain drain in her home country. If everyone decided to work outside the country, who then is to develop the country with his own quota of efforts. Well, that worked on her and in no time she booked her ticket back to the country.

So, it was not a new thing to impress and cause whoever was in charge of the interview to have an instant feeling for her through the qualifications stated on her CV. Half an hour gone and she's yet to be on the busy Lagos road. She overheard her brother singing while washing the car outside so she assumed he would be through with his washing before her. She was going to call her mum who was on an occasion somewhere but changed her mind remembering the countless times her phone would ring before getting an answer. Sending a text was the best option.

Fifteen minutes gone by and she's yet to be through with her make up. Letting out a long hiss when she found out she's applied too much foundation on her face. She rubbed off and applied another immediately. Still, she could see through her window that her brother was still washing. She assumed he would be through soonest as she didn't pay close attention to his actions. There she came to the hardest of everything. Her lashes. She could remember the first time she tried that on, she felt an extra weight but soon enough she got accustomed with it.

"Why wear the lashes to the interview?" She said to no one in particular.

"You could give the wrong impression." Her spirit mind answered her.

“I need to give a convincing look and show how capable I am for this position." She replied herself.

Her brother's sudden shout syncing the chorus to his favorite song jeered her and she saw she had spent exactly an hour in her room. She picked her CV and looked round in her room for perfection. Satisfactory remarks she gave herself as she slid her feet into her shoes; flat shoes for comfortability as she preferred them always. On getting outside, she could only let out her frustration and anger through a long stare at her brother who wasn't through with washing the car. Desola gave an innocent look as she hissed and headed out.
She could only have thought with all her hastiness would still be delayed for another hour at the waiting room.

Reminiscing how she had to jump from one bus to another and even pay for an extra seat so they could leave the park after waiting almost thirty minutes with no passenger in sight. Desperation could have only made her do that.
With a typical Nigerian driver with his loud mouth ready to be triggered if pushed by anyone. They don't waste time to hurl unpleasant words at their offender. No one is right in their own perspective except them. No one dare drive in their way except he or she is ready to waste his day on a spot claiming rights.

Gbam! It has happened. The bus driver had just bashed an expensive new model car while having a hearty discussion with his conductor; copilot.

“Pilot, what are we to do now?" He said fidgeting.

In his response, he said in his typical Yoruba dialect “With all your years in Lagos, have I never told you it won't work? Speak the language I hear".

Obviously, the conductor still had his home training and manners intact. One could perceive something led to his current state as copilot. After another forty five minutes gone with the offended and the offender yet to reach an agreement. On another hand was a faction ready to drag the poor copilot into a deep mess if he doesn't refund their money as everyone was in a haste. Desola confused, could only walk away from the scene and eventually walk a while before getting to the state owned commercial bus station.

The double glass door flung open as she alighted at her final destination. She could see the company far ahead as she sighed and said “I wonder why I didn't board this in the first instance" she hissed at her statements conclusion.

“Ma'am you can go in now. The HR is ready to meet you" the front desk staff said with a bright smile. Tired Desola walked majestically with her hearts racing faster than a rotor into what seemed to be compared to as her own living room.

In a small house she lived, she would have thought their living room was the biggest in the world not until she saw this.

“Please have a seat." The HR manager said with a sip from her coffee and Desola responding with a kind gesture. As rigorous as the interview seemed to her, it only took the HR manager nothing less than five minutes assessment.

“I am impressed with what I've seen so far and I must say you're the right person for this position with such a huge qualification. I do hope you know that this position is such a humongous one. The shoes left behind aren't small to wear so you must be on the alert anytime and any day to work your bones for the company" she said without lifting her eyes from the CV before her.

“Please, I will be back in a jiffy" she rolled herself away from the chair. Only if Desola knew what that meant. Thirty minutes gone and she wasn't back. Fifteen minutes added and she was still not near her sight. What seemed like forever, she was becoming bored as her anxiety was almost weaning off.

The door flung open and a gentle man walked in with series of blue files containing audited accounts waiting for a signature to be appended. Blessed with a nicely built physique, Desola could only begin to imagine the number of male workers she would meet, number of friends she would have to keep up with when she resumes work.

“You're the new financial manager I suppose? Please do me the favour of appending your signature on these documents" he said with a very broad smile as he proceeded in laying the documents before her. She could only open her mouth wide in full blasts of amazement.


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1 comment:

  1. Hi, Labi. It's me Love. I figured this was a better way of letting you know I just read this - and it was great. Just to let know, you do great work. Do NOT stop.

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