APPLY HERE II

“What’s up?” DD said.

“Um, hi, I found the place yeah?”

“And?” He was impatient.

“Well? It looks funny, somehow.” Funny does a lot of injustice to this place.

“How?”                                

“Kind of run-down. But I can’t decide if it’s a front for a better place. Maybe they are just trying to eliminate people this way.”

“So, why don’t you wait it out and see what they have.”

“I will. I’m here aren’t I?”

“Good, call me when you’re done. LASTMA just collected 5000 from me so I’m slightly pissed at the moment.”

“What did they say you did?” I was alarmed

“Rubbish. Later. Just face your stuff. Bye.”

People were still coming up the stairs. I resigned myself to a very long day and found a comfortable spot on the wall to lean on. I noticed one of the latecomers strut in. He was tall, orange-skinned and looked quite good in his well-cut suit. The only thing bigger than his apparent confidence, was his oversized orange head. He said hello, I nodded my response. Not long after, I noticed someone was explaining herself to the man behind the desk. I decided to brave the humidity and step back into the office. On closer investigation, I realized that the young lady was addressing one of the three sweaty people I had earlier ignored, and the man behind the desk was handling her CV. The interview was underway! Right there in the stuffy, overcrowded office, and 2 of the sweaty people I had ignored were interviewers!

I perched by the door still trying to keep my nose outside the rancid office. Big-orange head walked up to me and asked if I had written my name down on a list. I couldn’t explain that I almost left when I discovered this was my destination so I took out my pen and wrote down my name. Then he leaned in and with a cheeky smile, mumbled, “Aren’t you a little too pretty for this job?” I couldn’t even muster a response so I ignored him. Smart person he was, he moved on rather than push it. I was the 11th person on the list and they were interviewing the second person. I took the opportunity to observe the man behind the desk. 

Greasy. Where the others were sweaty, he could be described as greasy. Skinny with a pinched face, he bobbed his head around a lot when he talked, used a lot of hand gestures and squinted at the responses to his questions. 

Someone was suffering from high self-esteem.

Each interview was a succession of Greasy saying “Hang arand” at the end, then “Nest!” signaling the next person. I was going to be interviewed by someone who could barely speak English and I would have to endure watching him feed his self-importance. A man walked into the office. He must have been the boss because one of the Sweaty men broke away from the interview he was conducting to prostrate partially and collect the man’s beat-up leather bag.

At this point my eyes must have been as large as saucers because I couldn’t believe this was the person running this, well, establishment. The Boss was positively even more hungry-looking than all the other “interviewers”. The jacket hanging from his bony shoulders could be mistaken for a cape. He was incredibly lean so his belt probably went round twice because his trousers were bunched up around his waist. He cast his jaundiced looking eyes about the room and took to calling names from the list I had written my name in. He got to my name and asked what time I was given for my interview. 12, I said. What time did I get there? 11.50, I replied. He went on to sort through the files of the interviewed people. Sweaty-person-who-collected-the-Boss’-bag then called out the names of the chosen people who were to wait some more, while the others were told to return on Thursday by 10.

I was too intrigued by the bony boss to notice that my turn had come. I took my seat and waited for the first question. Sweaty-person number 2 asked for my CV. I drew it out from my file. He asked me to describe myself in 1 minute. Was this a joke? I described my age, qualification blah-blah-blah. Greasy decided to wade in and ask if I was married.

Um, if the rings didn’t clue you in, it’s boldly stated on my CV which is in your hand! I said I was married.

“Since when?” he asked with his pinched face.

“Last month.”

He humphed and bobbed his head back and forth as he took his seat.

“Work interests; Marketing Communications. So you want to work in MTN?”

No, I didn’t just hear that. “Marketing communications is not telecommunications. It really cuts across all industries.”

“I don’t even know where to start with you. All this your freh-freh-freh.”

Are you kidding me?! I kept my face straight.

“Hm, ok. You say you are how old?” He squinted at me.

“I will be 25 in June.” I squinted back.

“When?” He squinted harder.

I gave up. “25th.”

“No, your full date of birth.”

I obliged him.

“Where did you serve?”

“I started in Kano, I finished in Lagos.”

“Why did you relocate?” At this point he leaned back in his chair and put his fingertips together, dramatically. I almost bent over trying not to laugh. This man obviously saw too many home-videos.

“Uh,” I was truly tickled. “Health problems and, of course, marital reasons.”

“Ehen, you women,” he shook his head.  

Your mama .

“Is this your first job interview since after youth service?”

“Yes.”

“It is not indicated,” he tapped my CV with his pen.

Yes, it is, you bat! “It’s right here,” I pointed while looking at his oily face.

 “Ok, ok, that’s alright. All this ones, nko?” He was referring to my pre-NYSC experience.

“If you check the years indicated on each employment detail, you will see that I was a student for the duration.” I was getting impatient. After a moment I’m sure he spent pondering how to phrase his question in English, he said,

“I want to give you a position as a Credit Officer.”

What do you mean you want to give me a position? Aren’t you recruiting for someone else? 

“Oh, what’s that?” I was a bit slower as I realized the urban legend was indeed a legend.

“Marketing. What will you say if I paid you 20,000 to raise 2million in 2 weeks?”

I would have started laughing by this time if I wasn’t too dazed, realizing how much of my life I had wasted in this hell hole in the hope that this was a front for a better establishment. Whoever originated that story is a liar from the pit of hell and he must be judged accordingly. Why I didn’t immediately grab my file and leave still beats my imagination. Instead, my interview skills kicked in automatically and I told him,

“I have to know more about the product I’m selling and the people I work for before I can give you an answer.”

“That’s good,” he bobbed his head repeatedly. I hoped it would roll off. “We are Harvest MFB, this is our centre of operations-” reconfirming my worst nightmare. “We started operation in 2007 and our products include savings account, daily-collecting-” He should have just said ajo, the skinny cow! “-current account and fixed deposit account. Which of these will be easier for you to sell?”

Damn those interview skills and my good manners, I couldn’t for the life of me, just storm out of there.

“I’ll say the fixed deposit because most people have a savings account already. How competitive are your rates with the rest of the market?” I could have kicked myself for still being there.

“Yes, well, you know there are different kinds. Our own is a minimum of 3 months, at the end you get 20%”

No kidding! Are you into money-doubling too?! “Wow, that’s impressive,” it was my turn to bob my head now for want of what to say. “I can definitely sell that.”

“What does your husband do?”

What has that got to do with you? “He runs his own business.”

“Ah, the money is complete already. You can just collect it from him, I don’t mind.”

Come again?! I should collect my husband’s hard-earned money and put it in your dead business so you can pay me 20,000 after 2 weeks! I was at a loss for words. I didn’t know how to end this joke so I could go home. Damn those manners again.

“I am actually employing you for Centre Manager, don’t mind me.” He broke into a smile. Oh, believe me, I’m not minding you. I’m not minding you at all. “I just wanted to test you, to see how you will react to it. You see we are expanding, so we need to open a new branch in that your area. You will be in charge of hiring people who will market with you. You will find a meeting place where you will plan and do your market segmentation-” where did he learn that? “-then you will separate to the different segments-” oh, he doesn’t know what it means. “I’m sure it is something you can do. The money for this job is 40,000.” I could see how that must have sounded mouth-watering to him.

“Eh, yes but I still have to think about it.”

“No problem, you will come back on Thursday by 10 am for a full briefing.”

“Yes, yes, I will. Do you need the extra CV?”

“No just this one. How about your passport?”

“You know what? I don’t think this one is good enough, why don’t I bring a better one on Thursday.”

“Ok, ok, if you like. See you… NEST!”