Hustler lines - EPISODE 1
When the phone rang
again, I didn’t bother to dip my hand in my rucksack to know who it was. Of
course, I knew it was my boss, the MD; my MD. I had a special ringtone for his
calls and I knew I was in for it. It was about his 30th call that
morning.
Of all days...of all the
days since I was appointed the personal assistant to the famous business mugu... sorry mogul Dr. Joel Okon, it
was that day my phone refused to alert me to wake up at 3:45 am. You can never
imagine when I woke since I skipped 3:35am; I woke up or decided to wake up at
about 6:45am! That, is an evil report if you understand the kind of job I do.
What did I then do?
Obviously, taking my bath was out of it. I put on my clothes on with similar
speed Spiderman or Superman would use when there was an emergency and in less
than10 minutes, nope...less than 3 minutes, I was in my kingluini Suit and my
shoes that usually gave me stress in putting it on dared not that day, the shoes
must have sensed the red light from my tension soaked face and they realised
the urgency at hand, hence, they decided to cooperate with me, maybe they read
my mind because if they had given me the stress I usually have when putting
them on, I would have thrown them away without much ado. The situation demanded
all the speed I could get because I was paying for not sleeping but sleeping!
I had slept...or better
put, I closed my eyes to rest the night before at about 3am. I was with my boss
at his monthly club meeting at the Hilton. The key materials to be used at the
conference that our organization was going to host were with me. It is an
international event and to get the hosting right, it took us a lot of input
which of course does not un-include exchange
of money, not just money, hard currencies.
And there I was on a
bike on the third mainland bridge at 7:36 or thereabout with the full prospect
of partly messing or messing the event up and probably my career along with it.
The event was billed to start at 8am prompt meaning no African, Nigerian or any
other time! The event must kick off at the scheduled time. That was part of the
guidelines we were given at the time we won the hosting right amidst strong
oppositions from big companies in the telecommunications and IT sector. And at
that point, it seemed I was the devil we prayed about last the week before at
the office, “the devil that may want to disrupt our plans for a successful
hosting”. I remember my MD’s pastor who came to the office to lead the special
prayer session said we should pray that such devils should die. I mean any
devil that may want to disrupt the event.
“The devil could even be
you” he had said, although not referring to anybody. He went further to say
that anybody who pays laxity attention to his or her duty is being a devil and
we should pray that we (the staff) will not be devils as we host this all
important event. Indeed, we all knew a successful hosting of the event would
place our company on a better pedestal and it could also translate to better
pay for all members of staff too. Although, I am not one of the churchy guys, but I prayed because of
the prospect I felt would appear during and after the event. And, there I was,
playing the devil? Oh no, I no be devil
and I knew I had to prove it by not being late.
“Guy, he be like say you
go pedal this thing well well small o!” I shouted to the okada rider who was
doing nearly 80 already. Believe me, I wouldn’t have dreamt to see myself on an
okada anywhere even in a nightmare!
It was a novelty to me but I did not feel it as I continued to plead for increase
in speed.
I looked into the
speedometer and noticed that the guy was already above 90 which got me smiling
with the thought of getting there not too late. And just as we passed by the
Adeniji-Adele junction, I heard a loud sound, it was like a gunshot and it was
so close to me. Before my brain that was already muddled with the thoughts of
getting late to the office could come to terms with the reality of a burst tyre,
I was already doing some superman moves in the air. I flew for some seconds
before eventually rolling and tumbling on the tarred road.
If you called that
“major disaster number two”, then you are in the spirit with me. The bag
containing my laptop and papers meant for the guests laid everywhere on the
road and tyres screeched to avoid climbing on them but to no avail. And of all
the vehicles in the world, I wonder where the trailer came from, it was a
trailer that eventually climbed on the bag the laptop was in and you can say
it.... “I don enter”.
I shouted in hysteria
like a man who just joined the league of the mentally instable and as I looked
around, a song of Alvin and the chipmunks titled “bad day” came to mind and the
tears invented itself from my eyes. I looked all around and it was then I
realised that I was not the only one who was involved in the accident. I looked
behind to see the bike rider. His face was okay but I am not sure his body was
because he was static on the ground groaning in pain. Although the crash helmets saved our heads
but not the man must have been hurt in
other parts of his body when he lost control of the bike. He had tumbled with
the bike and it seems he couldn’t walk. Some of the hang-arounds in their usual style of helping the needy came around
and I could hear him telling them to leave him alone and call the police or
something. I judged that he was okay and could cater for himself and so, I
decided that the best thing to do was to go on with my worries. He shouted at the
hang-arounds to leave him alone again
and. I wanted to help him but the thought of my job overshadowed that idea.
I hurried into the
traffic and tried to retrieve what I could of my rucksack of a bag. Immediately
I got the bag, I got another bike and headed for the office, there will be no
excuse for my boss. He hates excuses. And my situation is not even bad enough
to qualify to be an excuse putting in mind that he would not entertain any
excuse. I remember he jokingly said the only excuse he would think about would
be death, the death of the employee that has an excuse.
Hey, don’t think I have
such a devil for a boss. He is just the normal not so educated successful
businessman. However, he was rich and when I say rich I mean as rich as having
the University of Lagos bestowing on him a honorary doctorate degree. I am sure
by now you know what it entails to get a honorary doctorate degree from any
Nigerian University. And if you still feign ignorance of what obtains, then I
think you should look around and study some of the recipients, then you may
come to the realization that young intelligent people don’t get awarded with
honorary degrees but only rich and influential mugus..sorry again, moguls.
Although, I will not say it applies to every recipient of these awards, however
I will say that most of the honorary degrees are awarded based on the financial
strength of the recipients who have really made a mark of distinction in their
chosen field. How nauseating er? That is what I thought too.
Dr Joel Okon, my Oga, is a political power and he does
not need much introduction to those in the political class in Nigeria.
Although, better referred to as a business man, many know that he is the
sponsor of some political big wigs in the country. He made his money during the
military regime of General Abacha. He had won some important contracts that
changed his life’s story from a struggling house keeper to that of a contractor
and business magnate. He was the house keeper of a former military governor and
his rise to stardom and money was one of the booms during the military regime
of Abacha to the economy. My boss holds the retired general in high esteem; he
exhibits his loyalty whenever the opportunity arises.
Story has it that Ibrahim
Babangida had given his (Dr. Joel’s) boss some oil wells and since the military
man was very busy and wanted someone he could trust to help manage the wells,
he appointed my boss to be in charge. And sometime not long after, Dr. Joel’s
boss died. The wife and the family relocated to the United States and put my
boss in charge of all their Nigerian concerns since he earned the trust of
their breadwinner when he was alive.
And my boss during this
period had become close to many top shots in government and during the
government of General Abacha, it did not take long before my boss started out
as an independent big boy, diving into various high scale businesses while
maintaining that of his late boss. Today, it is said that he has much more
wells than his former boss who died in mysterious circumstances.
More coming soon!
Leave a Comment