My internship with the television station was nearing the end but I was sure I had learnt a lot to last me a life time in my career.

I had successfully crashed ‘women’ and ‘wine’, two W’s that was associated with the media frenzy. If the need arose for me to celebrate my graduation, I was sure my boss would not be short of words to describe my excellence.

Knocking down at least seven bottles of the big honourable became a daily routine for me. Like some folks would say “its combination with milk will refresh the brain”. My relationship with the big honourable was so strong that life become incomplete and unfulfilling whenever we skipped our regular “romance”.

I had heard my boss say times without number that the honourable “is a sure way to replenish lost energy and compensate the brain for a day’s job”.

There were many nights I left the bar with my boss and got home in high spirits. Waking up with a hangover was the pointer to always start my day. Many times, I had to dip my fore finger into my throat to vomit so as to reduce the alcohol level and the effect in my system.

A few weeks to the end of my internship, I had a friendly chat with a staff of the television. He asked how I was able to cope with the boss, noting that everyone who ‘rolled’ with my boss always got his fingers burnt.

“See egbon, nobody rolls with our oga and has a better story to tell o. How you take dey do am sef?”, the man asked.

As we strolled to the palmie joint during the break-time, the man jokingly noted that my boss should have taken a job with a brewery as the “Chief Taster” due to his love for alcohol and the ability to mix different brands without much fuss.

I laughed hysterically and added that “oga is a record breaker when it comes to any kind of alcohol. He don add beer to the work he taught me here sef”.

The second “W” was women. As much as I had my swell time with them, the unwritten standard rule with my boss was “never move near my target”. It was a ‘touch not my anointed’ situation despite the fact that some of the ladies would not have passed up the chance to be with me once or twice.

To him it would be like a Local Government boss challenging the President to a contest. Trust my street smartness, I was still able to beat him in that area though with great caution and mutual unspoken word with any of the ladies involved.

If you say “sharp practice practitioner” you must be referring to either my boss or me. He was a don in office politics and I had quickly learnt the ropes from him.

Our misunderstandings were always minor, and were settled at the beer joint over bottles of honourable while I mostly settled the bills from the ‘coins’ I got from our different assignments. I would not complain because divine wisdom had worked profitably for me in form of my native dress technique.

My last major assignment with the television station was a juicy one. I was on one of my many “office grounding” punishments for not following the office game rules. All staff in the editorial department had gone for their different assignments.

The usual activity with office grounding is sleeping. I was taking a dose of that when the General Manager’s office assistant walked in and said “the GM wants to see you”.

My heart did a double flip in my chest because no one was summoned into the GM’s office without a serious issue to settle.  We all called that office ” the Slaughter Slab”.

The only thing I saw on the face of the Office Assistant was a look of pity. My mind was into turmoil. “I must be in trouble”, I thought to myself.

As I approached the GM’s office, I made a sign of the cross, took a long breath and knocked the door. Without waiting for answer, I opened the door and greeted. He sized me up and gave a nod as if he was satisfied with something. Looking up, he said “go back to your office”.

The Office Assistant came back to give me a note. I tried studying the expression on his face as I opened the note but it gave nothing away.  As I took my eyes off him and on to the note, I read “Go and join the reporters and the driver downstairs. You are heading to cover the First Lady’s assignment”.

I picked my mobile phone and wallet and ran down the stairs at the speed of light.

For the first time in all my stay in the media house, I did an assignment without giving returns to anyone. My fat envelope weighed heavy in my pocket.

I was again summoned by the General Manager the next day. He told me that I had been recommended by my oga and some senior reporters to stay on as a News/Editorial Assistant in the Radio service after my internship.

That means I could continue to work after my internship while I returned to school. I did a combined grin, smile and laugh, went flat on my chest to say my thank you and took my leave. As I got out of the office, my oga called. “Ogbeni come and wash the promotion for me o. 12 big honourables on you”.


About oscarpoems

Finds great pleasure in reading and writing my thoughts. Chartered Animal Scientist, writes poems and articles for leisure and fulfillment. Lover of God, country and humanity.
This entry was posted in Fiction, Guest Posts, Office Life and tagged , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

8 Responses to OFFICE LIFE (6)

  1. Isaacola AA says:

    I hope the assignment did not cover editing the igblish (straight face with evil wink)

  2. Yemi Michael says:

    From beer joint to palmy joint.o boy,na wa for u &ur for d 12honourables you’re to use to compensate your oga,am sure he wil end up as a pot-belly man.clothes Sef no go fit am Again.anyways,am waiting for my share.

  3. Paul says:

    Office politics… God ‘ll see us 2ru!

  4. ollyman says:

    Good one

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