OFFICE LIFE 7

HI FOLKS. HERE IS THE CONCLUDING EPISODE OF OFFICE LIFE BY BIMBOLA ADEBAYO (@Bunmi_Bimbola). THANKS FOR FOLLOWING THE SERIES. ANOTHER ONE STARTS NEXT WEEK. PLEASE READ, ENJOY AND BE KIND ENOUGH TO SHARE. BLESS…

Within an hour, an “unofficial” memo had gone round the television station announcing my appointment. Friends and foes milled around me to say their congratulations.

Only God knew what was running through the minds of many of those that had never wished me well while I was an intern. Some could not hide their disdain for me due to my very good relationship with my boss. Some others were simply envious as they did not have the kind of access I had to my boss.

Such people had used my ‘staffing’ to became instant friends with me that day as they congratulated me. One of them who is the Personal Driver of the Director of Programmes also went a little further to tell me how they had discussed the “crazy lifestyle you and your oga live”.

Most of their postulations were totally wrong. I needed to get him to spill more from whatever they had talked. So off we went to the bar. Two uniced bottles of ‘the Honourable’ and his mouth was running. If I ask him one question, he would answer five. Of course, they were just wild guesses that they concluded was right.

I was getting pissed by his alcohol induced talk and was about exiting when some ‘party organizers’ showed up. “We don dey find you nah”, one of them said as he brought out a sachet of gin and put one on d table.

One of them who was the office Dispatch Rider quickly volunteered to take me to the ‘party’ venue, our jedi and pepper spiced ponmo joint. I was thanking my stars that day’s assignment had bulky “returns” as those people would have made me a debtor and ruined my reputation.

We arrived and as I settled with a few pieced of the spicy ponmo, the Dispatch Rider took off again with the jedi woman. Within few minutes he arrived with the local beverage gin seller with another bike speeding behind him carrying the seller’s daughter with another big bowl containing bottles of these drinks in different colours and flavour.

Needless to say that I already knew that these people had “run” me down financially for that day. I was only praying that there would be enough cash to cover my transportation fare back home after the official and unofficial office “activities” for that day.

Inside me I was greatly trouble while the “Sepe” woman was smiling and bubbling. She had hit some kind of jackpot that day. Her daughter, who was in on the skin bleaching thing like her mother, was busy serving the beverage while her mother was taking the orders for peppered sauce meat. While my pocket was crying for a saviour, the drinkers were grooving and working their livers up.

As the groove got heavier, one of the party planners had called to one of his fellow revellers to go bring his vehicle so as to supply music. My last day as an intern was becoming very interesting. Perceived enemies were closing ranks and new friends were being made over our jedi and pepper-spiced ponmo.

Best part was the arrival on the scene by my oga with four babes in tow. Three of the ladies were well known. One of them had looked down me also due to her ‘parole’ with Mr. Oga while the two others were also interns. The fourth was a new one.

They all joined the party and made some “inviting comments” while saying their congratulatory message. My Oga will always be a wonderful man. He ordered for as many bottles of the ‘Big Honourable’ and in his short speech said “this is my beloved son in whom I am well pleased”. He then ordered the new female intern to “go keep his company. He is a great man”.

OFFICE LIFE (6)

THIS WEEK’S EPISODE OF OFFICE LIFE IS A LITTLE LATE. APOLOGIES FOR THAT. SOMETHING FOR THE VAL’S WILL DROP LATER TODAY. ENJOY THIS FROM @Bunmi_Bimbola first…

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”.

OFFICE LIFE (5)

OFFICE LIFE IS WRIITEN BY ABIMBOLA ADEBAYO (@Bunmi_Bimbola). PLEASE READ, ENJOY AND DON’T FORGET TO USE THE COMMENT BOX. BLESS

“You seem to be learning very fast for an intern. That shows that you are reliable and can be trusted with more sensitive assignments”.

That was my boss eulogizing me during the Editorial Meeting after I had carried out a duty assigned to him.

‘Sources’ informed me he had gone frolicking on a weekend time-out with one of the babes he told me to stay away from. He instructed me to carry out a few assignments, warning me sternly that there was no margin for error and that I would be in deep trouble if I failed. Unknown to me, it was his official assignment.

I had no objections really as it was a way of facilitating my re-launch into the mainstream that I was steadily getting into. The babe I was eyeing had already shown that she had outgrown me and was too ‘big for my gigs’. In the real sense of the word, I was actually passing my ‘semi left over’ to the boss. Not that he cares anyway, as long as the babe will be another ‘fish’ he had caught in the office.

Needless to say shame is not in some people’s dictionary. As for me, I had already made up my mind to play my “games” out of the office environs where the coast is larger and choices are available in different shapes, sizes and colours, with a level playing ground for all.

My major problem of ‘delivering’ after every assignment still remained. It was a very worrying situation that required me to do the ‘needful’ so as to break free from ‘slave labour’.

To make matter worse, each time I was out on official duty with my boss, the philandering man had the habit of always stopping at the office or shop of one or two of his many lovers. You will wonder how that is my business. Issue is his stopping to see those women always reduced whatever little I would get from the brown envelopes. On days that I am unlucky, there’s nothing left for me after Oga has formed Chairman.

On those days, I get compensated with pepper soup and a bottle (or two) of the ‘big honourable’. I however try to play the good boy always by not taking more than a bottle of beer and a plate of pepper soup.

Needless to say that he had been using the envelopes given to us to service his social life while he left me with whatever I enjoyed from the beer and pepper soup. Incidentally, he gave cash to these women right in front of me while all I got after beer and pepper soup most times was a pat on my back.

It was obviously a “monkey dey work baboon dey chop” situation all because I was an industrial trainee.

After much thinking I came up with a “master plan”. The logic was to wear natives for every weekend assignment knowing my boss would be unavailable most times. That way it was possible to divide money given to us at the assignments.

This was even easier because my boss’ trusted ally, the cameraman with whom I went on weekend assignments also suffered the same plight as me. Picking us as his crew members was not because he loved us, it was because he felt we were “obedient servants” as the others always gave him tough time.

Whatever we were given at any assignment was always ‘dealt with’ immediately. I always made sure I opened the envelope, counted the money and divide into three parts. I kept one-third in one pocket and kept the other two-third for delivery to the boss. We would then proceed to share the one-third while the rest would be given to the boss who uses his discretion on how to spend the money (mostly on beer and pepper soup).

The cameraman testified. He told me he has never gained much from working with our boss but with my new sharing formula, the “devil” has been put to shame.

He used to deride weekend assignments but the master ‘sharer’ in me made him look forward excitedly to weekends. He made himself available, on standby, always.

OFFICE LIFE (4)

HI FOLKS, HERE’S THE 4TH IN THE SERIES. SORRY WE HAD TO BREAK LAST WEEK DUE TO CIRCUMSTANCES BEYOND CONTROL. @Bunmi_Bimbola IS BACK TO SERVE YOU BETTER. PLEASE READ AND ENJOY; REMEMBER TO DROP A FEW COMMENTS AND SHARE WITH FRIENDS AS WELL. THANKS

Oga at the top looked at the two bottles of beer placed before him and smiled. He exchanged a few words with the bar man who in turn pointed in my direction. On sighting me, he smiled and looked away. I am sure he must be thinking what to do with me as he looked away. With eyes firmly trained on him, I did not know when the bar man left him or got to my side. He simply tapped me and said Oga asked me to join his table.
“Heavens must be at peace with me”, I thought as I got up and did a double march to his table. He looked at me, smiled and shook his head.

“My boy, what does these twin bottles of the big honourable stand for? Is it to find a way out of your present self-inflicted predicament?”. I stayed mute, scratching my head and shifting my weight from leg to leg. He looked up at me where I stood, in front of him, and he pointed to the seat, motioning for me to sit down.

“You still have a lot to learn and game skills to acquire before you can sky rocket”, he said as he picked his glass to down a few gulps. “You are jumping the gun, as well as hunting the game of elders”. I made a face that made him re-phrase what he said.

“By hunting the game of elders, I mean you’re rolling with ladies I have marked for my pleasure. But since you know another way to my heart, I forgive you. Go and sin no more”, he added and then took his glass to empty its content.

From what Oga at the top said, it was obvious as first guessed that my ‘downfall’ can be traced to flirting with his ‘chosens’. God help my soul! Though I enjoyed their company but I had to face the fact that I need not enjoy the female company at the expense of my career.

Moreover, I could always act “local champion” outside the television station. I therefore decided to put a stop to whatever closeness I had with the ladies in the office and stop them from putting ‘sand in my garri’. What do I even have to lose after all.

I was even more determined to cut off any link with them when I thought of how they neglected me when I landed in soup. Their actions in the little time of tribulation have even shown that they will cause me more harm if I don’t quickly settle with my benefactor. The licence to gain their attention was the meagre change I was making and the hype I was getting from the news broadcast.

Now that the licence has been trampled upon due to my relationship with them and none of them seemed to care, I just decided to let them go.

“Sir, I am very sorry”, I said to my boss. He looked at me pitifully and waved his hands, as if to say the matter was settled. No doubt this beer joint meeting is doing “wonders” and a positive result seems to be on the way. After some minutes of silence between us, I struggled to say “sorry sir” once again, adding that I am only a small boy who can’t eat pap without getting his fingers soiled.

My boss looked at me and continued ‘romancing’ his bottle of beer. It was like both of us had an agreement in the ‘spirit’ as we continued the drinking spree as if we were competing. After some hours of drinking and exchanging of banters alongside a long lecture from my boss on how to play my game without getting into trouble in the office, we discovered we had stayed for too long.

In my tipsy state, I still managed to count the number of empty beer bottles on our table. In all, we had downed twenty bottles of the ‘big honourable’ – my boss twelve and the rest were in my blood stream. What a way to reconcile!

OFFICE LIFE (2) BY ABIMBOLA ADEBAYO (@bunmi_bimbola)

THIS WEEK’S OFFICE LIFE HAS A TOUCH OF FICTION. THE VIEWS EXPRESSED THEREIN (ESPECIALLY RELIGIOUS) IS NOT TO MAKE MOCKERY OF ANY RELIGIOUS DENOMINATION. READ, ENJOY AND DON’T FORGET TO COMMENT…Oscarpoems

OFFICE LIFE (1) https://oscarpoems.wordpress.com/2014/01/02/office-life-1/

…dedicated to my Uncle, Mr. Lawrence Omidiora. Happy birthday Sir

Within two weeks of resuming work at the television station I had carefully chosen who and whom to relate with and the level at which to relate. How wrong and naïve my decision was soon come to the fore as I felt the full bite of high power “politricking”.

My Departmental Head soon grounded me by keeping me in the office without assigning me any duty. My punishment was based on the fact that I belong to the other group (like say na factions of a political party battling for supremacy).

Praises to my mother for her maternal instinct and spiritual sensitivity. She was a praying and a deeply religious woman. She took me to The Head Aladura prayer warrior of my Church who prepared some spiritual ‘materials’ after discussing with me. I saw him mix honey, coconut, black soap and other ingredients I will not mention because some folks may want to send my spiritual father out of business (wink with an evil grin).

He took me to a stream and the ‘needful’ was done to wash away every wickedness both real and imagined. I was then rubbed with good smelling oil which I am sure was a mixture of olive oil and others. He called it the oil of favour. I followed Baba Aladura’s instructions to the letter and went to resume work confidently the following week.

True to Baba’s prophecy, “formation” changed in the office within two days. I was assigned to understudy reporters at assignments, most of which were fertile ones. We came back with brown envelopes almost all the time so much so that within a few weeks, my account was swelling.

Problem however came again when the reporters from whom I was learning told me I was not doing what was right. When I asked what the supposedly right thing was, they said I have not been giving ‘returns’ to our ‘oga at the top’. I got the message through one of the boss’ protege before the close of work that day with the conditions that needed to be met to remain on my juicy beat.

I either comply with the order or be brought back to the office where the duty I would have to carry the old VHS tapes from the library to the Control Room. I was given till the next day to decide and conclude.

Within five minutes, my conclusion was ready. I dragged my confused mind and tamed it to reason along the situation my helpless body found itself.  “Please tell madam I would gladly comply with her directive”, I told the guy that was sent to me.

With that sorted, I packed my bags to close, my mood totally shattered at the thought of having to share the ‘coins’ which trickles down to me. I got to work the next day and my senior reporter told me we were to cover a government organised dinner and award night. I would normally have giggled endlessly but I knew the content of the brown envelope that normally accompanies such venture has been ‘pre-shared with quota’ in a very unfavourable ratio.

A superior who is a full staff with full benefits wanting forty percent of whatever I get from an assignment, that is ridiculously unacceptable but wetin man for do? From the remaining sixty percent, the cameraman and driver, as well as the video editor and his ‘people’ would also be ‘sorted’. Sad part is most of these ‘hangers-on’ are full staff. Lost in thought, I was comforted by the old saying “half bread is better than none”. Am I only interested in the perks of the assignment and not learning the job itself? Methinks not.

For weeks, I was going to assignments, while we maintained our ‘sharing formula’ in order to avoid being kept in the office and remain relegated.  Seriously however, I was calculating how to break free from the ‘slave trade’ I was subjected to.