Misconception

Dear Diary: Dusk Before Dawn

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Dear Diary,

I found myself in a serious imbroglio recently. I’ve heard of the danger in lines and messages with multiple meanings to different people, but it never blew at my face this way before.

We all have our share of friends met during dire circumstances, who later turned out to be great pals akin to a brother―or sister―and family. In my case, John ranked high on the list of such friends, and many times I wondered how it happened.

John, like his friend, is a young man who never feels comfortable with tons of praises and felicitations. Place three beautiful seguing adjectives behind his name and you will have him tweet and retweet like a mockingbird, persuading you to stop the hype like he has a chronic allergy for it (that is still under investigation though).

You can imagine having to bench the idea of putting a well-deserved post for him on Facebook on his birthday (because it would be lots of sweet words); sticking to the limited number of characters the profile message space of a blackberry messenger has to offer. I remember typing a few words about how we got this far, bla bla bla… and a final full stop.

But the stop was far from full.

Have you ever been at that point where a person is the trigger needed to start a chain reaction? The full stop was the beginning of hours of reminiscence. He reminded me of how I almost didn’t get into the university when I did, with a heavy heart and disappointed face so wrinkled you would think I served a long sentence atop a compost pit. By the way, John was the first person to see the face.

He reminded me of my deployment to a state that seemed like a nightmare during my service year, and the dream job I didn’t get even when it was just about a meeting away.

What I later found out was that most times, disappointments and let-downs are blessings, which in retrospect would make one shine one’s not-so-white-teeth or otherwise in acknowledgement.

The fact that I almost didn’t get into the university when I did―that anyone can fail if careless―is one of the reasons I got serious and graduated when and how I did. The nightmarish location NYSC deployed me to, turned out better for me before the end of the service year―being the highest-ranked (and maybe highest-paid) corps member of one’s local government comes with respect, challenges and responsibilities that will mold rough clay to smooth vase. Erstwhile dream job would’ve been good; it just wouldn’t have aligned and added value to me quickly like what I have. I found out after failing to get the former.

Now, imagine retiring to bed later that night, and then summing up all the memories into something about “heartbreaks that were in the real sense, blessings in cloak.” I put this up as my PM after a final chat with John. This would’ve been a normal thing; just another update you put up every once in forever. Right?

Wrong!

The timing was wrong! In fact, it was way so uncanny.

I had a relationship some years back, and the lady with whom I had it got introduced (a pre-wedding event) that same day! A disgruntled ex-boyfriend could have written what I wrote as my profile message, and she pretty much came for my hides with smiles and knives. The update seemed like a fitting shoe size, but I never did the shopping for her. I tried to see the situation from her perspective (perhaps ‘heartbreak’ wasn’t the best word choice), but then Thesaurus even disagreed. Heartbreak relates to despair, grief, pain et al; and not matters of the heart alone.

She never believed me; I didn’t flog myself trying to explain either. There is no value-add clarifying issues to someone who has chosen not to be objective about it, or even believed I could go to the extent of sticking it to her in the first place.

I would’ve kept this to myself but I couldn’t suppress the yearn to let it out and move on. I owe it to myself to come clear. I owe my friends (including those that never voiced their doubts) the facts, so they can be reassured I’m not that guy!

On the bright side though, I won’t be surprised if this fiasco turns out to be another good thing; an unfortunate event that is really a blessing in disguise. 🙂

Only time will tell.

*****

It’s been three months since the last post! *I cringe* If I had cultivated maize then, I should be chilling on the sofa now with my legs crossed, devouring a well roasted corn with my eyes set on the dough cribs full of harvest would rake in.

I didn’t.

Apologies for the long period of inactivity. The past three months were about lots of travelling and engagements that required serious attention. A lot was at stake so I had to give the needed devotion (multi-tasking isn’t always the best, believe me).

Now that things are calm, I’ll make-up for the gap.

I am @jossef69 on twitter.

Client X: The End Of Me

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“A file containing each candidate’s questions will be distributed now,” she paused and motioned some staffs to share the files, “and you’re required to answer the questions in the spaces provided. You will study the role play questions carefully and act out your solutions when the time comes, as you would in a real life situation.”

She finished with the instructions and asked if anyone has questions or requires some clarifications. Taking cue that all was well from the silence that followed, she stepped out in her rocking stilettos.

It was an assessment day as a part of the recruitment process of a big service firm. In a nice suit and a well placed fitting spectacles that complemented the bonhomie exuding smile on my clean-shaven face, I sat in the reception amidst a number of other candidates, scribbling out answers and mulling over my role playing questions.

A pitch of just a minute to convince a potential customer to save her huge fund in our firm didn’t seem like a very hard first role to play, considering that I had ample time to contemplate. I came up with an idea and reiterated it severally till it stuck. Many lips around me ventured in similar silent movements. Everyone except the young man beside me whose mouth moved and hummed like that of an herbalist in an incantation spree.

A familiar pair of eyes settled on me as I entered the cosy office space where my first role playing assessment was to commence. Young, pretty. . . and with everything that screamed ‘hawwtt’. She was the ma’am from some moments earlier. I didn’t fall for the usual seat trick; she didn’t offer it either. She went through my file, did some blinking and nodding before she relaxed and looked up at me.

“You’re welcome! I’m Mabel, and your session starts now. Make your pitch!”

She meant business. I like business.

I spilled out my recital on quality service, the need for her to get value for her hard-earned money, the consideration of her convenience in the overall scheme of things, and rested my case seconds to the one minute stop.

She acted the rich potential customer and was pretty good at it.

“That’s what you all say!” she objected. “There are several firms out there that offer the same packages as you do. What’s to make me pick you and not anyone of them?”

“True!” I feigned sudden realisation, “You’re right on the point.”

I moved closer to her and explained with rich gesticulations.

“Ours is quality solid servicing that runs deep; flexible, stimulating and satisfying the core of your very needs.” I motioned my right palm downwards, subconsciously pointing at an imaginary core.

A flicker appeared in her eyes briefly and I took it as a cue that I was making sense. Perhaps I wasn’t. I added a rejoinder without delay.

“Everyone wants service packages and experiences that are convenient, exhilarating and appropriately matching their expectation; like a long round peg in a deep round hole. Fitting. Ma’am, it’ll take your breath away and keep you wanting more.”

She went from a flicker to raised brows over eyes that stared deeply into my very being like I’ve hinted her the location of a treasure stash. I quickly took advantage of the moment. Confidence burgeoning.

“Yes. We are that good. Our impeccable reputation and testimonies from customers we service steadily over the years can attest to this.”

Like a runway judge assessing a well trimmed sizzling hot six-packs-possessing male model, her gaze ran me over with skilled subtlety.

“Hmmmmn. Okay. . . This officially ends the proper role playing session. Please sit.”

She smiled and paused at the last word, motioning me to the seat across her. I gave a warm smile as well and she continued.

“You appear to know stuffs about erm—”

A moment passed before she got a grip of the word.

“. . . about servicing.”

She scrutinised my expression for some non-verbal cues I think. I pulled up the right façade for the moment.

“Can you share with me how you honed the skill? Some post-graduate experience or what?”

“Honed” and “post-graduate experience” up-notched a little in a drawl I would call titillating if not for the official ambience and my potential job on the line. I answered her and several questions followed. They somehow hovered around servicing, with keywords like deep, strong, core, quality, flexible, satisfaction, and the shebang taking the center stage. The rest of my session with her was smooth, and the feeling helped me in the other stages. I had a good start.

My journey home was spent reminiscing the past few hours of the day. I flashed to my speech on quality service and the loads of conviction, and I kept asking myself, “Where did all that come from?” Really, interview teaches one to be a good liar and a sly fox, among other things. I stifled a mirth at the thought of the second assessor trying to intimidate me, oblivious of the “battery full” on my confidence-o-meter. Who intimidates a graduate with five (5) months of requisite no-experience anyway?

Later that night I got a text from a strange number. A concise content with some inviting words about servicing, and details of an appointment somewhere in town. It ended with a name: Mabel.

Then it dawned on me. Perhaps I had used lots of “servicing” in convincing my role client and she had given it a meaning of her choice: a servicing that involves two opposite sexes, coital cravings, and a whole lot of potentials going kinetic.

I’m not at liberty to disclose my employment status and details, but she says my servicing is thrilling and indispensable. It’s been two months of active duty. I fear I’ll expire, but she never tires. She never will.

My boss. My belle. My bane.

I am @jossef69 on twitter.

Facebook Like Page || Adewoyin Joseph A.

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