Say what...?
As Dan furiously clicked on the options on the computer screen, his temporarily purposeless existence had found meaning. He was in a race against time, his brain on overdrive, thinking for all he was worth. This was a welcome development after a month of sitting at home (for he hardly wandered from the safety of his house with empty pockets). But once done with the aptitude test the weariness returned. Especially when the results refused to present themselves immediately (computers should be able to do that, shouldn’t they?). All he got was a big fat message on the screen saying:
‘‘Thank you for participating in the test. Only shortlisted candidates shall be contacted.’’
In the test that secured him his previous job (which he had to leave after three months for fear of his life thanks to the ever-increasing terror attacks in the region he was posted, and denial of application for a transfer), the results had popped out at once, increasing the worthiness of the system. But that method had a downside, as people who couldn’t control their emotions would display them openly, either in the form of praise and worship songs from those were scored high, or weeping and gnashing of teeth for those who didn’t... Someone yelled his name from behind him, interrupting his thoughts.
‘Dan! How you doing? Long time!’
‘Hey, Mark! You came for the test too? All the way from.... When did you get into town?’
‘Last night. David is also here. We met yesterday while on the road.’
‘So where is he?’ asked Dan, stretching his neck to scan the crowd.
‘Ah... If it’s the David we know, he’s probably blocking a chick somewhere, telling her that his uncle owns the company, and how she’ll get the job if she...you know...that kind of thing. But seriously, we need to hang out. This evening’s all we’ve got, I leave tomorrow. Let me ping David and see how we’ll do it,’ Mark said as he brought out his blackberry...
It was a neat little place located in a decent environment and patronized by the middle and upper class that lived around. ‘Does the middle class truly exist in this country anymore?’ Dan thought. He’d made sure they sat facing the plasma TV from a good angle so that every once in a while it could serve as a distraction when conversation wasn’t flowing. They were four now, the newest member a girl David had been chatting through facebook and was physically seeing for the second time ever. They talked as they ate, when anyone was speaking, others would listen and eat.
‘Oh boy, una see as we many wey write that test?’
‘My man, I weak no be small. One million people for how many jobs? I just de solve the probability inside my head.’
‘Seriously, the government should take relevant measures and do something about youth unemployment.’ That was David, sticking to English, to impress his girlfriend.
‘...Government? This government doesn’t exist to protect our interests. We had better start looking out for one another as family, friends, and fellow countrymen before putting our hope in that alien institution called government.’ Unconsciously Dan had switched to English as well.
‘I think I understand you,’ David’s girlfriend contributed. ‘I have an elder sister who’s been working for ages and she’s married to a big C.E.O. kind of guy. I ask her to keep an eye out for openings in her company I can apply for, or any placements her husband can help me with, not just for free, but based on my qualifications. I’ll bet she’s never even mentioned my name to her husband. Instead all she does is e-mail me web links to apply for master’s degrees abroad; as though she’ll pay my fees when the time comes.’
‘Maybe she’s afraid that if you get close to her husband you’ll snatch him,’ David laughed, and noticing her angry stare hastily added, ‘not because you’d want to but you’re actually that hot you know’, which made her relax a bit.
‘Maybe that’s why I find interviews different. If everyone else spends ten minutes being drilled, I’m bound to spend twenty. Interviewers want to know if a girl can be a beauty and a genius in one, asking question after question till they roll out one you can’t answer. You can almost see the satisfaction on their faces’, she added sadly.
Mark chipped in, ‘Speaking of interviews, I don’t understand what goes on sometimes. First friendly, then mean, high then low, up and down, like a roller coaster ride. And for all you know they could be sketching smileys on your assessment sheet!’
‘Those are probably new HR staff, still young in the business,’ replied Dan. They come at you like a dog at their first chew toy. The older, more experienced ones give you room to relax, make you feel overconfident, before you know it you start blabbing, and that’s how they get to know the real you,’ he said laughing, and they laughed along with him.
‘Talking about confidence, I met this guy once who would ask a question then wouldn’t let me talk because he kept interrupting me every five seconds saying, ‘You’re not confident. You’re not confident. You’re not confident. You’re not confident.’ Like a fucking mantra. He must have said it over a hundred times in that interview’, Dave’s girlfriend said.
‘Same here’, added Mark. ‘Where was that?’
‘Greenfield Energy Systems’
‘October, right?’
‘Yeah’
‘I believe we met the same person. He really pissed me off that I had to set him straight. I’d viewed the company website where it claimed its core values are integrity, trustworthiness, reliability, social and corporate responsibility; words whose meanings can’t be misconstrued. Confidence on the other hand means different things to different people, so it wouldn’t be best to give jobs based on perceived confidence of the applicant. Confidence to do what exactly? To lie like our politicians? I think they are the most confident set of people in the world. In the face of so many obstacles they make unrealistic promises for fools to believe...and look where they’re taking us.
‘Yeah,’ Dave’s girl said. ‘Confidence means different things to different people. To some guys, confidence is seeing a boy and a girl talking... getting the girls attention and taking her away without so much as a ‘hello’ to the guy. No courtesy. I hate people who do that.’
Dan made a joke about it. ‘Hear that Dave? She’s talking about you.’
‘Hmm, say what?’
For some minutes David hadn’t been following the conversation. The remaining three looked up at the TV where David’s eyes had been fixed. A music video filled with ladies dancing intricate steps and vigorous booty-shaking played across the screen. The singer was dressed to the teeth while his dancers were almost naked.
Dave’s girl hissed. ‘All these artistes, shooting music videos their mothers wouldn’t be proud of,’ she said, visibly miffed, as the guys tried unsuccessfully not to laugh. Dan liked her already. He had to get her number so he could keep seeing her after David travelled. Let that be another good thing their visit had done for him.