bakynes:
Na female bosses worse pass, i always go to my desk even as a grown up man to weep my eyes out. She sure knows how to dehumanize her staffs with her mouth,thats why it pays to work in an organization with board of directors and share holders not one man business called Company. Whether owned by Nigerians, Chinese, lebanese or Indians.

Ecoterrorist:
Im sorry its dicey replying pm here because a lot of people want my head on the chopping block so i protect my privacy.


Thanks for the understanding. We can still discuss here or i will recommend someone to you that will never ever reveal my identity

Braggante:
The office is in Lekki, the ninth floor of a fifteen storey building, and that's where the administrative works for the enterprise is done. We are a real estate development company we build and sell and sometimes lease out luxury apartments. The income is tidy, for the owner of the company. He is the reason I’m writing this.
He is a rich guy, extremely arrogant and does not care about his staff. When I say extremely arrogant, I mean he is rude with it. So here’s a typical scenario, which has become somewhat normal to Staff. You are enjoying your day so far; just around mid-afternoon, when you hear your name bellowed in the passageway by the voice you now know to dread. "Tunde! Where is Tunde".
You adjust your tie and step out as quickly as you can, knowing that delay will result in abuses. You step out, and as he sees you, then he shuts his door behind him. You hurry along, while your co-workers pop their heads out of their door to see the look of a dead-man-walking.
His office is ice cold, and you wonder why your ac in your office makes a lot of noise for nothing. Here you won’t hear the ac complain, you just feel it. Like I feel it now, in the ostentatiously decorated office. I stand a few feet from the door, still afar from his large desk. To the right stands a huge portrait of himself, gazing down on you, and even though you are not looking at it, you can feel his stare. He is on the phone now, talking loudly to an old friend. He laughs and says his goodbye. Dropping the phone on his empty desk, his face changes immediately he sees you.
‘Are you daft?’ he says. That’s not a question, and so you needn’t answer. Answering might be disrespectful.
‘I’m sorry sir?’ you say, your hands still held behind your back, as you start to sweat.
‘Are you deaf?’
‘No sir’, you reply promptly, not knowing if it was a question or not.
‘Did you not see me on the phone? Are you so stupid that you don’t know that you should wait outside till I call you in?’
To that you keep silent. He looks at you as if his stares will rip you into shreds.
‘Are you not the one I’m talking to?’ he barks.
Now let’s take a pause here. You remember when you were doing your interview? When he sat in the middle, and didn’t say a word and you felt you had impressed him? You remember how he nodded every now and then, and you knew he was the boss with his bow-tie and expensive wristwatch, you recollect? That was a month ago. You had thought you’d do all you can and he will be impressed with your work. Well, doesn’t he look different now? Don’t you just regret sending your CV here in the first place? Okay, let’s get back.
So he’s still staring at you, his stare colder than the blistering ac. ‘I’m sorry sir,’ you say.
‘Shut up!’ he says with the top of his nose. ‘What document did you request for? The MD said he has given you a copy already, so what else is it you are asking for?’
‘We need it to send it to the bank for the-‘, you are saying.
‘Are you deaf?’ he cuts in. ‘I said he has given you. Are you stupid?!’
Now pause. At this point, you are close to breaking in tears. Not because this here man is shouting at you, or that even though you are talking in a low respectful tone, he speaks so that the whole building can hear how stupid you are, no that’s not why you want to break down. And it’s not because all of a sudden your tie is choking the life out of you, or that you haven’t had the opportunity to eat all day even though you have black coffee splashing around in your stomach and you can bet it runs through your veins. It’s because you haven’t been paid for last month and it’s the 20th already. No, it’s not about the money. It’ about honour, dignity; it’s about getting a fair compensation for your hard work. No scratch all that, it is about the forking money. Else there’s no difference between us and the slaves on plantations.
‘I don’t have it sir,’ I say.
Then he stares at me for eternity. I swallowed hard, avoiding his eyes. My legs are weak now.
‘Okay you can go’ he says, as if he’s had just enough of me and I was fouling the air. 'I said get out. Get out.' He waves his hand as if to wave off a pesky fly.
A wise man once said there is the permissible fifteen minutes of madness in every man’s day. The wise man? Me. So I’ve carved fifteen minutes out of every day to do something stupid; something I want to regret much later.
‘Are you done?’ say I.
‘What?’ he replies, befuddlement on his face.
‘I was just asking if you are done, you rat face.’
He was silent. His jaw drops, lips partly open.
‘Do you know just how bland you sound? Are you really this irritating, or you pretend to be? Do you sometimes stop to listen to the crap that actually comes out of your mouth? Do you-‘
‘Are you mad? Get out of my office!’ he yells. ‘Get out of my building! You are-‘
‘Fork you, I quit, you forking arrogant selfish bastard!
He stands up and walks towards me with determination. As soon as he gets close enough, I swing out a punch, meets him right on the jaw. I hear it click. He yells and falls to the floor, writhing. 'why?' he asks.
'Give me my salary first, you forker!'
Then I drag him to the metal safe under his table, and order him to open it.’

‘Yes sir,’ I say with a bow, and walk out.
That could have been my fifteen minutes, to talk back at The Man, to live, to be free, to start my own path as an entrepreneur...but I am in Nigeria where The Man knows you have no choice but to remain on his plantation, and a thousand more are gunning for your post and as soon as you leave, CVs will start rolling in. There may be nothing for you out there, so this was not that fifteen minutes of madness; no, it is not yet time. Will the time ever come?
I get back to my table, relieve the grip of my tie, fold my cuffs and get back to my slave labour.

Lexit:
I can very well relate with the OP. Bro, keep maintaining your cool. Dont ever allow that 15 minutes madness. It may Hunt you for life. All the same, be on the look out for another job. It could be suicidal working for a horrible boss.

BTW, I love your narration coupled with its good mastery of English!

ministeriallist:
I want to believe you are talking about a real situation.
Let me tell you the truth: the greatest injustice a man would do to himself is to stick to a job that enslaves him.
Am very sure this MD would choke your schedule so u don't have time to seek another job or request for days off to attend an interview.
Freedom is never given. It is fought/struggled for. I had such experience in my first job in Abuja. The MD was very rude just like the one described here. I simply quit the job n got something else later. Today I am enjoying my freedom.
You don't need to carry anybody in your office along as some sell-out will definitely betray u. Pray and make your decision alone. You don't need to be abusive but humble.

bakynes:
Na female bosses worse pass, i always go to my desk even as a grown up man to weep my eyes out. She sure knows how to dehumanize her staffs with her mouth,thats why it pays to work in an organization with board of directors and share holders not one man business called Company. Whether owned by Nigerians, Chinese, lebanese or Indians. I

chival1960:
trust me it's real. And this act is increasing by the day. This same people will hold seminars and work shop motivating people only to find out they are not a motivation themselves. I have worked with bosses of such Nature,but in all I learnt to be calm in all of which they found it annoying it wasn't easy but I tried and when I had my full I left! I got the experience I needed out kapish!I bounced. See when you become a boss of your own you will learn to treat people right cos of your experience.

Cutehector:
Mcheeeeeeeeeew...



I told d bastard I quit! To his face!



If una like make una dey do humble humble..

Braggante:
The office is in Lekki, the ninth floor of a fifteen storey building, and that's where the administrative works for the enterprise is done. We are a real estate development company we build and sell and sometimes lease out luxury apartments. The income is tidy, for the owner of the company. He is the reason I’m writing this.
He is a rich guy, extremely arrogant and does not care about his staff. When I say extremely arrogant, I mean he is rude with it. So here’s a typical scenario, which has become somewhat normal to Staff. You are enjoying your day so far; just around mid-afternoon, when you hear your name bellowed in the passageway by the voice you now know to dread. "Tunde! Where is Tunde".
You adjust your tie and step out as quickly as you can, knowing that delay will result in abuses. You step out, and as he sees you, then he shuts his door behind him. You hurry along, while your co-workers pop their heads out of their door to see the look of a dead-man-walking.
His office is ice cold, and you wonder why your ac in your office makes a lot of noise for nothing. Here you won’t hear the ac complain, you just feel it. Like I feel it now, in the ostentatiously decorated office. I stand a few feet from the door, still afar from his large desk. To the right stands a huge portrait of himself, gazing down on you, and even though you are not looking at it, you can feel his stare. He is on the phone now, talking loudly to an old friend. He laughs and says his goodbye. Dropping the phone on his empty desk, his face changes immediately he sees you.
‘Are you daft?’ he says. That’s not a question, and so you needn’t answer. Answering might be disrespectful.
‘I’m sorry sir?’ you say, your hands still held behind your back, as you start to sweat.
‘Are you deaf?’
‘No sir’, you reply promptly, not knowing if it was a question or not.
‘Did you not see me on the phone? Are you so stupid that you don’t know that you should wait outside till I call you in?’
To that you keep silent. He looks at you as if his stares will rip you into shreds.
‘Are you not the one I’m talking to?’ he barks.
Now let’s take a pause here. You remember when you were doing your interview? When he sat in the middle, and didn’t say a word and you felt you had impressed him? You remember how he nodded every now and then, and you knew he was the boss with his bow-tie and expensive wristwatch, you recollect? That was a month ago. You had thought you’d do all you can and he will be impressed with your work. Well, doesn’t he look different now? Don’t you just regret sending your CV here in the first place? Okay, let’s get back.
So he’s still staring at you, his stare colder than the blistering ac. ‘I’m sorry sir,’ you say.
‘Shut up!’ he says with the top of his nose. ‘What document did you request for? The MD said he has given you a copy already, so what else is it you are asking for?’
‘We need it to send it to the bank for the-‘, you are saying.
‘Are you deaf?’ he cuts in. ‘I said he has given you. Are you stupid?!’
Now pause. At this point, you are close to breaking in tears. Not because this here man is shouting at you, or that even though you are talking in a low respectful tone, he speaks so that the whole building can hear how stupid you are, no that’s not why you want to break down. And it’s not because all of a sudden your tie is choking the life out of you, or that you haven’t had the opportunity to eat all day even though you have black coffee splashing around in your stomach and you can bet it runs through your veins. It’s because you haven’t been paid for last month and it’s the 20th already. No, it’s not about the money. It’ about honour, dignity; it’s about getting a fair compensation for your hard work. No scratch all that, it is about the forking money. Else there’s no difference between us and the slaves on plantations.
‘I don’t have it sir,’ I say.
Then he stares at me for eternity. I swallowed hard, avoiding his eyes. My legs are weak now.
‘Okay you can go’ he says, as if he’s had just enough of me and I was fouling the air. 'I said get out. Get out.' He waves his hand as if to wave off a pesky fly.
A wise man once said there is the permissible fifteen minutes of madness in every man’s day. The wise man? Me. So I’ve carved fifteen minutes out of every day to do something stupid; something I want to regret much later.
‘Are you done?’ say I.
‘What?’ he replies, befuddlement on his face.
‘I was just asking if you are done, you rat face.’
He was silent. His jaw drops, lips partly open.
‘Do you know just how bland you sound? Are you really this irritating, or you pretend to be? Do you sometimes stop to listen to the crap that actually comes out of your mouth? Do you-‘
‘Are you mad? Get out of my office!’ he yells. ‘Get out of my building! You are-‘
‘Fork you, I quit, you forking arrogant selfish bastard!
He stands up and walks towards me with determination. As soon as he gets close enough, I swing out a punch, meets him right on the jaw. I hear it click. He yells and falls to the floor, writhing. 'why?' he asks.
'Give me my salary first, you forker!'
Then I drag him to the metal safe under his table, and order him to open it.’

‘Yes sir,’ I say with a bow, and walk out.
That could have been my fifteen minutes, to talk back at The Man, to live, to be free, to start my own path as an entrepreneur...but I am in Nigeria where The Man knows you have no choice but to remain on his plantation, and a thousand more are gunning for your post and as soon as you leave, CVs will start rolling in. There may be nothing for you out there, so this was not that fifteen minutes of madness; no, it is not yet time. Will the time ever come?
I get back to my table, relieve the grip of my tie, fold my cuffs and get back to my slave labour.

Beowulf:
Reading the OP really made me sad and brought back very painful memories. Nigerian employers are mean especially one man businesses. The worst of them all in my opinion are law firms!! They are just so terrible. They will deduct your tax and pensions but never remit them. Don't tell me I am a lawyer and that I should report them. It is not that cut and dried. In my last place of work, I was one of the top lawyers in there but saw the treatment other people received. In fact before I became valued, it was hell for me. Sometimes, my immediate boss will talk to me so badly I will go into the men's room and cry hot tears! Grown chap like me. Sometimes I would go into the restroom and look at myself in the mirror and pysche myself up. I would tell myself that I am that same guy that made the best result in my Uni class, that left law school with a good grade, that has an Oxbridge law degree and I cannot just become dumb overnight!

What I did was to bide my time, some staff left and there were very few people to do the work and that was when they saw my value. In no time they promoted me but I never forgot that ill-treatment and I saw it being dished out to others. I had my gameplan and I kept applying for jobs. I got a job in a foreign law firm and I couldn't believe the pay nor the job. I simply told my former employers that my time was up and they were so livid. You needed to see abuses that would make a motor-park tout blush coming from the lips of lawyers who went to good schools and are well respected in the society. I was called all sorts of names just because I decided to better myself! Unbelievable! These were people I worked 247 for! There were countless nights I spent in the office and wouldn't leave the office anytime before 8pm! I would work most weekends either at the office or remotely from home. But I thank God for seeing me through and I work in a world class firm where you are treated like a human being and appreciated all round.

My tip to anyone going through this kind of thing: Keep your head up, Don't believe the label they tag you with, You are better than what they say you are, You are a better person than they are, Hold on and be strong, Believe in God (whatever your understanding of him is) and ask for his help, If you don't believe in God think positive thoughts, Don't ever let your head drop! One day, our ships will come home.

LuveU2:
This would be handled when we start putting national interest above personal interest.

When we
start looking out for our brothers, sisters, neighbours, and other Nigerians.

But we are a selfish people that only care when we are invovled. Too bad.

ocheejemb:
Oxbridge? as per Oxford or Cambridge? What were you doing in an office like that then?