wehdone sir...

All of them jez dey look the poor boy as hin dey do the WehdoneSir... Falz pele oo, Yu go soon blow

Heromaniaa:
My name is Psalm. Yes, awkward right? But that’s the name my mamma called me when I was born. My Dad had wanted to call me Job, but my mamma would not have it.

“Have you seen any man called Job that wasn’t a carpenter or a bricklayer” she had fired at my dad. “All the people wey dey answer Job na so so suffer suffer!” Mamma certainly hadn’t heard of Steve Jobs (well, after he moved out of the garage). Plus my oldman had suffered much, having lived from hand to mouth since he lost his job thirty years ago, yet his name wasn’t Job. So there was more to suffering than being called an ordinary name.

“Let’s call him David” my mamma had suggested. “It is simple and short. And remember he killed Goliath.”

“David? The man who stole another man’s wife? I can’t call my son David. All the people wey dey answer David too like woman!”


Mamma had thought of it and the lives of a few people bearing David in my neighbourhood had been enough to convince her. In fact two days before I was named, two married men had fought over a woman on the street, and they were both called David.

After much dilly dallying, they called me Psalm. Popsy wasn’t so excited about the name; David and Psalm were like Bobrisky and bleaching - One and the same. But in the end he accepted it. So that was how I got my name, one would think after all the hair-splitting deliberations that gave birth to my name, my name would at least bring me luck. Far from it. I don suffer pass nyash. Yes. I have been peed on, poo on, sat on and what not…

Yesterday was the day kasala burst for my head. I was on my way to an interview. Since 5 years wey I graduate, bros, I never see real job. But that yesterday, something told me that was the end of my job search. My girlfriend had linked me to a friend that had friend who was the GM in a manufacturing company. When I contacted the so called GM, he picked the phone and answered me like a vampire had given him a Mouth Gig.

“Who be rat? He spat out.

“It’s me Psalm. A friend of Sarah, who is a friend to Akpan, your good friend. He said you are the GM of Green food Industries.”

I could hear him chuckling on the other end.

“Werin you wan make I ju for you?” he replied. I was already getting pissed.

“I want to submit my CV to your company. I was told you could help me get a job”

“Bring am tomorrow, I go help you give the GM”

“Are you not the GM?

“Bro e be like say you never ready. I be the Gateman, your friend no tell your friend to tell your friend to tell you?

My jaw dropped. But I had no choice; I tidied my white shirt and dusted my CV. I must get that job the next day...

As early as 8 AM the next day, I set out. My gf had made a delicious afang soup the other night. I quickly heated four wraps of fufu, devoured it and left feeling like a bouncer. It had rained the other night and the bad roads were still muddy. I did my best to avoid reckless drivers from splashing dirty water on me. My best, as usual, was not enough.

A man in a black prado Jeep zoomed past, emptying a pot hole of muddy water on me. I did what any other frustrated man would do.



I boarded a bike and chased after him. Who knows, he could settle me with something tangible. The okadaman was a skillful rider but the prado guy had no chill. After five minutes, I spotted his car parked right in front of my babe’s apartment. Fear catch me like politician wey receive alert from Dasuki. I paid off the bike man and cautiously peeped into my girlfriend’s one room apartment. What I saw shocked me.

Prado guy sat on the edge of the bed grinning like a child who has just got a new toy. My gf was wearing only the white lacy pant I had bought her at Oshodi. She started to twerk like a pole dancer. Then she drew closer to him and began to give him a lap dance.


I couldn’t take it anymore.

She had never given me a lap dance before.

I barged into the room like a herd of buffaloes. Perhaps, I had eaten too much fufu than I should. My blood was hot like ofada stew. I probably should have asked the man who he was or what was going on but at that time I wasn’t thinking. I would’ve given the wrong answer had you asked what my name was.

To cut it short, I grabbed a thick high heeled leather shoe and hit him as many times as I could. I have used that shoe to split coconut before so I knew its potential. My girlfriend jumped and grabbed me from behind, while I tried to wriggle out, Prado guy jumped off like a deer and scurried away. The next I heard was the voooooooom of his car and he was gone.

“You shouldn’t have done that” my girlfriend whispered. “I have something to tell you.”

“Whatever you have to tell me, can wait. I have an interview this morning and I must grab the job”.

“Don’t go, you won’t get the job” she replied.

But I was already on the street. I must get the job.

I got to the office some minutes before nine. A doll faced secretary asked what I had come to do and I told her I had come to take my job. She understood my desperation and checked my name in the appointment book.

“You don’t have an appointment. You have to book an appointment to see the HR.” She replied innocently.

“I have an appointment today. Please could you check one last time?”

While she bent down to crosscheck I tiptoed away and located the interview room. I knocked and entered. It was then I realized why my girlfriend had said I wouldn’t get the job. There were three interviewers sitting across the table in the massive office; two fierce looking ladies and one man with plasters on his face – you guessed right! The Prado guy!

I walked in and sat calmly. Prado guy recognized me. I could see the shock on his face. He stood up instantly like a wasp stung him, grabbed a flower vase close by and shattered it on my head. My vision faded and I blanked out.

When I woke up, my girlfriend and biggie were sitting close to me.
I was lying on my girlfriend’s bed, the same bed where Prado guy had sat. I shuddered.

“Did I get the job?” I asked, unsure of what was happening around me.

My girlfriend replied, “I told you, you won’t get the job.”


It doesn't end here. Click to read the next frustrating episode that drew me closer to my current state of madness. It is titled "scammed." comment below and tell me what you think. Read more http://9jachannel..com.ng/2017/03/diary-of-frustrated-graduate-3.html

Abeg who get rotten bread make him give me make I chop.

Stop spamming the whole thread on Nairaland with your gibberish.
Nice constructive English dough.

bush112:
error

..lol leave bet9ja alone. . dats d booking number for d space m occupying

Nice one..

botad:
Make we fry noodles?

yur ANUSnimous go tell yhu soon.

,,,,,,,,,iam not filing fin'

Babysho:


I have this Natural Ability to identify an OTU just by looking at the person.

Falz na Otu. See his head sef.

Na People like u No dey sabi anything..but dey pesin wey sabi pass una... Mumu....

weh don sir

Heromaniaa:
My name is Psalm. Yes, awkward right? But that’s the name my mamma called me when I was born. My Dad had wanted to call me Job, but my mamma would not have it.

“Have you seen any man called Job that wasn’t a carpenter or a bricklayer” she had fired at my dad. “All the people wey dey answer Job na so so suffer suffer!” Mamma certainly hadn’t heard of Steve Jobs (well, after he moved out of the garage). Plus my oldman had suffered much, having lived from hand to mouth since he lost his job thirty years ago, yet his name wasn’t Job. So there was more to suffering than being called an ordinary name.

“Let’s call him David” my mamma had suggested. “It is simple and short. And remember he killed Goliath.”

“David? The man who stole another man’s wife? I can’t call my son David. All the people wey dey answer David too like woman!”


Mamma had thought of it and the lives of a few people bearing David in my neighbourhood had been enough to convince her. In fact two days before I was named, two married men had fought over a woman on the street, and they were both called David.

After much dilly dallying, they called me Psalm. Popsy wasn’t so excited about the name; David and Psalm were like Bobrisky and bleaching - One and the same. But in the end he accepted it. So that was how I got my name, one would think after all the hair-splitting deliberations that gave birth to my name, my name would at least bring me luck. Far from it. I don suffer pass nyash. Yes. I have been peed on, poo on, sat on and what not…

Yesterday was the day kasala burst for my head. I was on my way to an interview. Since 5 years wey I graduate, bros, I never see real job. But that yesterday, something told me that was the end of my job search. My girlfriend had linked me to a friend that had friend who was the GM in a manufacturing company. When I contacted the so called GM, he picked the phone and answered me like a vampire had given him a Mouth Gig.

“Who be rat? He spat out.

“It’s me Psalm. A friend of Sarah, who is a friend to Akpan, your good friend. He said you are the GM of Green food Industries.”

I could hear him chuckling on the other end.

“Werin you wan make I ju for you?” he replied. I was already getting pissed.

“I want to submit my CV to your company. I was told you could help me get a job”

“Bring am tomorrow, I go help you give the GM”

“Are you not the GM?

“Bro e be like say you never ready. I be the Gateman, your friend no tell your friend to tell your friend to tell you?

My jaw dropped. But I had no choice; I tidied my white shirt and dusted my CV. I must get that job the next day...

As early as 8 AM the next day, I set out. My gf had made a delicious afang soup the other night. I quickly heated four wraps of fufu, devoured it and left feeling like a bouncer. It had rained the other night and the bad roads were still muddy. I did my best to avoid reckless drivers from splashing dirty water on me. My best, as usual, was not enough.

A man in a black prado Jeep zoomed past, emptying a pot hole of muddy water on me. I did what any other frustrated man would do.



I boarded a bike and chased after him. Who knows, he could settle me with something tangible. The okadaman was a skillful rider but the prado guy had no chill. After five minutes, I spotted his car parked right in front of my babe’s apartment. Fear catch me like politician wey receive alert from Dasuki. I paid off the bike man and cautiously peeped into my girlfriend’s one room apartment. What I saw shocked me.

Prado guy sat on the edge of the bed grinning like a child who has just got a new toy. My gf was wearing only the white lacy pant I had bought her at Oshodi. She started to twerk like a pole dancer. Then she drew closer to him and began to give him a lap dance.


I couldn’t take it anymore.

She had never given me a lap dance before.

I barged into the room like a herd of buffaloes. Perhaps, I had eaten too much fufu than I should. My blood was hot like ofada stew. I probably should have asked the man who he was or what was going on but at that time I wasn’t thinking. I would’ve given the wrong answer had you asked what my name was.

To cut it short, I grabbed a thick high heeled leather shoe and hit him as many times as I could. I have used that shoe to split coconut before so I knew its potential. My girlfriend jumped and grabbed me from behind, while I tried to wriggle out, Prado guy jumped off like a deer and scurried away. The next I heard was the voooooooom of his car and he was gone.

“You shouldn’t have done that” my girlfriend whispered. “I have something to tell you.”

“Whatever you have to tell me, can wait. I have an interview this morning and I must grab the job”.

“Don’t go, you won’t get the job” she replied.

But I was already on the street. I must get the job.

I got to the office some minutes before nine. A doll faced secretary asked what I had come to do and I told her I had come to take my job. She understood my desperation and checked my name in the appointment book.

“You don’t have an appointment. You have to book an appointment to see the HR.” She replied innocently.

“I have an appointment today. Please could you check one last time?”

While she bent down to crosscheck I tiptoed away and located the interview room. I knocked and entered. It was then I realized why my girlfriend had said I wouldn’t get the job. There were three interviewers sitting across the table in the massive office; two fierce looking ladies and one man with plasters on his face – you guessed right! The Prado guy!

I walked in and sat calmly. Prado guy recognized me. I could see the shock on his face. He stood up instantly like a wasp stung him, grabbed a flower vase close by and shattered it on my head. My vision faded and I blanked out.

When I woke up, my girlfriend and biggie were sitting close to me.
I was lying on my girlfriend’s bed, the same bed where Prado guy had sat. I shuddered.

“Did I get the job?” I asked, unsure of what was happening around me.

My girlfriend replied, “I told you, you won’t get the job.”


It doesn't end here. Click to read the next frustrating episode that drew me closer to my current state of madness. It is titled "scammed." comment below and tell me what you think. Read more http://9jachannel..com.ng/2017/03/diary-of-frustrated-graduate-3.html

Abeg who get rotten bread make him give me make I chop.

Your story is very captivating... Impressive

ANTONINEUTRON:
Your Bible Said

"don't judge others .........."

which bible?
And who told you I av a bible?

if na so dem d play ball Ball for d cry

Lol

youngest85:
Only thieves hangout with thieves

Are you the thief ?

youngest85:
Only thieves hangout with thieves

That you are a child doesn't mean you should just type any bunkum your cranium fathoms

i no d slaves wil nt lyk dix, mk una live falz he say he wan show talet,

youngest85:
Only thieves hangout with thieves

you are such a coward

pls help me ask pinnick if he is d one joggling d ball or d ball is jogging him

DozieInc:
I know say Falz no sabi play ball.
WehDoneSir.

sometimes we dey play 5aside for police college

SpaxeX:

sometimes we dey play 5aside for police college

Baller! I know say you be skippo.

DozieInc:

Baller! I know say you be skippo.