In my own case i can login, but i can't start. Same issue i had last week. Its just so frustrating abeg. Just raised our hopes for nothing

Please guys Is PEF recruiting and giving letters?
Does anyone know someone who was actually recruited recently or it’s just hearsay?
Thanks

Mosesibb:


We plan to move on Tuesday after the holiday on Monday

Please i am down to move. where can i meet up with you guys?

.

Roots TV Nigeria, an online media company in Abuja is hiring content writers. Deadline is November 4th 2019

I did it with my PC. its a long test, so make sure your internet connection is solid

Acrobatics01:


Please did you do with phone or PC?

same here. lost 1 animal at each round

odi104:


Ah, the quiz, first try, only 1 animal was eaten, second try i made a mistake and only 1 animal got eaten too

no mail here either

Johnzzy:

No mail yet. We wait.

i'm currently on it. its really long. The questions aren't difficult though

Mela14:


Who has taken their 3hours online assessment questionnaire

i think what is hanging the browser is the 'professional certification' you chose in qualifications. i simply applied with another email address and this time i chose not to add professional certification. it went through

babatundea877:



Same here., pls who has gone past this stage?

same here. been here for hours

babatundea877:



Same here., pls who has gone past this stage?

what browser did you use? i've been trying and its not working

Adephemmy300:


Na wa for una o... una no go verify something first.. Something that I entered once and registered just few minutes ago..

what browser are you guys using to apply?

even with internet explorer. its still not workimg

i've been trying the website. it's still down. anyone have any luck?

I thought the aptitude test went well, apart from the abstract reasoning, which i really struggled with. No pie charts, no bar graphs (which i was already prepared for). Comprehension passages weren't nearly as long as dragnets. Defintely a lot easier than dragnet's test.That timer was just flying though

henry50:
How's the exam guys..
Be truthful.

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Kicking, screaming and largely against my will, i was shipped off to England at the tender age of 15 for college/A-levels. Most of my counterparts were sporting admissions into UNILAG, Covenant, Babcok and naturally i wanted to attend those schools.

In the opinion of my parents, Bless their souls, sending me abroad would give me access to world class education and set me up for a lifetime of great career opportunities. They wanted me to be outstanding at any cost. My move to England was trailed by wistful gasps of ‘you’re very lucky’ by friends and adoring glances by class mates who badly wished they were me. I was a truly lucky girl…or so i thought

An undergraduate degree, masters degree and a lot of years later, i am finally sitting on the other side of the foreign education fence and i can say without a doubt that everything is not what it seems and contrary to popular belief, a foreign degree is not the golden ticket to fame, fortune and a guaranteed seat at the table, that it is assumed to be in the Nigerian job/careers market.

As a product of a very middle class family, unlike most of my contemporaries who were privileged to study abroad, there were no summer vacations to the South of France or Weekends in Paris with the girls or Fancy designer clothes or business class trips; Every penny was well and truly spent on my academics.

The entire cost of my fancy British education, came to an estimated £100,000 (translating to upwards of ₦50 Million), excluding the cost of accommodation, books and other living costs. ₦50 Million is not chicken change by any standard. It can buy you a really really nice house in a choice area, start up a large scale business, yield groundbreaking returns if invested right, buy a fancy car and a pretty decent lifestyle. So, why spend that much on an education alone?

In the words of the phenomenal Benjamin Franklin, “If a man empties his purse into his head, nobody can take it away from him. An investment in knowledge always pays the best interest”.

Education is a major pillar of the Nigerian Society. Countries like the UK, have perfected the idea of Educational Tourism, hence, hundreds of thousands of Nigerian hopefuls troop to the UK annually to get a British education, damning the exorbitant cost. The UK has done such a good job of convincing the world that a degree from their country gives you the keys to the world, so much so that on average, International students are now worth more than £25 billion annually to the British economy.

Armed with my foreign certificates and a head full of dreams, i arrived Nigeria, eager to start adulting. Job application after job application, ‘send me your CV’ after ‘send me your CV’, an endless trail of cover letters, prayers after prayers, 100+ job applications and countless emails later, i have concluded that the key to achieving career success in Nigeria is as far from a foreign degree as you can come, at entry level at least.

I discovered that at entry level in Nigeria, with the exception of the lucky few who get jobs purely on merit, the 2 (two) major keys to securing a good entry level job in Nigeria are:

An Average to Excellent first degree from ‘any’ university. Emphasis on the word ‘Any’. Which simply translates to: You can sit at home for years, with your 1st Class foreign degree waiting for your dream job, While your neighbor with a 2.1 or even a 2.2 from University of Abuja will resume work at NNPC, 2 weeks after graduation. E dey happen.

The Right Connections/network (professional, personal & most importantly political), Your network is truly your net-worth in the Nigerian Job Market.

It really is that simple.

A standard entry level job placement in Nigeria, recieves an average of 2000+ job applications weekly. With the more popular/sought after organisations and NGO’s, that number drastically goes up. The supply for jobs is not meeting the demand by a mile.

If you throw 20 stones in the middle of a ‘millennial’ gathering on Lagos Island, odds are that at least 2 of those stones will hit a foreign degree holder.

Thus, a foreign degree, especially from the UK, US & Canada, is no longer the novelty it one was. You will struggle for employment and opportunities with the same intensity, success/failure rate as your home schooled counterparts. I will also add that foreign degrees are more valued in the Private Sector/ Multinationals/ International NGOs, while also stating that the sheer volume of job applications received per position, makes it difficult for you stand out simply based on your alma mater or class of degree.

So, in a nutshell and in my humble opinion the cost of a foreign degree does not in any way justify its benefits.

On the other hand however, i would be doing a great disservice, if i don’t state that a foreign degree is not without its pros:

Access to world class/international network
International exposure and awareness
A broader world view
Good quality education, which gives you very strong independent thinking, critical analysis and research skills that will come in handy when you eventually get the job
University alumni activities that allow you fraternize with the best of the best & gain access to opportunities
A respected degree, as most employers are aware that foreign degrees more likely than not, give an accurate depiction of the knowledge of its owner, as opposed to Nigerian degrees, where degrees are haunted with allegations of ‘money for marks’ or ‘sex for marks’ or plagiarised projects and a host of other shortcomings.

So, do you believe a foreign degree is worth its cost in the Nigerian Job Market?

YellowIboGirl
Read more: https://yellowibogirl./

DivineKayy:

I hope you've received a positive feedback?

I was also interviewed for the entry level role, but in Abuja, on the same date. Yet to receive any feedback. Others who also did the interview with me, are yet to receive any feedback. The whole thing is getting so funny.

Abeg NSE should go and rest. They barely ever respond to job applications, even months after, yet they keep churning out new positions. No test, no interview. Its only GT applications they have responded to in recent times. I don't even bother anymore.

One of the Greatest weapons in the Arsenal of the modern day journalist is sensationalism.

Juicy! Scandalous! Controversial! headlines, garner more readership than good ol’ journalism ever will. So it didn’t come as a shock when the first headline on last night’s network news was ‘Olisa Metuh Slumps’.

A cursory look at the profile of Olisa Metuh is enough to convince even a child that once upon a time, Metuh was a powerful man. A man of timbre and calibre. One of those who were strategically embedded into the political wheel of the Federal Republic of Nigeria. A legal practitioner par excellence and former publicity secretary of the People’s Democratic Party (PDP), the story of Metuh’s fall from favour is indeed one that no Nigerian including Metuh himself could have predicted.

In January 5, 2016, Olisa Metuh was arrested by the Economic and Financial Crimes Commission, EFCC, regarding allegations involving some funds (Arms Deal) said to have been traced to his firm, to the tune of $2 Million andN400 million . And a matter which was initially predicted to be one that will be ruled by the Nigerian factor, where all legal matters involving the political class are conveniently swept under the carpet, has shockingly blossomed into a Two (2) year legal tussle that shows no sign of slowing down without dragging Metuh down for good.

While some are happy that justice is finally being meted out to a prominent member of the political class, another school of thought is convinced that Metuh’s constant meddlesomeness with the toes of the powers that be and his penchant for making bold, boisterous and unguarded statements, earned him his current status as a scape goat of the powers that be. And as they say, those that live in glass houses, should not throw stones.

Be that as it may, images of Metuh slumped on the floor of the court and him being wheeled out of the court room on a stretcher, during his hearing, has made its rounds on the internet and garnered a lot of media brouhaha.

Prior to yesterday, Metuh made a dramatic court appearance on a stretcher on February 5, 2018, after Justice Abang ordered that he show up in court or have his bail revoked. During another court hearing on March 14, 2018, when he appeared on a wheelchair, one of his counsels, Emeka Etiaba (SAN), presented a letter from one Dr. Adrian T.H. Kasey, a neurosurgeon at Wellington Hospital in London, who said Metuh needs to be treated urgently. In his last application, Etiaba, said Metuh had lost sensation in his legs.

Metuh’s story is a direct allusion to Aesop’s Fable ‘The Boy Who Cried Wolf’. The tale concerns a shepherd boy who repeatedly tricks nearby villagers into thinking wolves are attacking his flock. When a wolf actually does appear and the boy again calls for help, the villagers believe that it is another false alarm and the sheep are eaten by the wolf.[/quote

In the case of Metuh, his personal track record and the track record of Nigerian politicians as regards the status of their health once they face corruption charges is making it increasingly difficult to sympathise with him.

His collapse is reminiscent of the theatrics that tend to accompany the trial of prominent Nigerian politicians including:

[quote]Diezani Alison-Madueke – who miraculously got struck by the cancer gods shortly after facing allegations of corruption. Get well soon Ma. In other news, where is Diezani?

Then there was the famous Dino Melaye episode- which saw Dino’s health suddenly deteriorate following corruption allegations. Dino-Melaye-in-stretcher-600x384.jpg

Then there is Sambo Dasuki – whose trial was stalled on multiple occassions, on grounds of ill health.

Then there is Femi Fani-Kayode – whose heart related ailment suddenly became a matter of public knowledge in January 2018, following allegations of fraud.

And the list goes on! Are you observing a pattern here?

If they don’t arrive in a wheel chair, they arrive on a stretcher or arrive the court premises aptly armed with doctor’s reports citing life threatening health conditions.

The problem with these recurring events is that it makes it difficult to actually identify the accused persons with actual health challenges, and those simply trying to make a mockery of the judiciary with baseless fables.

So what is the judiciary to do?

Strictly guard the floodgates or run the risk of leaving the floodgates open to unscrupulous accused persons? Grant any accused Nigerian politician who presents a poor bill of health an immediate adjournment and clearance to go seek medical attention abroad? At what point do we draw the line?

How do we ensure the authenticity of a medical report presented before the court? Since it is quite clear that any person of means can produce a medical report citing any health challenge of his choice- if in doubt, ask any youth corp member seeking redeployment how far.

This then begs the question, Is the trial of regular Nigerians easily stalled due to ill health? Or is the ground of ill health only readily available to the political class?

Only time will tell where Olisa Metuh’s fate will lie. May Justice Prevail.

YellowIboGirl
Read more at <https://yellowibogirl./>

I like to believe that women fall into three categories

• The Beyoncé’s: Proper, prim, sexy, dedicated to the weave life, nails on deck, foundation looking on ‘fleek’ all day; while somehow managing to sustain a thriving career.

• The cross between Chimamanda Adichie & Erykah Badu: Natural hair, hippie jewelry, twist out, braid out, ready with a feminist comment for every Bella-Naija article, smart as hell, opinionated about everything, bushy eye-browed & gorgeous in an eccentric way

• And then there’s me. If Chimamanda & Beyoncé had a lovechild, it would be me. Ex-natural (now texlaxed, but hiding under excessively long Peruvians), excessively primped & plucked, composed, well mannered & book smart.

Beyond my education, achievements & accolades, I am in Love with Love & I am one who takes pride in her appearance. A day in these Victoria Island streets is enough to teach you that in fact, PACKAGING IS EVERYTHING. Or nearly everything, at least. Forget what you think you know. Nigerians are very visual creatures, who are seldom interested in the content, if the container is not attractive.

When you see a beautiful woman, what do you see? A perfect woman in her little bubble of perfection. Who doesn’t fart or burp or more importantly, poop.

Somehow, I learned & somehow convinced myself that in the dating game, perfection is the easiest market to sell. The less close to human and the closer you are to ‘superhuman’, the more attractive you are. Unattainable is the new sexy. Alas! Being ‘basic’ is now a crime.

Somehow, I taught myself to live my life, without a single hair, sitting through grueling waxing appointments, screaming at the sight of a single hair or pimple on my face and Worst of all, training my body to believe that it is only socially acceptable to men that women pee. Or better yet, that women bend over a toilet seat and perfumed stars trickle out. I already had the specially orchestrated plan for separate bathrooms, in the event that I do get married or have a live in lover.

I had paid visits to guys/flames in the past and God forbid!!! i poop in their toilet, lest I shatter the illusion that I am a perfect human being. And indeed my ministry was moving, until that fateful July evening. That was the day I met Uzo.

The night I met Uzo, the world stopped. And then started again.

Thick, statuesque, complete with the composure of ten kings combined & then there was that dress. The Red One. That struggled to contain my curves. The one I specially chose for those nights I was in the mood to cause a ruckus. The one that threw all eyes to entrance of Club 20/20, the moment I walked in, flustered from the humidity. Your girl was a vision to behold, if I do say so myself.

I was stared at, admired, mentally undressed, yet, Uzo was the only one who had the balls to walk up to me & ask for my name. Thank God for Hennessy or I would’ve fallen from my barstool �

“I mean, come on. 5ft 11 of well articulated chocolate. What’s not to like? I do admit I like my men a little taller, but Uzo definitely more than made up for it.

One alcohol induced laugh after another, I got comfortable. By the end of the night, we had exchanged numbers and he promised to call.

I was not waiting by the phone or anything. I didn’t even think he was that cute. It was more of an ego thing; his phone call was supposed to be a form of validation. That I still had ‘it’. Maybe he thought I was too fat, I knew he would spot that extra 2kg. Or maybe it was that massive pimple that somehow showed up on my forehead, earlier that day.

One week and a million swear words later, he did call. And we finally went on our perfect date.

After a perfect first date, he became a semi-permanent fixture in my life. I somehow discharged all the side-niggas in my life for him (let me not lie, nearly all. After all it was only the first date).

Any sucker for well made Chinese in the house? Well, I am a sucker for Chinese food. As a used to be IJGB member (I just got back), I had in fact formerly existed in a jurisdiction of bomb ass Chinese food, made by actual Chinese people. LOL. A few years in Lagos had taught me to lower my expectations. And as I’m sure you know, good Chinese don’t come cheap.

By the time Uzo suggested going to a nice Chinese restaurant for our second date, although I was physically composed, I was doing mental backflips.

Time and tide rolled past. And soon enough, we were in the presence of a sumptuous selection of Chinese food, ordered by Uzo himself. I hadn’t actually eaten most of what he ordered before, but in order to not be a bad sport and betray all the ‘polish’ I was exuding, I did not complain.

Some of the food did taste good, while the rest tasted ‘interesting’, to put it politely. But I gobbled on enthusiastically. Gazing into his eyes, chasing it down with Chapman, spiked with some orishirishis (if you know what I mean)

Our meal somehow came to an end unexpectedly early, so we decided to go see a movie at Uzo’s, to kill time. (Get your minds out of the gutter children; we actually wanted to see a movie)

The drive to Uzo’s apartment was filled with loud chatter & the familiar banter of long-term friends. Even the traffic couldn’t deter us that night.

Soon we were at his apartment. Nothing too fancy. Clean. Very Artsy. An actual well stocked bookshelf. Flat screen & Play station (rolls eyes).

While he ran around to connect his laptop to the TV, that was when I first felt it. The uncomfortable, faint buzzing sound, emanating from my tummy. I found a way to convince myself that it was my food ‘digesting’.

And so I sat there, primped & poised to the nines.

20 minutes into the movie, he had somehow found his way from his side of the couch to mine. And we somehow, ended up in the cuddle position. That was when the second buzzing sound, came through.

Like wasn’t the food done digesting?

35 minutes into the movie and my tummy had gone from uncomfortable to painful. And just as he leaned in to give me, what should have been our official first kiss, it was like a tap opened and I sprinted for the loo.

Goodness God. That my friends, was the most embarrassing moment of my entire life. While I sat there, wishing the toilet would just open and swallow me, Uzo was at the other side of the door offering his assistance, in the event that I should need it. I was basically moaning like a wounded animal.

You would think God would have mercy on me and put an end to my misery, but there were in fact, three more trips to the toilet in his apartment.

And you would not believe it; he did not disappear into a puff of smoke or look at me ‘differently’. He spent the rest of the time I was at his apartment trying to make me comfortable, and even took a brief trip to the pharmacy to get me some drugs.

By the time he took me back to my house, I was a mess. Disheveled, No makeup (I had to take a shower, to attempt to wash away the stench of my disgrace), weave hung like a wet rag on my head, smudged eye liner, with a cloak of stark raving embarrassment to boot.

My plan was simple, go home and pretend he doesn’t exist. Much better than waiting for his call, that was definitely not going to ever come.

Right there in front of my house, as I leaned in to give him the most awkward goodnight hug ever, our first kiss happened. And yes, sparks flew. It was magic.

And oh; he did call. And he called again, and again, and again.

BUTTTT; we did have a good run. We didn’t get married or make beautiful Igbo babies together. It did end, eventually.

However, the moral lesson of the story is this, Perfection is a brand, it is a myth.

A standard unattainable by the same people marketing it.

Own your flaws,

Own your imperfections,

Own your humanity.

Its your superpower!

Read More at: [url][/url]https://thesmartsinglenigerianwoman.

As a young practicing Christian, who is by no means devoid of other sins, the one sin that has been a cause of constant worry for me is pre-marital sex.

In reality, I could wake up one morning and give up drinking, give up the occasional puff of ‘loud’, love my neighbor, avoid lying and the rest. But celibacy? That’s another story.

I am an individual who lives her life in full consciousness of the fact that life is temporary. Death is inevitable. And Heaven and Hell are very much real. A lot of the pleasures that we currently seek are temporary.

I understand the fact that chasing an eternal crown of glory is a much better way to spend one’s time than chasing five minutes of pleasure with an individual you most likely are not going to settle down with.

A part of me always worries that if something happened to me and I lost my life, I would arrive at the gate of Heaven and Angel Gabriel would read out all my good deeds and the 1001 reasons my Father in heaven is pleased with me, only to follow the list with a massive “BUT”.

“Remember last week, when you were bent over the table, in X’s office?”

“Remember one month ago, when you were canoodling with that your ex boyfriend, in that expensive hotel in Abuja?”

Then I would be banished to the eternal flames of Hell for eternity, simply because I couldn’t keep my legs closed.

The Bible is clear on premarital sex. There is no “but”. No exception to the rule.

You are only better off health wise & reputation wise, if you only indulge in sex within a relationship. However, at the end of the day, whether it’s a one-night stand or a night with your boyfriend, you are still committing a sin if you are not married. But we live in a time when, even those who aren’t promiscuous are sharing their bodies with their boyfriends and girlfriends. A committed relationship automatically comes with a side of hot steamy afternoon debauchery with said committed partner.

With all this in mind, I want you to judge whether my friend would have been better off saving herself for marriage and marrying this guy or trying out the merchandise before marriage. I mean, it is not a toy, it’s not like you can return it. This is a true-life story.

Funlola is 26. She is single and searching, somehow born-again (lol), has a great job and a crowded CV. She is dark-skinned, bold, brash and very beautiful. The dating streets had not been kind to Lola, as we fondly called her. Like the rest of us, she had focused on school and her career and somehow convinced herself that by 25, a husband would magically appear and walk her down the aisle.

Well, guess what? 26 was well and truly here, and there was still no sign of the much sought after husband. What everybody fails to tell you is that, the closer you inch to 30, the more you realize that you’re competing with leggy, thinner 23-year-olds, who are still fun, care-free and don not come with a side of “Where is this relationship headed?” or “You know my biological clock is ticking!”. You’re competing, and losing woefully.

I know you are about to say marriage isn’t everything, but when you have everything you could ever want at a particular stage in life, you start to crave the things you don’t have, like marriage and, more importantly, companionship.

Maybe God had finally gotten tired of her whining, but on that fateful Sunday afternoon, just as she danced to the altar to deposit her tithe, their eyes met. Ore. What better place to meet the man of your dreams, than in the house of God. She had no doubt at the back of her mind, that God had orchestrated this meeting. Ore was perfect on paper. God-fearing, patient, hard working, from a decent family. And yes, he was fine. More importantly, he wasn’t sexually pushy.

Five months into their relationship, the most they had done was a less-than-steamy make out session which he cut short before it had a chance to blossom into anything else. Initially, it felt like she was back in her second year of university. Since she became sexually active, she had never dated a guy without going all the way.

She did worry that perhaps he wasn’t that into her. Normally, she was used to the guy initiating sex, and then having to play the role of holding him back. This time, nothing. As her friends however, we felt she had absolutely nothing to worry about. He was perfect; he showed no signs of wandering. Perhaps it was for religious reasons he wasn’t that sexual. One of my girls sympathetically offered that he was probably saving it for marriage. So she soldiered on, on her involuntary journey towards celibacy.

By the sixth month, still nothing. After a dinner date, that somehow rounded off with one too many cocktails, she decided to make her move. When they got into his car, she pounced. And to her utter surprise, he responded. 20 minutes of intense making out, and no hard-on. Then suddenly he stopped and mumbled something about rushing home to tidy up some things. Again, things ended. Yet again, she went home unsatisfied and feeling unattractive. She wasn’t Beyoncé or anything, but this was a first for her. It never even required a full-blown make out session, to get the sails up. Maybe he wasn’t that into her after all.

That weekend she decided to try again. And this time, he stopped her, sat up, held both hands and came clean. It turned out the sails just couldn’t go up. It had absolutely nothing to do with her. He had seen a doctor and spent a lot of money, all to no avail. He promised her the world. Promised to love & cherish her all the days of his life. He promised to give her everything but sex and, inevitably, children. She said nothing but she knew it was over.

In another six months or so, she could have been marrying this guy thinking she was getting the perfect, sexually pure man of her dreams and shaming the devil. She would have made this major discovery on her wedding night, after she had signed the dotted lines in front of God and family. What would she have done then?

Lola’s story really shook my initial beliefs about premarital sex. What is your take? Would she have been better of marrying him, without any attempts to have sex only to later find him to be sterile? Or was she better off trying the merchandise before marriage, and then finding out that something was wrong before making a life-long commitment?

Read More at: [url][/url]https://thesmartsinglenigerianwoman./

Hello,
i also recieved an invite for a video interview from UBA. But for a different position. Have you done yours? How was the process?

Pls add 08155121537 to the whatsapp group

Hello, Has anyone who applied only via email to Seplat recruitment, received an interview invitation?