Nice! I LOVE THAT SONG

A friend approached me to say she had a brilliant idea on how I can get rich quickly.
She was going to give me a new range of consumer products that sells thrice the cost price. I asked if that is all and she explained that it was some sort of ladder marketing.
The more sellers I introduce under the scheme, the higher my profit…eventually, I will be eligible for perks like a fancy car and a trip to Dubai or the Caribbeans. As much as one of my aspirations for this year is to travel outside Nigeria even if it’s Cotonou, I started walking away.

You see, I have had a bitter experience with this multi-level marketing, network marketing or whatever it is called and I swore seven years ago never to involve myself again no matter how desperate I get.
Eight years ago, my family literally invested all we had in one IFFA multilevel marketing scheme that operated under the umbrella of Diamond Bank. That was when I first heard of multi-level marketing and my dad thought the idea was genius. Who wouldn’t when the package came with a customised debit card for each participant to cash out their ‘millions of naira’ months later.
We sold most of our shares in the stock market to fund this and introduced everybody we knew to our ‘tree’.
I remember when a rich uncle gave me my twenty thousand naira and my dad used all of it to get the IFFA forms so I could issue out to my classmates.

We spent weekends attending nerve-racking motivational rallies held by the stinking rich organisers of IFFA who rode on the ignorance of people like us to get to where they are. By the time the scales fell from our eyes, we had lost all we had including the goodwill of those we introduced. All we had left were thousands of IFFA registration forms we were now using to wrap melon seeds at home and debit cards littered like a pack of cards around the house. And where were the so -called organisers?
London, today;
Paris, tomorrow;
America during the weekend;
Because they worked hard and persevered unlike our lazy asses.

That was how a friend I met during NYSC told me on the day of POP that he is going to stay behind in the village he served to sell coffee under one multi level marketing scheme!
He was trying to convince me to stay and join the coffee scheme too since my house rent had a 2-year expiration period.
That was a 2’1 graduate of Electrical Engineering who started his service year with an aspiration of working with a multinational company and he’s was just going to abandon that beautiful dream to sell bitter coffee after he had been brainwashed.
I mean who even drinks coffee in Nigeria? Talk more of rural areas? I don’t know the story ended cos I cut off friendship with him after NYSC to avoid post POP stories that touch the heart and soul.
Same way I feel about GNLD and co. I don’t mean to knock anyone’s hustle but I refuse to be swayed by the vacation photos on Instagram of those who hammered by networking others 2000 years ago.
Never ever!
Currently, anyone who approaches my family house and mentions the words, ‘network marketing’ or ‘multi-level stands the risk of being stoned to death.
What are your experiences with multi-level marketing?



http://www.naijasinglegirl.com/multi-level-marketing-nigeria-419/

True

porshuch:
Some will add " Linda if you like don't post my comment, just use it an cook ogbono soup.

The first thing you need to have before you are inducted into Linda Ikeji’s commenters hall of fame is an email address, copied into your clipboard as soon the blog’s homepage is loading because you never know which post Linda might decide to end with:

“My dear LIBers, I am giving away a Birkin bag to the 1st, 38th, 118th, 214th and 336th commenter. Drop your email address. Good luck guys!”

And because Linda has so much money to give, her commenters bear the most disturbing names to get her to notice and favour them.

There is the Linda take note, whose persistence paid off last December.
There is Linda best friend, who is obviously a dreamer.
There is Linda Future Husband, who needs a hard knock on the head.
There is Linda House Girl, whose career ambition is to sweep our Banana Island mansion.
Linda’s daughter who is probably 42 years old.
LIB Addict whose name should be LIB giveaway addict.
Linda pikin.
Linda Ikeji’s first cousin.
I could go on and on.
And then the ones using aliases like Davido’s driver, Don Jazzy’s driver, Wizkid’s friend and Linda Ikeji’s driver.
And finally, the ones that would go under anonymous to curse and then use their regular handles to type altar call messages in the comment box. I’m referring to the self acclaimed bishops, pastors and priesthoods.

These kidults hardly ever have any thing meaningful to contribute to a conversation. It is either they are dropping their email addresses where it is never needed, abusing one another or creating multiple line breaks in their comment to add an irrelevant signature.

Proof with screenshots- http://www.naijasinglegirl.com/linda-ikeji-commenters-behave/

Linda Ikeji’s audience consists of a mix of the upper-upper class who reads & exit AND the lower-lower class who acts like their 3-Square meal is on the blog. This is the reason why opinions on a topic are never aligned. Example, a post on “Fight currently going on in Oshodi” would rake in high comments and a post title like, “Direct Masters & PhD Admission at Lakehead University, Canada” has ‘seen’ comments.

Monosyllabic words used in the comment box by users who are after her giveaways include;
“Noted”
“Okay”
“Hmmm”
“Seen”
“KK seen”
“Okay seen”
“Nice”
“Nice one”
“Lovely”
“Ok”
“Read”
“God bless her”
“God bless him”
“Good for him”
“Good for her”
“Issokay”
“It is well”
“Cool”
“@gmail.com”

The ones who usually have more than three words to comment fall into the following categories below.

The homophobics: Linda dares not upload a photo of a man in a skinny jean, pouting, a disturbing mirror selfie of a celebrity or an Onyx Godwin. They are quick to type,
“Gay fool!!! Anuofia! Buhari is coming for you!”
“All I see is 14 years”
They come alive whenever she post news on a transgender and their greatest enemy is the firewood legged Caitlyn Jenner.

The tribalists: Every now and down, minor civil war goes down between the Igbos and the Yoruba’s in the comment box. They Yorubas come alive whenever Linda reports news on a crime an Igbo has committed and vice versa.
Petty religious arguments also fall under this category.

The critics:
You’d recognise them by the phrase, “LINDA HOW IS THIS NEWS?”
They are usually very bitter and have a problem with 90% of Linda posts. They are quick to point out every lady is bleaching. They are the first to notice when a celebrity is getting fat. They have a problem with PDP & APC. The sight of divorces like Ini Edo and Chika Ike makes them very angry. They occasionally issue warnings to Genevieve, Agbani and Rita Dominic to get married.
Even the madam of the blog is never spared when they run out of people to attack.

The spammers:
These ones are all about selling their markets. Thanks to their html a-tags, they are able to make comments like,

“See what this busty Ekiti girl is doing to a politician in a hotel”
“Imagine small boy spanking yellow secondary school girl with fat thighs (Photos)”
“UNILAG Ladies Fights and strips themselves Naked Over Boyfriend”
“Angel Yetunde releases sexy photos 18+”
“Click here to start making 50k a day from blogging”

I always click the last one


http://www.naijasinglegirl.com/linda-ikeji-commenters-behave/

abimbawealth:
Cc: Naijasinglegirl

I write and he interprets. Lmfao

DJBIGGY:

yea i did

lmfaoooooooo 'yeah I did' abi? Lmaoooooooooooooooooooo. Another Ctrl V blogger

sweetchizzy:
op, e b like say u sef don try that kind parol b4. if not how u take know d game

Cos I eat out a lot. Remember I tried it when I was looking for a bf last year.

I see them all the time in high brow restaurants in Lagos. Usually, they announce their presence in a group of four, three or two in some cases.
Guys reading this, you are part of the problem in Nigeria if you notice the first thirteen signs without approaching their table.

Here we go.

1. They pick the most visible spot in the restaurant to seat.
2. Then study the menu like they are studying for JAMB.
3. It takes roughly thirty minutes to an hour for them to decide an item on the menu they want.
4. And when they do, it’s usually the cheapest. Malt, coke, cranberry juice or orange juice.
5. They take a lot of selfies while waiting for their order. A lot of selfies!
6. They laugh a lot to nothing in particular…and very loud to attract the attention of prospective boyfriends seated.
7. It is common to find them laughing loud one minute and sober the next minute when they feel a potential lead may never approach their table.
8. Their eye lashes looks like they are ready to fly. Heavy makeup is the costume. Pushup bra and waist trainer is the dress code. Add a strappy sandals & ombre wig to that.
9. They are usually with power banks cos they know it’s going to be long wait. And of course, that time can be spent in achieving the next level in Candy Crush.
10. They keep staring around anytime anyone walks in as though they are human drone cameras.
11. They make quick dashes to the rest room every fifteen minutes to remind candidates seated that they are still waiting.
12. And of course, to retouch their lipstick and rearrange the foam in their bra.
13. Accent fluctuates between American, British, and pidgin depending on who is walking past their table.
14. When it’s time to pay for their drinks using POS after an unsuccessful outing, they pull out up to four ATM cards and contribute in fractions like church offerings.


http://www.naijasinglegirl.com/spot-girls-looking-boyfriend-lagos-restaurants/

Dear Nigerian boyfriends

We hope that you and your ATM card are getting ready for Sunday?
In no particular order, below are a list of items we WOULD NO LONGER accept as Valentine day gifts.

BBM BC’s
Whatsapp BC’s
BBM PM Shoutouts
Instagram Woman Crush Sunday.
Romantic sms except it is accompanied with a credit alert.
Card: Soft and hard copies. This is not applicable to recharge cards. Please note the s.
Leaves/Flowers: Fresh, rubber, dried, scented, unscented, cooked and uncooked.
Perfumes from an unnamed designer: That type that stains cloth and produces rashes.
Cheap jewelries made out of copper, steel, zinc and iron.
Cheap chocolates.
Rice & Chicken in Mr Biggs nylon.

However, while we are still saving for your Bentley, we expect that you’d receive your regular valentine pack of a handkerchief, a singlet and a boxer with sincere appreciation as these three items connotes a deep meaning that has more value than silver and gold.
A white handkerchief signifies gratitude. We are indirectly apologising for all the times we made you sweat and thanking you for sticking with us.
All the wonderful things you could use your handkerchief for
You boys never have more than three singlets. This is why we keep adding another one year after year.
We wouldn’t be giving you briefs/boxers if we haven’t envisage a future with you. We care about your body & the packaging of reproductive organs.
Extras of ties and cufflinks, who doesn’t like a perfect gentleman?

In addition to the above, you are expected to observe the following rules from now till 15th February.
– You are not allowed to take any one week impromptu trip to the village to visit your uncle’s brother husband. No fake business trips! No disappearing acts!
– You are advised not to fake any form of terminal disease or sickness. Be warned.
– No bad phone, bad network, bad battery, phone speaker is bad , power button is not working excuses.
– No ‘ATM is not working or card has been blocked’ excuses. You have from now till Friday to register your BVN.
– You are advised to increase your tolerance level for all our excesses. No ‘we should go on a break’ ‘It’s not you, it’s me’ or ‘I have been thinking about this relationship’ speech will be accepted.
– Third service, fourth service, prayer meeting, youth meeting and fasting MUST NOT be used as an excuse come Sunday the 14th.

Please pass to respective parties. We thank you in advance for understanding.

Signed:
By @Naijasinglegirl,
On behalf of girlfriends in Nigeria.

http://www.naijasinglegirl.com/open-letter-nigerian-boyfriends

*sigh* Maybe she's a ghost.

Cutehector:
Chei op u can lie, I thought it was naijasinglegirl d saw dat in iyana ipaja..

Chei..

I was in traffic along Iyana Ipaja and I saw a pawpaw hawker offload his pawpaw, walked over to one side of the road, pulled down his zipper, brought out this wiwi and began scattering urine on the concrete.
He didn’t even care that it was daylight and people were passing. I was seated by the window and I could see his thing in full view. What infuriated me was the manner he held it as though he was potty training.

The urine had rolled towards his fingers and was dripping from his thumb. When he had relieved himself, he shook it a few times as tiny droplets splattered on his trousers before he picked up his tray of freshly peeled pawpaw from the road.
My microscopic eyes were still on him when our vehicle started to move as soon as the traffic gave way. Another vehicle maneuvered to where we once parked and an unsuspecting lady in the front seat called the hawker for pawpaw. I slowly turned away.

If you follow my Twitter or my Facebook page, you must have read the post I made on the dirty iya basira I met.
For those who didn’t read it, I went to buy food one early morning and beside where the food was, a woman was brushing her teeth vigorously and making those ‘crogggggg crogggg’ noise. That froggy noise of trying to gag mucus from the pit of the belly. I was so disgusted!
I took my food flask and ran as fast as my legs could carry me. The dirty woman was holding her brush in one hand with toothpaste foam that had formed moustache and beards, shouting.
“Sister! Come back na”
Because what she was doing was perfectly normal. After all, I was the hungry one that wanted N250 rice, not her.

I don’t even want to go into details of market women that will be selling ewedu in a stainless pot and beneath the table, their kids/toddlers are shitting ewedu on the floor. And they think its cute!!!
Because both colours match.

There is also an aboki next door that makes bread and egg every morning.
6:45am, you would see him putting one hand on the waist and using the other hand to scratch his penis like recharge card.
6:50am, he is beating an egg for an unsuspecting customer. You’ll ask for only salt and pepper in your fried egg but end up getting fried eggs with spices like a drop of sperm, dried urine and one or two strands pubic hair.
I wasn’t surprised when I heard someone purge for two days after having his bread and egg.
It’s now a crime to eat bread and egg outside. Common agege bread.

My brother has sworn never to buy sachet fanice yoghurt/ice-cream ever since he saw an aboki using the scissors to shave his beards under a mango tree.
Probably the same scissors he uses to trim armpit hair.
And he thinks it’s okay.
Unlike my brother, I don’t have the willpower to stop patronising them. Cos N100 fanice is my on-the-go-icecream, until coldstone Ice-Cream or sweet kiwi yoghurt is slashed to N200 per cup.
I am patiently waiting.

These are my most recent encounters with food vendors and road side hawkers. Eighty percent of the time, I eat out. (for personal & complicated reasons)
It’s not Eko Hotel Buffet, KFC, Chicken Republic or Sweet Sensation cos I don’t wash Eko Hotel toilet after eating. I cut my coat according to my size and go for the Iya Basira at your backyard and it’s frightening I would never know what goes on among these food vendors behind closed doors.

“Stir the jollof rice oh, add five teaspoon of thyme, add pepper, add one basin of well water, add the meat from yesterday’s gbegeri, add three cubes of white maggi, one cube of knor, oya add two spoons of lassa fever…”

Pause.

I spent a lot of money on medication from food poisoning in December. Twice.
Anyway, I can’t wait to make money so I can ‘manage’ KFC for breakfast, lunch and dinner.

http://www.naijasinglegirl.com/before-they-kill-me/

I am not that THIRSTY sir.

akp202:
that is because u wanna send traffic to ur blog

Thank God. Well done.

davide470:
@NaijaSingleGirl,

All traces of the guy who posted the advert here has been removed. I exchanged a couple of mails with him and I can tell you he is an e-idiot

He is a scam artist and goes by the name; Shortlistnig and Qwerty on Nairaland.

I believe Shortlist should issue out a statement soon, dissociating them from that anything regarding that mail.

I'm not making this up and I don't know how to embed tweets to Nairaland as tangible proof but I posted the original tweet with its replies on my blog here http://naijasinglegirl.com/what-the-hell/

Twitter user, @habbizzelle shared the screen shot below yesterday. According to her, her friend applied for a job in Globacom and received this in her mailbox.

Thank you

soaksman:
Girl you can write! You have got good diction and an excellent analytical skill. Why not go into advertising, you can be a copy writer cos you write so damn good!

She grew up Sir. ''Who funny help?"

Kayoski:
gud write up...



But seriously op where is the naijasinglegirl we used to know ??..


The story started wella but the end was just off..


anyways fiction writing no easy sha..

gud write up though..

I will update the post on my blog with a photo of my hair soon.

Ujuhot:
Lol.. Please show us the hair

My hair is too short to be packed into one or two or three or four .

SailorXY:
Whatever happened to combing your hair & packing it properly.

Lmao. BUT i am the landlady here na,

johnwizey:
How can u create a topic and still be the FTC Don't be a wayo

I know I am too old for this but FT... lol

Don't forget to always visit my blog at http://www.naijasinglegirl.com

A friend spoke to her mum concerning my unemployed status and the mum promised to look into my matter.
Recently, she called one evening to inform me her mum asked that I come to her office the following day with my résumé and two passport photographs. My friend also said, “Please dress very well. You know my mum can worry,”
After ransacking my wardrobe in search of the perfect office wear, I sighed in exasperation when I stood in front of a mirror.
You see, I have been indoors for a while and at ease, rocking ‘didi’ in my natural hair since I’ve had nowhere important to go. My didi makes me look like a 15 year old and there is no way I want to look like a 15 year old when I’m out to look for my Chevron job. I quickly loosened my hair and all I was left with was a confused looking afro.
I had discarded the last of my worn-out wigs some weeks back and I was completely disoriented on what to with my hair as I had only a night to get ready. I proceeded to do what they call twistouts, my first twistouts as a naturalista before going to bed.

Next morning, after getting dressed, my heart was pounding wildly as I unravelled my twists. I don’t have the right words to describe how my hair looked when I was done. I was tempted to compare it with twistouts photos on Instagram but I held on to the conviction that what you don’t know won’t kill you and the only way I could get away with the thing on my head was to rock it with an arrogant confidence.

As I walked out of my estate, a white infinity with slightly tinted windows pulled up at a sharp bend beside me and a male voice said,”Hello, excuse me.”
Thinking Mr Right has finally found me, I stopped only for the guy to say a woman hawking bread is coming that I should please wait and help her offload her bread when she comes. Truly, there was a woman hurrying towards his car with agege bread on her head but when I peeped into the vehicle, there was a lady wearing a long Brazilian hair, his girlfriend maybe, fiddling with a Samsung phone.
She didn’t even raise her head to say good morning to a single girl. I was so infuriated!

“You think you people are the only ones that feel like eating agege bread? Is it because I am not wearing human hair that’s why you can’t tell her to get down to help the bread lady or both of you don’t have two hands. Rubbish!” I said.
The guy stared dumbfounded as I walked away.

In the bus to Obalende, I sat on the middle of the second row and eyed everybody behind who stared at my hair from the mirrors. The conductor with his unhealthy mohawk dreads said “Fine girl, this your hairstyle resemble my own.”
“God forbid bad thing.” I cursed.

As I pulled out my wallet to pay my fare, it dawned on me I had no passport. Luckily, I located a small photograph studio by the bus stop at Obalende. The operator, after promising me he was the next best thing after Kelechi Amadi Obi took me the most ugly set of photographs. I know passports are naturally ugly but the ugliness of my photo on the computer screen was beyond comprehension. When I complained as he was about printing them, he said, “But na your hair make it dey so. I snap wetin I see.”
I just pretended to answer a fake phone call and sneaked out of the building so I wouldn’t pay.

On arriving the office, my friend’s mum handed me an address of a recruitment agency in Broad Street and said the manager was her friend, that I drop my CV with her. Then she said “My dear, this your hair sef. I hope she judges your appearance based on what she sees on your passport.”
That was when I told her I forgot my passport. She said I am an unserious person. Then she took out a turban from her bag and I thought she wanted to give it to me but she shocked me by taking off the horrible looking foul nyash wig from her head and replacing it with a turban.
“Wear this wig to take a passport and make sure you bring it back to me on your way from Broad street.” she said. I put the wig in my bag with the promise to wear it once I get to the studio.

My high point of the day came when I was about crossing a road to take a keke. An afro-naturalista at the backseat of a passing vehicle screamed, “I LOVE YOUR HAIR, GIRL.”
When I heard that, my confidence was restored and I resolved not to wear the wig.

I found a 2-min photography booth at Broad Street. This one was run by a lady. I got seated and was reapplying my powder peacefully when the lady came close to me with her cheap camera and a small tooth comb. She told me to bend my head.
“Meaning what? Who sent you to comb my twistouts?” I shouted. “Don’t you know this is the style? Do you know how many people have told me I LOVE YOUR HAIR?”
“Ejo e ma binu. It’s for your own good.” she said as she withdrew.
“Thank you but it’s not your head! Just do the work I’m paying you for please.” I said.
I got my very ugly passports and went to the recruitment office.

The recruitment agent, a soft spoken lady, refused to take her eyes off my hair as she asked me series of questions, based on the information on my CV. When the interview was finally over, she said, ”You are smart but my major concern in recommending you to a potential employer is this your hair. I’m going to call you back in a few weeks for another assessment. Please try to make your hair then. I know money is hard to come by when you have no job but if you can’t afford that, you can even go natural. I heard that’s what is in vogue.”

But I thought my hair is natural?


http://naijasinglegirl.com/i-wore-my-natural-hair-to-look-for-a-job-and-this-is-what-happened/