STORY

So this morning, as usual, and just like my fellow Lagosians answering Sir/Ma to one inhumane employer, I woke up very early around 4. AM, observed my morning prayers, did a few push-ups, took my bath, ate, all within an hour, and was now fully ready to rush up to the bus stop, to this workplace, and to this job, I recently secured about two months ago, after about two years of being unemployed.

I dared not joke with the probation period of a job that pays 250k monthly in this country, where first-class graduates of chemistry are now excos at Iyanu-Ipaja and Oshodi Tricycle committees. So I practically did everything in my human capacity to impress and probably even over-impress my employers so they could not only retain me but probably even grant me a raise after the six-month probation period. To achieve this, of course, punctuality had to be a watchword, so I literally made sure I was up and rolling even before 4. am, so I could beat Lagos’ crazy traffic and also beat all my co-workers to time, or at least be one of the first three people to report to the company's rooster daily.

In fact, today I even overslept and woke up a bit behind my usual time, so I had to rush everything up. But unfortunately, after all the rushing, the worst happened: I reached out for my wallet, and it was empty! Empty! Like no single Kobo was in it.

Jesus! What kind of silly mistake did I make? I had crossed past several POS machine operators yesterday while returning from work and met several others when I had gone out last night to buy a bottle of stout with the previous 300 Naira on me. How in God’s name did I forget to restock my wallet?

Of course, there was no slightest probability that those lazy bunches of entitled POS girls around my street would be out by now, at 5. Definitely not possible. Not now, and not even in the next three hours. I’m practically sure those girls watch a complete season of an American movie before even thinking of trying to come to work. These same liabilities would open their gutter mouths to say, "I cannot marry a broke n! gga. Made man or nothing! Wereys.

At this point, I was vigorously searching the pockets of all my trousers and almost shattering all my room in search of at least 200 Naira for transport fare to my workplace, but instead of the money I was searching for, all I kept seeing were all these flyers I had been given by over-zealous members of Salvation Ministries and Winners, empty containers of Mentholatum, sachets of maltose, and other annoying items. As an ardent believer in self-respect and a fervent anti-see-finish advocate, the last thing I would ever do was knock on the door of any neighbor to say, Abeg, borrow me. God forbid! So I had to creatively devise this strategy that almost landed me in the mouth of a hungry wolf this morning.

So, brothers and sisters, that was how I carried my strategic penniless self to the junction, pennilessly halted an Oshodi bus, and confidently got into the bus pennilessly. I sat in the bus, and as the bus continued moving, I plugged in my earpiece and jammed to Nathaniel Bassy’s Tobechukwu, all this and more in a penniless state. Shishi, I no hold.

Soon, the bus conductor, this chocolate-skinned young man with huge Yokuzuna arms and chest like that of recently divorced Nollywood actor Bolanle Ninalowo, stood up and shouted Oya, make everybody begin to bring their money", Oya, Oya, make E no be change o. And at once, all the guys at the driver’s seat side, the first roll, and the second roll, all paid. Then the bus conductor screamed out, again now directly at the people in the third roll, and asked them whether they didn’t intend to pay, of course with sprinkles of insult. Those ones also paid. The gigantic women also sitting beside me, who have successfully compressed me into the size of a 50-mg sardine, also paid. And now it was finally down to me.

At this point, I was literally shivering and quivering like the nominated Big Brother Naija housemates on a Sunday live eviction show, for fear of being embarrassed. You know how embarrassing it was going to be that I dressed and smelled so nice but had no 200 naira to pay for transport fare. I for one just trek until I find one ATM or POS stand, or even drop this useless pride and beg from a neighbor instead of this public embarrassment I was about to cause myself. Would this strategy work? Would this gamble work? My heart was pounding, my spirit was panting, and my half-lifeless body had literally flown into the deepest depths of the River Benue. My eyes were now like those of Demon Salvatour in the vampire's diary, and all over my face were written guilt and fear.

*

*

Just as I was still trying to get myself composed, the bus conductor yelled again, Alaye on earpiece, where's your money?

At this point, the whole bowels of my intestines had shrunk, but then I pretended not to have heard. Then he repeated again, Oga, you never pay; where is your money? Again, I pretended and behaved as if he wasn’t referring to me. Then for the third time, he yelled out with rage, now directly facing me "Alaye, I say, where your money".

Then I pretentiously feigning ignorance replied, "Shey nah me you dey talk to, I done pay you nah."

Pay me where? He clapped back, now looking very dangerous and very much ready to unleash venom. Pay me wetting?

But of course, I kept insisting and insisting, even raising my voice and tone. He looked at me bombastically, and I looked at him right back.

Then he went on to count the money he had collected and the people on the bus, and the figures weren’t rhyming. He measured and calculated again, and the figures were still not rhyming. He looked at me again this time, raising his eyebrows this time, and shouted, "Alaye, I go beat you here o. Baba, no try cheat me. Bring your money now". And before I said another word, a fatal blow had already landed on the pinnacle of my jaw, and another one was almost about to go straight to the left side of my nose.

Thank God for the kind-hearted Samaritan who immediately intervened, calmed the bus conductor, and told him "Calm down, bros, don’t worry, I'm going to pay", I probably would have left that bus with eleven major injuries.



LAGOS CONDUCTORS NO GET JOY!

https://www.arealproblemkid.com/2023/09/my-scary-encounter-with-crazy-lagos-bus.html

Thier joy is stolen.

If you go slack, them go use you Shine!!

Sapasis

Mon tan ra e. N250k monthly yet you dey broke to t.fare level.

Oniro

Entprys:
Mon tan ra e. N250k monthly yet you dey broke to t.fare level.

Oniro

You don’t know what probation means?

Lols,thank God its settle