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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 momma 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, shit 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.

The story continues in the next sequel GIRLS AINT LOYAL

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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. check back for 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.

It’s been more than three months since the Prado Guy incident. I had moved out from my babe’s apartment into Biggie’s apartment. He has always been my bro since day 1. Sarah and I were still dating but the steam wasn’t there. We chatted once in a while but it was quite obvious that the whole thing was headed for the rocks. She claimed she cheated on me to help me get a job, that it was a sacrifice she was constrained to make.

Well, I listened to her but I wasn’t eating any of that ‘sacrifice ‘ bullshit. If she cheated to get me off my jobless situation, she might one day cheat with the landlord to foot the rent, or with the NEPA man to foot the bills. One can never tell. These ladies ain’t loyal.

I have always known that relationships involving fair and pretty ladies never lasted. If you doubt me check out the news about Tonto Dike and Oladunni Churchill, or Tonto Dike and Malivelihood, and Dbanj, and Wizkid etc. If you still need more proof also check out Toke Makinwa and Maje Ayida or Meek Mill and Nicki Minaj or Charly Boy and Bobrisky (in this one, it is your guess who the lady is). Are you convinced now?

Things were changing for the better the Nigerian way. In Nigeria, if you crossed from PDP to APC, that’s change: change in alphabets. The economy will remain the same or worsen. Biggie told me there was an opening at his workplace. He worked at a decrepit restaurant and chalet by the road side that was the lair of hoes and yahoo boys. I applied and got the job. I was to work as the doorman and the pay was #20,000 per month. I accepted the terms and conditions and started work at once.

I hadn’t worked for more than three days than I began to ask myself if it weren’t better to go back to the village and rear hens than stand for 12 hours a day sliding doors back and forth. The job was horrible. At the close of work my leg would feel as if the joints had knocked. I always walked home like a bicycle with a broken spindle. Then another problem was the monotony of the job. I mean, even if you were paid a six-figure salary, you’d definitely get bored standing 12 hours a day closing doors and opening them and saying “welcome” and “bye, have a nice day.” I had to speak to the boss about those issues.

So that Tuesday evening, everyone was in bad mood except the boss. We had a good number of customers that day. That meant more cooking for the chef, more serving by the waiters and waitresses, more door sliding for me but more money for the boss. So he was in good spirits as I walked into his office.

“Yes! Yes! What are you doing here? You should be at door.” He blared like a goat.

“Erm, good day sir. We haff almos finish for tonight. So I say that I should come and see you.” I was very tired.

“See me? For what? Is it the end of the month? Young man get back to work before I roll you up in dough and bake you!”

“It’s not like that sir, my meat dry, well well. Customers won’t be able to chew it!”

“Go straight to the point! What do you want? He was an impatient man.

“The door, sir. Standing there all the time. Is boring too much. I swear, is very boring.”

“That is why you were employed, to handle that very boring job.” He made a face like a Snapchat donkey. “There is nothing I can do about it. Besides, every one stands in here. From the cleaners to the waiters, to the chefs to me, the boss!”

“Ah oga, my own standing is different. I want another type of standing.”

“You are wasting my time. What kind of standing do you want?

“Erm, Sir, I don’t mean to insult you sir. But since you asked, I don’t mind standing as the boss, if you don’t mind.”

My boss made a face like he just sat his naked ynash on a pin. Then with as much strength as he could summon into his large mouth, he blared. “Get out!”

Shuo, person cannot ask a question again? Shebi na him say all standing na standing!
“I am sorry sir. Shebi I said if you don’t mind. I didn’t know that you would mind, but if I can’t stand as the boss, can I stand as the accountant, I promise I won’t ‘loss’ your money”

“Get out before I push you out.” He howled like a crossbreed of dangerous dogs.

He then stood up like a hangman and walked towards me. Brother, Usain Bolt no reach me for run. I tore out of the room like the EFCC was after me.



So that was how my plan failed and I kept on standing and sliding doors and helloing and goodaying customers both on good days and bad days.

Then something happened that would in the long run land me inside kirikiri. But the kirikiri part is a story for another day. You see, I needed money badly. I was living with Biggie. Biggie would never let you have a coin off him. He could drown you with alcohol till you threw your intestines out, but on all other matters involving money, he would make you split the bill in two.

So I was footing half the NEPA bill, house rent, food bill, fuel bill, and air freshner bill; the one we used when his girlfriend came over. I was broke like the economy, man. So I began to get creative. I soon figured out how I would make extra income. CHARITY! That was my mamma’s name by the way.

Your guess is as wrong as whatever comes out of the mouth of Lie Muhammed (Please, pardon the spelling of the first name, I kept spelling it correctly but my phone kept autocorrecting it, so I left it like that. My phone knows better) If you thought I was going to give to charity.

Don’t get me wrong. I totally support giving to charity but… but when your case don worse pass Charity own- you begin to wonder what the difference was; why people don’t give to you too. So at my place of work, in the third week since I started working there, a plan flashed through my mind like power supply at Oworonshoki. I thought about the plan. I turned it over this way and that way until it occurred to me that if I didn’t put it into action I’d go totally gaga.

Last week had been particularly dull for business. Customers walked-in in ones after three or four hour interval. As usual the boss jumped off his skin like boiled periwinkle when he saw the accounts. To cut the short story shorter, he said we were at fault and must recommend ways to move the business forward. Babe, if you see as people start to they google the internet for ideas, you go shock.

Funke, the receptionist, googled “Ow kan wi move hour otel 4ward” and waited for it to load. When she saw no related feedback she typed, “Habeg, hany otel walk vacansi haround Osodi hunder bridge?

It wasn’t funny. Everyone was under pressure except me. I had a plan.
The evil hour soon came and the boss called for the meeting. We all assembled in his office and stood like primary school children that bought akara with their school fees. I’ve done it before so I know what I am talking about. It wasn’t funny I say.

The boss adjusted uneasily in his chair like he sat on his scrotum and looked up at us.

“Who among you has been pulling my business down?”

The office was quiet. It was like Ibrahim Magu, EFCC chairman, telling the senate “If you can swear you are not corrupt say Aye!” Who wan talk, make thunder from Sango and Amadioha shrine join forces knack him left ynash.

“We have to get to the bottom of the matter, and the earlier someone starts saying something the better for all of you.”

We couldn’t say a word, though we knew one another’s secrets. For instance the master Chef was always packing food home. I couldn’t blame him though, when a man has eight kids at home plus a wife the size of Eniola Badmus, you’d learn to sympathize with him for no reason.

The other day I caught him red handed. It was just eight o’clock and the boss had gone home for the night. Customers wanting to grab a quick supper were all stranded in the restaurant. When I rushed in to find out what the problem was, I was told the whole food was finished. I went into the kitchen to see what the chef was doing about it, but alas alas, there he was pushing all the food inside a black polythene bag.

“Psalm.” he called me “My family never chop.” he said. “I do all this cooking and I don’t have food at home? Not possible. My wife… you know how she is.” He said mournfully. “I mean, where a baboon works, a baboon should also eat.”

“You mean your wife?” I asked finding it difficult to understand how a baboon got to into the conversation.

“My wife?” he asked. Then he seemed to understand. “Well, judging by her weight and her hairy backside, you may have a point.”

Eww, I had never seen her hairy backside. In fact, I would rather buy popcorn and beer (since coke and Fanta don cast) and watch Denrele and Bobrisky make out than see that woman’s hairy backside… eww.

“Take heart, Chef. God will give you the fortitude to bear the load.”

Well, that was just one long instance to prove to you we weren’t all saints like President Buhari’s cabinet members.

The other day, a wealthy man had come to the restaurant for lunch with a girl that dumped me three years ago. I told him point blank that no dish was ready (though it was past midday), that if his girlfriend couldn’t cook for him at home he should go and look for another one.

‘That’s correct.” The wealthy man said. “Sandra come home and cook for me.”

They turned back and drove away. Sandra was a bad cook. Years ago, she added water to some eggs she was frying for breakfast, explaining that it was too thick. I guess she is single again.

Back to the meeting, my boss was now pacing round the tiny office.

“Since you have no answer to my question, do you at least have a suggestion on how we can move the business forward?”

It was Biggie, my friend, that opened the floor.

“I think, you know, we all feel business isn’t going well because, you know, we are comparing this week’s sale with that of last week. I mean, you know, last week was the week of valentine and sales were high for obvious reasons. You know”

“We don’t know!?”The Boss fired like a pregnant woman whose water just broke. “Why were sales high during valentine, did Chef’s culinary skill get better or did Funke’s makeup get more attractive?

“Not really, during valentine, the rooms were cheaper because of the promo. And we had crowd of people wanting to lodge, and you know, do it… and they had to eat too. I mean, aside the girl, Stephanie, in room 4, who else does it on an empty stomach?” Biggie asked.

“I …” Boss started. We looked up at him in unison. He realized the awkwardness of what he just said.

“I don’t mean I as in I do it on an empty stomach, I mean I …” he looked at Biggie like a LASTMA official would look at a danfo driver picking a passenger on the express. “Next time you end a sentence like that, you are fired, what rubbish!”

“I am sorry sir.” Biggie said, unsure what he had done wrong.

“Biggie made a point, but stating what the problem is isn’t the same as solving it. If it were, Psalm’s mouth odour would be a thing of the past.” He took me by surprise, in fact I was so confused I had to quickly run my wet tongue across my palm and smell the residue. I won’t say it smelled as good as Passion perfume, but I can beat my chest and say my mouth has an edge over rotten egg.

“So I need solutions.” The boss said, his bulging eyes resting on me. For a second I thought we had been too harsh on Segun Arinze, it was because of my boss Oxford added “eyesore” to the dictionary, Segun had nothing to do with it.

“I have a solution.” I said, looking him eyeball to ‘eyeballs’.

“Solution for the mouth odour?” He asked.

“No, a solution that would move the business forward.”

Why should I suffer myself to solve my mouth odour problem, I mean when a man has mouth odour, who dey suffer am pass, no be the people wey surround the man? They should find the solution.

“Let me have the solution quickly.”




The story continues in another hilarious episode. Comment below...

following. nice one

Wow, I really like the write-up

Where is this popcorn boy??!! Gimme 7 cups with 2 bottles of sobo...




Entering with mat

dreh17:
Where is this popcorn boy??!! Gimme 7 cups with 2 bottles of sobo...




Entering with mat

ah dey dia

lol

that moment when d boss said 'l' in respond to Biggie open sentence question, ''who does it on empty stomach'' cracked my ribs dat i nearly laffed my lungs out!...
Nice work boss

Hehehe, nice one. You got me cracking all the way.

ok

“Let me have it quickly.”


“The business does well during celebrations like Valentine’s day, because more crowd means more money. So if we can have something like Valentine’s Day every day, then we will sell more food.”


“What do you have in your head, pap or custard? We can’t have Valentine’s day every day.” That was the Chef sounding smart.

“What I have in my head is a hairy backside save for the stench and the massive fat deposit” I replied calmly.

How was that for a clap back? I should probably write diss tracks for Meek Mill. “My idea is, let’s bring crowd in here. Every day, every hour.”

“How!?” The boss was not known for patience.

“This is how… we organize church events in this place. Yes, church is the new cash cow. We convince churches around to hold some of their soul winning fellowships inside the restaurant. I mean there are so many souls to be won here, Funke’s for instance. But that is not the aim. When they sing and dance won’t they be thirsty?

“They will.”

“Won’t they be hungry?

“They will.”


“Food sales will go up. Some randy ones will lodge. The multiplier effect will be exponential! I mean… you can clap now”



There was a spirited round of applause. I felt it was the slightly impressive choice of words that excited them, not the idea.

“You think this plan will work?” The boss asked?

“Does anyone have a plan B? I asked. There was no reply.

The following day, we made and distributed fliers. Many churches wrote and called signifying interest in the soul winning program. And it happened that they came pouring in en masse the next day.



I had a carpenter make me two wooden piggy banks; I hid one somewhere and on the other one, I wrote “Charity, T & C apply” and kept it close to the entrance and as people came in I convinced them to give to charity, some were stingy like an Ijebu man with a Bsc. in Economics but many others gave generously.

Needless to say, my plan was effective and by six we had sold off all the food and drinks, even the rooms were all booked. Apparently, some pastors came from neighbouring states and needed accommodation.

My boss was very impressed with the whole idea, and twice or so, he came to work with a worn out King James Version.



The whole plan went well until kasala burst.

The restaurant was filled to capacity the fifth day, the church members were in high spirits, singing and dancing excitedly, waiting for the pastor.

Thirty minutes crawled past and he that was present an hour ago was nowhere to be found. So many of the church members began to go round the hotel, searching the rooms and stores, thinking he had slept off or something.

I even joined in the search. After thirty minutes of fruitless search it occurred to me that we had not searched room 4. I told all the search party to follow me. We got to the room and I pushed it open, and lo and behold, what we saw vexed the devil himself.

The pastor was (pants down) on top of a naked Stephanie. The church members were irate with anger. They said Stephanie was a temptress, and had lured their pastor into committing the unholy deed. They nearly lynched the poor girl. Had we the staff not come to her rescue we would have had a manslaughter to contend with. In the scuffle that ensued, seats and windows were broken.



The boss was furious, at first I thought he was angry at the church members; but he wasn’t, then I sensed he was upset with Stephanie; but I was wrong. Later that evening, he called me and told me to come to work the next day and pick my salary and never return to the company. That was when I knew whom he had blamed for the whole thing. What a mess, after my genius idea, what do I get in return? A sack. I was fired.

The next day, we all assembled in the restaurant and the boss announced that the money that would be spent fixing all the damaged property was in fact higher than the profit we had made. So he had no choice than to break open the charity box and take some for the repairs.
He told Funke to get the box from his office where I usually keep it after work. Then he paid me 15,000 naira as my monthly salary. It was supposed to be twenty but he said the month wasn’t over so he couldn’t pay me for services I did not render. When they were about to break the box, he told me to pick my stuff and leave. He didn’t want me to know how much was in the box. So I left.

When I got home, I brought out the real charity box and broke it. I counted the money; it was about fifty seven thousand naira. Bros, I am rich. You may be wondering how I had the box with me. May be you have forgotten, I made two of those boxes. After the scuffle of the previous night, I went up, left the empty box in my boss’ office and took the real one home.

I folded the money and kept it inside my inner suit pocket. You might want to say I should hand over the money to charity, that it is wrong to take what belongs to the poor. Well, you are right. But Charity’s money is my money too. On the box, I had written T and C apply. Under the box I wrote out the full terms and condition. It clearly says. “All proceeds of the money shall go to Charity, Psalm’s mother. And in her absence, Psalm, being her next of kin, shall take full possession of the money.”

Well, there you have it. Like Davido who said his father’s house was his house too, I am saying, Charity’s money is my money too. And if you are among those that visited the hotel and gave generously, pele, next time read the terms and condition. There is a reason companies like MTN write their Terms and Condition where you won’t see it.

And if the chicken-change you put inside the box, dey vex you too much, I am on a Danfo going to Ikeja City Mall. Come and beat me.

My plan worked after all. If not for that randy pastor, I would have made close to a hundred thousand naira. I don’t want to mention the pastor’s name, but the girl he slept with is Stephanie, so it is anyone’s guess who he is. Please, I want to start an oil company with the fifty thousand naira. I need ideas, Comment below.

In the next episode, The Madman of Lagos, Psalm, will fall into the hands of daredevil scammers, the encounter will change his life forever and yours too.

Note that references are made to events trending as at the time the story was written, like Stephanie and Pastor Sule (if you add "man", na you sabi), Meek Mill's weak diss track against Drake, and Davido's claim that his father's house was his house too. Please tag all your friends, I want
a full house so I can update every few hours, and please comment, my dad said I am a horrible writer, please tell me if it is true! Is it okay if I include pictures or would you rather read the stories with pictures on my blog: www.madman.com.ng where all the updates are?

Bros, woman wey dey find pikin dey naked sleep.

The next day after I was sacked from work, I woke up to find Biggie, my friend, weeping like a child on the 4 by 6 bed we both shared. Biggie was like that, make I no lie, small things made him cry like a child. Let me give you an example. Few months ago, I had just returned from a particularly bad interview; I bumped into the room hoping to see Biggie and tell him how the interview went. I didn’t see Biggie; instead, I saw a plate of Indomie on the floor. Biggie could go to hell; a plate of indomie is bae. My guy, if you see how this indomie was garnished, they no born you well make you no chop am.

The Indomie just sat in the plate like Kim Kardashian on a stool, the ears of the ynash spilling out like compressed jelly.



When biggie entered and saw the empty plate, he shivered like a marine-spirit-possessed-girl under Pastor TB Joshua’s anointing. Then he collapsed on the floor and wailed as if Balotelli had kicked him in the scrotum. I picked up the pure water he was carrying and drank it. I don’t like eating without drinking water. He wailed louder. It took some close neighbours 2 hours to console him.

When he came to, he rolled his fat right arm round and round like a rollercoaster and gave me a punch on my jaw that shook the holy spirit out of me. Bros, I learnt my lesson that day so tey, if we go Saturday owambe and they serve food, I would ask “Is this for Biggie or for me?”

I mean, who cries over a plate of Indomie? The way Biggie wept that day eh, I come dey wonder wether he used his right and left eggs to cook the Indomie. If I were the one, I wouldn’t have cried. That doesn’t mean you should take the water I kept in the fridge to get cold. If you try am, bros, the thunderrr…The thunder wey go jam your left kidney dey hell fire dey warm up.

So that morning, I woke up and saw Biggie crying.
“What’s up bro? Why u dey shed tears like say your girlfriend get belle? I asked searching for my toothbrush and salt.

“The boss sacked me yesterday. You know, he said I was the one who brought you into his restaurant, you know, and that I have to bear the brunt of your action. You know, he said you were a helpless lunatic; with madness the size of a mature fibroid tumor, you know, that your mouth smelled like rotting cabbage and decaying egg. He said that if he had employed a goat instead of you, you know, he would have earned more profit.”

Bros, the toothbrush and salt and cup of water fell off my hands. I sat on the floor and wept.

20 comments before the next update. Tag friends.

Chaaaiii... Deres goddoo

pele. biggie get bad mouth o.

I didnt even bother reading

So let me comment this veushJbus bsywtsos gaushdosgs varqidvzksjs

the last story about biggie and the indomie sha.. lmao!!

This is copyright infringement, I read this story some years ago and this wasn't the guy's moniker then.

I can't remember the Op for now, but this is someone else's work.

Raintaker:
This is copyright infringement, I read this story some years ago and this wasn't the guy's moniker then.

I can't remember the Op for now, but this is someone else's work.

Now reminds me of someone, wenogetjob

Unfortunately, it seems the blogger quit cause his blog isn't live again. Wenogetjob was a complete clown. I enjoyed all his stories then.

Raintaker:
This is copyright infringement, I read this story some years ago and this wasn't the guy's moniker then.

I can't remember the Op for now, but this is someone else's work.

Visit my blog and verify the owner. I started the madman's series this year. And I update weekly. Next time say something sensible: you can do this by thinking of something foolish and saying the opposite.

Heromaniaa:
Visit my blog and verify the owner. I started the madman's series this year. And I update weekly. Next time say something sensible: you can do this by thinking of something foolish and saying the opposite.

Ok sir.

Still counting...

please more

Oboy I gbadun this story ooo
Upload for us jahwe
We are eagerly waiting

“The boss sacked me yesterday. You know, he said I was the one who brought you into his restaurant, you know, and that I have to bear the brunt of your action. You know, he said you were a helpless lunatic; with madness the size of a mature fibroid tumor, you know, that your mouth smelled like rotting cabbage and decaying egg. He said that if he had employed a goat instead of you, you know, he would have earned more profit.”

Bros, the toothbrush and salt and cup of water fell off my hands. I sat on the floor and wept.

Later on that day, Biggie started telling me about an opening he saw.

A well-known oil company was recruiting. He said if we played our cards right we could get the job “you know?”

I knew how to play my cards right, right from primary six when I beat an SS3 student in whot. It was a historic event. It was. Teachers stood on one side, students on the other cheering us on. The game had dragged on for 45 minutes, and everyone was getting tense. I had about 7 cards in my hands and my senior opponent had 2. Then he played one of his cards and screamed “Last card!”

Unknown to the senior, I had been gathering an assortment of cards waiting for it to click. And it did. I had one triangle and one star pick twos; one star and one circle hold ons; one circle and one block general market; and one block seven.

So as the teachers and students watched and took sides with their favourite, I began to dish it out to the guy.



“Pick two, pick two, hold on, hold on, general market, general market, and last card- check up!” And that was how I won the game.

Till today, the story is told in that school.
You see, I can play my cards alright.
The vacancy was legit, Biggie said. Mobil Oil Company was recruiting and the next day was the deadline for submission of cv. We quickly mailed our cvs to the company’s email address: mobilehoilcompany@gmail.com.

Three hours later, we received text messages inviting us to interviews. We were filled with gladness when we received the messages.
On the day of the interview, we woke before dawn and began to fire prayers. We prayed so loud and violently that the heavens shook and thunder rumbled across the sky. The next we felt was water dripping down our body, bros, it was then I opened my eyes and saw our landlord standing by the window, a bowl of water in his hand.

“I have been shouting and banging the gate since, kilode?” He was really angry.

“Oga landlord, what’s the problem? Can’t someone pray in peace? I screamed at him.

“Not when you are disturbing the peace of the neighbourhood. Don’t you know people are still sleeping? If I hear pim again, the two of you will leave my house today, today!”

Bros, we quickly wore our clothes and zoomed off.

I had expected the interview would be held at one of the offices of the oil company, but guy, my expectations were dashed as we got there. The venue was an old broken down school and despite the fact that we came too early, there were more than five hundred people there already. Everyone wanted an oil company job. The place was busy like Obalende bus terminal. But as people say, wetin remain one don already finish, we decided to stay to see the end of it. If we had gone home we might have saved ourselves the tragedy that befell us. But we stayed – first mistake.

We waited 3 hours 26 minutes before the so called interviewers arrived. 3 good hours. The interviewers were four in number, three men and one lady. And if you have seen bus conductors that ply Oshodi- Apapa route, you might have a clue about how those three men looked. The lady herself was a case study on the evil effects of bleaching. She was red in complexion with a touch of yellow and walked briskly like she was familiar with hawking purewater on Lagos-Ibadan Express way. They came in, cheap files in hand, and began to address us like prisoners who have just assaulted a warder.

“Poverty is a disease” one said “today we are going to introduce you to a life of wealth and happiness. My name is Dr. Oyeleye Abass, the MD of Workteam Recruiters, recruiting partner of Mobile Hoil Company.”

Dr. Oyeleye went on and spoke at length about deregulation of the upstream and downstream oil sectors and on shore and off shore dichotomy. He didn’t bother to explain what those tough words were; when a confused lady asked him to explain what dichotomy was, Dr. Oyeleye ordered his partners to bounce her out. So we all kept quiet and swallowed his gospel hook, line and sinker.

“Imagine that comatose entity asking me what dichotomy is. Is she trying to teach me my job? Who doesn’t know what dichotomy is? I am asking all of you; don’t you know what dichotomy is?”

Read DIARY OF A MADMAN EPISODE 3

We all screamed that we knew it.

Another speaker came on stage and introduced himself as Uduaghan. He was so muscular we all wondered what he was doing in an oil company. He said he was a pipeline engineer in Mobile “oyel” company and that many of us would intern under him.

“My job is not difficult. And the pay is good. I drive 2 Toyota Ferrari and one Honda G wagon. Nice cars. If you do all what we tell you to do, when we employ you, you will drive your own too.”

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Me self go like work for that company o maybe I fit get feragamorollsroyce

I'm glad I found this thread. I dey laugh dey learn at the same time

Wow .. ���� abeg the story is going well .. if you neva complete an come complete an now o abeg