₦airaland Forum

Have you forgotten on natural hair too? Lmaooo. Funny blog post dedicated to all nigerian girls with natural hair. Read and see things for yourself
http://naijasinglegirl.net/natural-hair-is-not-for-poor-nigerians-thank-you/

LOL. Funny blog post dedicated to all nigerian girls with natural hair. Read and thank me later
http://naijasinglegirl.net/natural-hair-is-not-for-poor-nigerians-thank-you/

LOL. Funny blog post dedicated to all nigerian girls with natural hair. Read and thank me later
http://naijasinglegirl.net/natural-hair-is-not-for-poor-nigerians-thank-you/

LOL. Funny blog post dedicated to all nigerian girls with natural hair. Read and thank me later

http://naijasinglegirl.net/natural-hair-is-not-for-poor-nigerians-thank-you/

Tzulu: @OP, with such narrative skills what job are you still looking for? Send this to media houses for a start as a budding columnist or better still start a blog. Good luck.

thanks but there is a blog already

bizhub: Its not funny...you can excel as a writer and a comedian..instead of such private job...pls where are you based?

Naijasinglegirl is Lagos based

RentedReality: @op;
I demand to know the author of this write-up. I want to make love to her words, watch her while she writes, pass her a dictionary when she's out of words and support her job search.

It's hard finding people with this sense of humor.

My kinda girl, tell her we'll laugh together to the bank, no more Ghana braids it'll be Brazilian from here bae.
Tell her i'll publish whatever she scribbles, tell her our wedding will be attended by words, tell her there's a pharmacy near me; no more headaches.

As for that bookshop owner; i'll make her eat all those books while we watch with popcorn in our mouths.

Tell her I'm raving for her and wont stop till the beat or the DJ dies, whichever comes first.

And finally; tell her I rented reality so we could live out our fantasies,

The author is naijasinglegirl. . She is right there waiting for you

Zedric: @op, unless u are NSG, u should have atleast put the source cos thats not your story. U copied it from www.naijasinglegirl.

if you've been following her posts, you would remember Naijasinglegirl keeps giving credit to one Yemisi for being an amazing friend and PR. Well, that's where I come in. Besides, I didn't want to add at link for fear of being banned that's why I mentioned only the name

davide470: @Yemisi63, sorry for the wrongful banning by the AntiSpam bot, it has been rectified. Nice satire, by the way.

oh thank you. At a point I thought I offended Seun. Please don't do it again. Lol

Thank you guys. The link to the blog with several other hilarious posts is http://www.naijasinglegirl.net. Naijasinglegirl no longer runs on a wordpress hosted platform.

A friend once swore she was going to help me get a job.
Few days after, I received a call from one lady while I was having my hair washed at a saloon. She told me my friend spoke to her about me and she requested we meet at a named 3 star hotel immediately or lose the 'big opportunity' for a job. With my hair still dripping wet, I dashed home and changed into something decent. As soon as I got there, someone directed me to the hotel's garden. Seated there were 3 guys and a lady. All of them wore a yellow t-shirt and they were fiddling with a laptop.
Oh, so I'm going to be registering SIM cards for MTN, I thought.
The first question she asked was if I am a computer literate.
"Yes" I quickly responded.
"Great! I'm actually a HR officer. My client will conduct the interview herself but I had to meet you first to be sure I'm recommending the right person.."

"I am the right person ma" I affirmed.

"Are you born again??" She asked.

That question knocked me off my feet.
Judging from that, It was obvious I was going to be an accountant for Deeper Life Church.
"Yes..I'm born again ma.'' I replied trying not to mince words.

"Beautiful!!" She exclaimed.
"Your interview is going to be at No bla bla bla by 9am on Saturday...its a new plaza in town. I don't need to go into the details of the job but I'm positive you're going to love it. Send your CV to bla bla bla mail. Also make copies of all your credentials and take it along. And pleases do something about that hair before Saturday. First impression matters you know." she added.

End of first interview. I heaved a sigh of relief and left the hotel.

Friday morning, sickness struck. Headache, fever remixed with cold and catarrh.
I contemplated between using the little money I had to make my hair or using the money to buy drugs and LIVE.
"Make your hair, get the job and use your salary to buy a pharmacy." The devil commanded.

If I pass the interview, the sickness might disappear out of excitement, I thought.
The next morning, I was on my way to the interview with the most painful Ghana braids on my hair. My bad health was not helping matters.
To be honest, the malaria had me looking like a fairly used chicken.
I also went with a Ghana must go bag of all my certificates (except my death certificate) only to realise it was a small ugly, stuffy bookshop without a standing/ceiling fan to cool down my temper.
My temper at that point was capable of boiling yam for a family of 3.
If I had my way, I would have tattooed the meaning of plaza on the HR forehead. Smh
My potential employer had not arrived yet so I used the opportunity to peruse the books on a dusty shelf.
A couple of Joyce Meyer books, books on wildlife, one Daily Manna devotional, Igbo men success stories books, history books, a couple of encyclopedia, and some other random boring looking books.
By 9:30, Madam CEO arrived and the interview process commenced.
She fired me a number of JAMB questions like she was sent to hire me as an accountant for Aso Rock.

As God would have it, I impressed her.

Then she began her speech...
"This plastic chair you are sitting on is going to be your office. You are to report from Monday to Saturday and your job runs from 8am to 6pm."

Before I could utter, what time will I use to search for a husband then?
She cut me and continued her cool story.
"You are the customer care representative, office assistant, and marketer of this place."
Upon hearing that, I had to peep at the wall mirror to check whether I have three heads. Does this woman think my head is 3 in one or what?
She went on...

"You would also assist Lilian, the sales girl in drawing accounts. Every Wednesday is marketing days. You are to take some of the books to churches, banks and offices to sell them. These are nice books so its going to be easy for you. That should enable you network."

Wonderful! With this sort of job, my salary should be such that I would be able to ride a Buggati to my village in 6 months time.

She was not done with me...

As a customer care rep, you have to try to read all the books in this shop. People will call to request information about one book or the other that's why."
My head harddrive had crashed upon hearing that.
Are you kidding me? Woman, I don't even read sign board these days!
I didn't want to hear more.
"How much is my salary?" I deadpanned

She paced around for a few seconds before dropping the bombshell.
"Salary is N10000!"

The last time I checked, Nigeria abolished slavery.
I broke into laughter. A laughter of misery and frustration.
To add insult to the injury, she began to yak on how there are no jobs in Nigeria. In her words "I better accept the offer. People will kill to have this job."

Even if I were stupid enough to take the shitty job, my transportation to and fro the bookshop was roughly N8000 a month. Tithe is 1k. Basically, I'll go home with 1K every month at my age, stage and relationship status?

Waste of Ghana braids!
I just wanted to loosen my braids there in her office and force her to swallow the attachment.
"Thank you madam for your offer!" I muttered.
If I had spent an extra minute in there, I would have probably be tumbling down the book shelves.

I packed what was left of my dignity and sicknesses and hurried out of her book kiosk.
As for my friend, we've not spoken to ourselves since then.

Naijasinglegirl

From Naijasinglegirl Diary; I spent the first three minutes of this phone call repeating the verses of Psalm 91 along with my caller with particular emphasis on verse 10. When we were done, my caller handed the phone to his partner.

"Please try and limit yourself indoors except its absolutely necessary."
"Wash your hands every 30 minutes."
"I heard Obalende is a high-risk area. Don't go there!''
"Remember, anybody that coughs around you is a suspect."
"Anywhere you see blood. Run!"

"Okay mum & dad. I'll be careful." I assured them and heaved a sigh of relief.

Since I live 750 kilometres away from my family, my parent's 5-6 minutes long 6am phone calls on 'daily tips to escape Ebola' has slowly become an alarm clock for me for the past seven days. As at last week Thursday, everyone in my village inclusive of those swimming in illiteracy took it upon themselves to inform me on how to rid myself of Ebola.

'Nne, soak yourself in salt water for thirty minutes.' 'Add salt to your bathing water' 'rub salt all over your body' 'Drink a glass of lipton and warm salt solution.' In a bid to please everyone and stay alive, my strategies are to restrict myself to the confines of my room as much as possible.

There shall be,

1. No More Banking
This means I'll have to manage the little money left in my house. If I go to the bank or ATM for any withdrawal, the banker/ ATM might dispense bank notes deposited by an Ebola carrier which means I might bring Ebola money home.
Since its not possible to quarantine money, I hereby dash Diamond Bank all the money in my account.
After all said and done, what happens after I exhaust the last kobo in my money box?

2. No Marketing
I'd have to improvise with the foodstuff left in my kitchen. If I mix with the crowd at the market, I might put myself at risk of Ebola. If I engage in any sort of buying at the kiosk within my estate, the agege bread I pick might be the one an Ebola carrier weighed earlier or the change given to me by the iya mora might be money handled by someone suffering from ebola. So therefore, whenever I buy stuffs of N10 with N1000 note, iyamora would get to keep the N990 change for herself so I don't bring Ebola money and Ebola bread back home.
But what happens when my foodstuff is down to the last morsel of garri?

3. No job for me
The goal is to limit myself to my bedroom as much as possible so I'd have to put all my job hunting adventures on hold. Most job tests comes in form of computer based aptitude test at the company's HQ and what if I unluckily handle a mouse or keyboard an ebola victim handled? What if I arrive the interview venue armed in a full protective vest and gloves amongst other less meticulous humans? Would the HR find it funny?
A week after, I may end up with a stupid regret email and ebola.
But what happens when Dangote calls me for a computer based aptitude test?

4. No new friends
Handshakes symbolises the beginning of a new friendship. If I happen to meet a guy I like and he stretches out his arm for a handshake, would he let me soak his hands in a pot of methylated spirit before that?
Besides that, I'll be stuck indoors and the chances of a husband dropping through my roof are 0.000000001.
But what happens when I finally find Mr Right at 40 and he refuses to wash his hands in methylated spirit?

5. No relationship
Gone are the days of accepting invitations from guys to 'come chill at my crib'. Sorry, I have my own fridge now.
During cold nights, I'll have to forget any form of physical intimacy, drink hot tea and cover myself with the blood of Jesus. Ebola is real people!
Right now, I am open to only long distance relationships. After all, Ebola cannot be transmitted through skype conversations, emails and phone calls.
But what happens when I run out of MB and airtime?

7. No more suya
God in heaven knows the most hurting fact of Ebola is the fact that bush animals are hosts and y'all know I am one hell of a bad ass carnivore. I can say no to any living thing that breathes in oxygen. I can't even prepare noodles without adding any four legged creature I catch sight of.
Suya, peppersoup, antelope meat and the likes are now marked off my diet.
During the era of bird flu, my family got 3 full chickens for N200 each that christmas and we cooked them with holy water.
As much as I'll like to take advantage of the price slash in monkey meat, Ebola has made bird flu and HIV seem like a child's play.
But what happens when I'm offered a plate of assorted peppered bush meat prepared with scent leaves and palm oil?

8. No more okrika
Henceforth, I have no business with N50 okrika clothes popularly known as second hand clothes. What if the former owner died of Ebola?
Ok bra, Ok pants, Ok tops, Ok shoes, you would never find me at Yaba market making my pick on bended knees. I don't care if its Yvonne Nelson old pant or President Ellen Johnson old bra, nothing shall make me bring exposed Ebola clothes home.
Now is the time to get rich enough to patronise top designers or settle my beef with my Aba brothers.

9. Relocation
One day, I'll eventually get tired of sleeping and waking up in a bathtub of salt and steaming dettol.
I'll get tired of having boiled kolanuts for breakfast, fried kolanuts for lunch and roasted kolanuts for dinner.
I might look out of my window and find corpses of people who didn't take Ebola precautionary measures like me.
When that happens, I'd have to leave Lagos for least populated rural areas like those villages in Obubra Area of Cross River State, those forests in Benin, Oyi village in Enugu State or some other place far from civilisation.
But I'll have to trek from Lagos to the south since my goal is to avoid contact with humans including those in cramped vehicles.
But what if the landlords in rural areas have envisage this and are getting ready one room huts to let out for 200k per year?
Besides that, villages are the headquarters of monkeys and bush animals.
Forests in Benin are where bats and others ebola-carrying creatures flourish.

How far can my ignorance take me?