Nothing was attractive anymore about my dress code. I had just one old generation red tie, a pair of black shoes with a dead sole, a white short-sleeve shirt with worn-out neck because of too much washing, and a pair of black trousers I borrowed from a friend.
I left the home hurriedly, looking old fashioned like a primitive headmaster.
‘O God please, help me because I am tired of searching…’, I prayed as I reached Bimco PLC, a first class company in the Insurance industry.
My first appearance gave the Human Resources Manager (HRM) a wrong impression of me. I became a victim of my own profession. A popular maxim I used to know flew to my mind. It says, “Beauty is greater recommendation than any letter of introduction”. I was really ugly in appearance.
‘Bad dressing! Very bad appearance!! Don’t you think you are an anagram of confusion and a compendium of several misalignment of corporate procedure?’ the HRM remarked sharply, as I stood before him.
I just kept calm like the biblical Lazarus that returned from the spirits. Fear started raising false alarm in my mind. My conscience started accusing me. I developed cold feet while my head was hot.
Nevertheless, that was a battle I must win since I needed the job desperately.
‘A dying lion must fight to the last’, I encouraged myself.
I stared at the man, pot-bellied and mustached, sitting before me.
‘Isn’t this man a Nigerian?’ I asked musingly and rhetorically.
There, I stood before a man, an opportunist, I guessed, reading sluggishly the CV of a Sociologist.
It was clear that I had Second Class (upper division) far and better than Mr. Alagbor, who got a Third Class grade in Political Science, yet, he got the position of the Administrative Manager in Bimco PLC.
Such is the character of a society that negates the principles of merit and competence - the wise stood aloof and watched the fool rule.
I started accusing the society of playing the game of ‘man-know-man’.
But, whom did I know at Bimco except Alagbor, who made partial introduction at the gate, that I was his childhood friend. So what?
I began ruminating again within seconds, like a goat chewing the cud in the midst of greener pastures; I saw the state failed woefully. Mediocre developed wings to fly while merit was dragged to helpless quagmire.
I saw shadows that resembled hungry, angry, and jobless teeming youths reached alarming proportion. They roamed the streets aimlessly, like stray puppies, until they got the job of thuggery or prostitution, as the case may be. Whilst, others played the game of drug addiction in frustration.
The shadows bade me bye and left. Sooner or later, I realized I was in a trance.
Babatunde wrote in from Lagos via
pauldegreat@yahoo.com
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