ShortStory I Hidden Feature

HIDDEN FEATURE

       The 34-year-old Mr. Gbenga Adeniyi who was still a bachelor couldn’t believe himself that within eight months stay at FranCok Brewery Plc., he could rise to the position of Marketing Manager of one of the branches. He initially absorbed it as a mere dream but later came in terms with the reality. Though he eventually accepted that it was real, he saw the elevation as a sheer luck that could come to anybody, acknowledging that most employees in various firms were still undergoing probation period after eight months of their employment.

        The above perception made him remain humble and focused in his duty post. He was invariably the first person to report to office before any other staff except the gateman who lived on the premises of the company. In spite of the fact that he was one of the major bosses in the branch, he was still acting like a junior staff to the utmost amazement of all and sundry. Gbenga’s visible features were unarguably, to assert the least, unparalleled and the best among equals, particularly when it called for excellence, trustworthiness and dedication.

        “Good day, sir.” Gbenga greeted as he stepped into the office of the Branch Manager (BM), Mr. Ben Kalu.

        “Good day, Mr. Adeniyi.” responded the boss who was dressed in a white caftan as he was seated in his office chair. “Please, sit down.” He offered, gesticulating.

        “Thank you, sir.” Gbenga appreciated, sat on one of the seats sited directly opposite the boss.

       “You are welcome.” said the 43-year-old Mr. Kalu.

        There was a brief quietness. “I sent for you.” The boss broke the silence. “Something has been bothering me.” He hinted, paused. “Not just me, but the entire management.”

        Gbenga was attentive, couldn’t wait to receive the message. “What could that be, sir?” he thought aloud anxiously as he was seated in a black suit.

       “I have been thinking.” quoth Mr. Kalu, leaning his skull on his right arm that stood erectly on the table. “In fact, the management has been thinking.” He quickly corrected.

       Gbenga remained attentive and silent, though perturbed, placing his hands on his laps.

      “Please, remind me,” the boss rode on. “How old are you now?”

       With the question, the picture became clearer to Gbenga, thus he needn’t further exegesis. “I will be 35 by July this year.” He informed, smiling stylishly.

        Since it was April, it implied that in just three months time, he would clock 35-years-old.

       “Interesting.” quoth Mr. Kalu, nodding. “So, what’s your plan?” he added in a jiffy.

       “I don’t understand, sir.” He inquired in false pretence.

       “How?” said the boss. “Isn’t the question self explanatory?”

       “I don’t think so, sir.”

       “At 34, nearing 35, you are still single,” he said. “Though working in a notable company as a Marketing Manager.”

        Gbenga dished out a dazzling smile. “Oh, was that what you meant?” he said. “Well, I am working on it.” He supplemented without much ado.

       “Working on it?”

       “Yes sir.”

       “Meaning..?”

       “Soonest, I shall invite the management.”

         Mr. Ben Kalu smiled heavily. “Are you sure about this?” he asked sceptically.

       “Of course, sir.”

       “Good news, good news!” the boss exclaimed elatedly, allowing his arms to rest on the table. “That means, you have seen the person?” he added.

       “You mean, the lady?”

       “Yes,” quoth the boss. “You have a fiancée already?”

        Gbenga was speechless, couldn’t attend to the enquiry.

       “Mr. Adeniyi?” the boss aroused his consciousness that seemed asleep.

       “Yes sir.”

       “Didn’t you hear the question?”

        “I heard you, sir.”

        “So..?”

        “Hmm, hmm…” Gbenga murmured.

        “Hmm, what?” said Mr. Kalu furiously. “No answer?”

        “Not really, sir.” replied Gbenga. “Just that…”

        “That what?” the boss interrupted, angered.

          By the look of things, he wasn’t enjoying the suspense in any way.

        “I am still working on it, sir.”

          Mr. Kalu shook his head sympathetically. “For how long will you work on it?” he queried. “I can see you are not serious about this.”

        “Not what you think, sir.” responded Gbenga. “It’s just that women are unpredictable nowadays.” He supplemented. “If you rushed into it, you might be making a big mistake.”

        “You are right, my dear.” concurred Mr. Kalu. “But you just have to be fast.” He conscientized, paused. “Because…” He added, stopped.

        “What sir?”

        “The management is losing patience.” He disclosed hesitantly.

         There was abrupt absolute tranquility. “I will, sir.” Gbenga broke the silence.

        “Alright,” quoth the boss. “You can take your leave.”

        “Thank you, sir.” Gbenga appreciated, attempted to stand up. “Lest I forget, I am very delighted over the concern of the management.” he added. “But I promise you, I won’t let you down.” He assured, stood up.

        “I believe you, Mr. Adeniyi.” replied the boss, still seated. “Just be careful, okay?” he urged.

        “I will, sir.” said Gbenga. “Thank you so much.” He added, about to take his leave.

         Mr. Kalu hastily stretched out his right arm for a handshake; Mr. Gbenga Adeniyi reciprocated to the warmth gesture. “Do have a great day.” The boss wished as he freed his hand.

        “Thank you, sir.” Gbenga responded, turned his back and eventually took his leave majestically in a sober mood.

        When he got to his office that very morning, at about 11:25am, he was occupied with series of thoughts and mixed feelings that he only managed to concentrate on his obligations. Owing to the situation, everyone that walked into his office was haphazardly attended to. People who witnessed the scenario kept wondering what was really eating the workaholic Gbenga up. The day being 30^th April, barely twelve days after his promotion, was indeed hell to his person.

        The narration of what transpired thereafter ought to be left till the subsequent edition, so remain tuned.

N.B: This is a continuation of the previous story titled ‘Worthwhile suspense’. Only the title changed.

FDN Nwaozor

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ShortStory I Worthwhile Suspense (II)

WORTHWHILE SUSPENSE (II)

        When they got to the premises of their final destination after about an hour’s drive, the apparently 42-year-old driver Mr. Ketu applied the brakes without much ado.

       “Please, excuse us.” the boss Mr. Sule Ibrahim instructed Mr. Ketu while seated firmly in his seat.

       “Okay sir.” concurred Mr. Ketu, opened his door and stepped out.

        At this time Mr. Gbenga Adeniyi was deeply perplexed, though from all indications he was aware of where they were, thus wasn’t in need of any clarification.

        “Do you know where we are?” the boss asked the moment the driver excused them.

        “Yes sir.”

        “Where are we?”

        “The newest branch of our company.”

          He got it right. That was the newest chapter of FranCok Brewery situated in Kogi State, the neighbouring state to where the parent body of the firm was established.

          “Beautiful!” Mr. Ibrahim enthused, looking strongly into his eyes. “Have you been here before?”

          “No sir.”

          “In other words, this is your first time?”

          “Yes sir.”

          “Alright.” quoth Mr. Ibrahim. “Do you know why we are here?”

          “If I say yes, then I am a liar.” Gbenga replied. “I wouldn’t know, sir.” He added in a jiffy.

           Mr. Ibrahim was pleased over the intelligent manner in which he answered the question. “Do you wish to know?” he said.

         “Definitely, sir.” quoth Gbenga, felt like defecating in his seat but summoned courage afterwards.

         “I know you would say I have stressed you so much.” Mr. Ibrahim thought aloud cheerfully, facing him.

         “No sir,” Gbenga refuted. “I am always at your service.”

         Mr. Ibrahim was marveled that he could tender such a response despite all the inconveniences he had caused him so far. “Sure?” he verified.

        “Yes sir.” he frantically replied. “After all, life is all about challenges.” He added.

         The last remark struck the feelings of the boss, thus he became deeply impressed. He looked at him, nodding. “Please, join me.” he urged, attempted to step out. “Let’s take a walk.” He said, eventually stepped out and jammed the car door.

         Gbenga followed suit, although deeply perturbed over what the next line of action entailed. He kept asking himself why the Human Resources Manager (HRM) decided to place him on such rigorous mental test on the first day of the weekdays being Monday. As Mr. Sule Ibrahim led the walk towards the main building of the entire firm, he (Gbenga) didn’t stop looking around the overall premises as he keenly observed each of the staff that passed by, tendering a resounding salutation to the HRM.

        “Gbenga.” the boss called.

        “Yes sir.”

        “Come up, come up.” He enjoined, asking him to walk hand-in-hand with him.

        Immediately, Gbenga doubled his steps and started walking right beside the 47-year-old boss. They were like a father and his son; the same complexion, stature and almost same height. Both were in corporate attire, although the former was in English whilst the latter was in native.

       As they walk passed each of the offices on their way, the workers equally observed them with keen interest. They were eager to know the identity of the lad who was worthy to walk hand-in-hand with the ‘almighty’ HRM. Every staff in the establishment came through the HRM, thus Mr. Ibrahim’s identity was well known. “Who could this be?” one of the female staff named Jennifer whispered to her colleague Ukot of same gender, as they were seated in their office.

       “Maybe he is one of the newest staff.” Ukot thought aloud.

       “Newest staff?” echoed Jennifer.

       “Yes.” quoth Ukot. “Can’t you see, he is new and fresh?”

         Jennifer nodded. “Who knows the department he would be placed under?” she soliloquized, though to the hearing of Ukot.

         Both of them were in the marketing department, and were Masters’ degree holders in Management Science. They were the founding staff of the branch, which was set up about one year back; suffice it to say that they were Gbenga’s senior colleagues. In terms of qualification, they were also his senior because the man in question only had a first degree in Economics to his credit, though he was aspiring to return to school for a post graduate programme as soon as possible.

        “Maybe Production.” Ukot responded.

        “Why do you think so?”

        “Nothing,” said Ukot. “I just think the Production Department needs more hands.”

        “How?”

        “Of course, there are still few personnel in the department.” She observed.

        “Okay ooh..” exclaimed Jennifer.

         In a few seconds time, Mr. Ibrahim kept one of the offices open with one of the keys in his hand, walked in alongside Gbenga.

         It was a well designed, decorated and furnished office. It was conspicuously lacking virtually nothing; needless to assert that it was befitting. An executive chair was sited right before the well-decorated table found in it.

        Mr. Ibrahim calmly sat on one of the seats sited directly opposite the executive one, and instructed Gbenga to sit on the latter which was meant for the host.

        “Sir, you mean I should sit there?” he verified, pointing at the seat in question.

        “Yes,” quoth Mr. Ibrahim. “Go and sit there.”

        “Why, if I may ask?”

        “Because, it is your seat.”

        “My seat..?” asked Gbenga, confused. “How, sir?”

        “Yes,” replied the HRM. “Henceforth, you shall be sitting on this seat.” He informed, gesticulating.

        “I still don’t understand, sir.”

        Before he could finish, the boss dipped his hand in one of his trousers’ pockets, brought out an enveloped letter and stretched it toward him. “Congratulations, Mr. Gbenga Adeniyi,” he exclaimed as he extend the white envelop. “You are now the Marketing Manager of this branch.” He notified eventually.

        “Waow…!” the 34-year-old Gbenga managed to exclaim, received the envelop, opened it hurriedly, and therein discovered that he wasn’t mistakenly informed.

        Immediately, the HRM quickly brought out a bunch of keys from his pocket, equally handed it over to him. “This is your car keys,” he informed as he stretched out his hand. “Your driver as well as the car is waiting for you outside.” He added, smiling heavily.

        “Oh my God..!!” Gbenga shouted, became astonished, couldn’t even bothered sitting on the executive seat as requested.

        “Once again,” quoth Mr. Ibrahim. “On behalf of the Management, I say congratulations.”

         Gbenga hastily walked to him and hugged him tightly and passionately. “Thank you very much, sir.” He appreciated, gushed out tears of joy uncontrollably.

        “You deserve it, my dear.” the boss enthused.

          The drama continued afterwards, so keep a date with us same time next week!

FDN NWAOZOR

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Opinion I That Unscheduled Meeting of Imo Political Juggernauts

THAT UNSCHEDULED MEETING OF IMO POLITICAL JUGGERNAUTS

        

The last time I checked painstakingly, the elite and the masses had no meeting point. The scenario has existed unabated ab initio, precisely from the moment of the world’s commencement. I stand to be corrected though, but the gospel truth remains that there are two major classes of people on this mother earth, namely: the upper class and the lower class.

         

In view of the above assertion, the so-called middle class might be opportune to meet with the higher (upper) class in a few occasions. In the same vein, the lower class is usually privileged to meet with those of the middle class. But it is often rare to witness an occasion whereby the lower class is having a meeting with the upper class unless in a situation in which the latter wishes to address the former. It’s noteworthy that the masses constitute the lower class.

         

This abrupt analysis of mine is informed by what transpired two weeks ago in Imo State, the Eastern Heartland. During the period in review, the governor of the state in the person of Chief Rochas Okorocha reportedly met, albeit inadvertently, with some cultural and political elites from the state at a burial ceremony that took place in Nkwerre Local Government Area (LGA). It was the burial of Late Chief Amobi Nwachukwu, a brother to the revered Justice Iheme Nwosu.

         

In that event, the governor was spotted cracking jokes with some perceived critics of the ongoing Rescue Mission Administration having found himself in their midst unannounced. The persons in question whom were mainly staunch members of the People’s Democratic Party (PDP) as well as purported affiliates of the said political party, included the Senator representing Imo West Senatorial District Chief Hope Uzodinma, the state’s Chairman of the PDP Chief Nnamdi Anyaehie, and the dethroned Traditional Ruler of Obinugu Autonomous Community in Orlu Dr. Cletus Ilomuanya, among others.

        

While in the house lounge where the select persons were hosted, it seemed Governor Okorocha was standing alone because he was apparently the only faithful of the ruling All Progressives Congress (APC) amid the gathering that comprised mainly the PDP faithful, if not some of his aides who were present at the arena. As their stay lasted, the members of the unplanned meeting including the governor, cracked both costly and trivial jokes intensely to their delight coupled with that (the delight) of their respective aides present at the enclosed venue.

        

When the news got to my desk, I kept laughing inwards; hence, told myself that it was a sign of lesson cum warning to their teeming followers, particularly the masses among them. It’s no longer news that each time these political gladiators disagree on certain political issues, you would see their followers in their numbers constituting nuisance on our major roads, all in the name of defending their role models or ‘masters’.

         

In some quarters, you would find these uninformed followers engaging in nagging or physical combat just to settle a difference that emanated from their uncalled argument. It is indeed shameful that in most cases, they go extra mile creating enmity among themselves. Funnily enough, the men whom they fight on their behalf might be unaware of the disagreement existing between them; in other words, these politicians may not know that some able-bodied men, and perhaps women, out there are endangering their lives for their sake.

        

It’s arguably high time the masses understood that our politicians are bound to disagree to agree. I have disclosed it for the umpteenth time that most times they deliberately create a scene just to attract awareness or people’s attention. The worst thing that would happen to a politician is to found him/herself in a state of oblivion, thus they could employ any means towards ensuring that their personalities remain relevant in any society they belong to.

         

Who on earth would believe, even in a dream, that Gov. Okorocha would be spotted cracking jokes with Dr. Ilomuanya? Any sane and rational mind in the state is of the notion that the aforementioned persons are currently enemies and could never sit together at an arena let alone creating a scene for laughter. It is even mind-boggling to acknowledge that these individuals can settle their differences at anytime and anywhere, in the absence of their teeming followers who refused to be convinced that the ‘men at the top’ are just creating scenes for fun.

        

Yes, they would invariably settle in the absence of their followers because you would hardly witness an occasion where the two classes are seated at the same spot or seen discussing issues like man-to-man. And, all these are ostensibly to the detriment of the masses. It is surely at the expense of the followers because if reconciliation eventually took place between the warring politicians/elites, the masses would remain enemies among themselves, thereby continue to overheat the polity.

         

If only we would be reasonable for once, we would comprehend that, social wise, the elite and the masses are not unlike two parallel lines that have no meeting point. Against this backdrop, the latter aren’t required to drink Panadol for the headache of the former. They know the best and apt drug to take for their headache, so leave them alone. Think about it!

FDN Nwaozor

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