The Soft Issue
August 2017
Stories From Outside
HOW TO BE A MAGA
You are likely to get scammed if you
are desperate for job. imagine sprucing
your CV for that 200k job, only to
discover it is a ruse:
By: Oluwaseyi Adebola
T
he sun was scorching hot when I stepped
out of the house and made for the bus park. I
was on my way to Ikeja where I had what was
possibly the interview of a lifetime. But as of
now, it promised to be the ribbon that tied all my future
plans neatly together. You see, I just finished my NYSC,
a program I reckon is a complete waste of time, unless
you used the spare time it affords you to pursue some
personal development agenda of any sort. One thing
was crystal clear in my mind; I didn’t want to practice
as a doctor in Nigeria. So my plan was simple—or so it
seemed back then: get a high paying; low commitment;
possibly nonclinical job, while you write the foreign
exams that will save you from the rot that our health
service and postgraduate medical training was
becoming.
I scratched the pessimism on my left cheek.
That was all the confirmation I needed, first a
real human being was on hand to answer my
call. Secondly, they had just the kind of job I was
looking for. This life ehn, sometimes you just have
to work by faith, I told myself.
So there I was sweating profusely in my 2 year
old suit as I approached the gigantic skyscraper
where our interview was scheduled to hold. I
took a quick glance at my left wrist. I was about
30 minutes early. I took in the 30 or so people
gathered round the entrance of the building—an
eclectic army of ants around a disheveled cube of
sugar, nervous faces also trying to size me up. It
was clear we all needed whatever jobs they had
on offer. I struck a conversation with a gentleman
who very neatly summed up his adult life to me.
An engineer (my mind registered technician),
who was also a pastor (Hustler…check) and
was involved in a couple of more endeavors I
was too deep in thoughts to remember, being
preoccupied with more pressing matters. I was
scheduled to resume in the private hospital
where I was currently working at about 3 pm. This
was 8.30am. I’d have to leave here by 1.30pm
max.
So you should understand why I embraced carefree
oblivion when I got a text message 2 days back inviting
me for a job interview I could not remember applying
for. Supreme Wellness Health limited hereby invites
you for an interview at 10 am, in xxx building, Awolowo
way, Ikeja… Call this number for more information.
A gentle breeze of doubt tickled my cheeks, so I called
the number.
A young lady picked up the phone. Her diction was
decent enough.
Currently my pastor-engineer friend was
commenting on all the fine cars parked around
the building. He shook his head as he stared at
“Bla bla bla… we also have vacancy for a director of our
health maintenance organisation”
18
the
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