I’m not feeling too good at the moment.
Work + Work + Work + More Work = Stress, MeThinks?
I explain my position to the goddess but she doesn’t seem to care. She goes on to explain to me how her peers have been doing far better than she has and how much of a bad investment I am.
I complain about the absence of health insurance benefits with this Towncrier job office.
She starts to cry.
I’m not in top shape but I’d have to be a gentleman and resume office from my rest bed, beating the lousy gong, only because AfroSays:
I AM NOT A MAN
Many had tried to win the chief’s daughter in marriage: from top management at the company, from around his wealthy social circle, even from out of the country. I’m still wondering why he gave me a chance; Yes, I be fine boy, but I’m sure that little ego-booster of mine wasn’t even considered at all when the chief made the unspoken mental decision to let me court Beatrice.
Bashful Beatrice and I have been at it for a little over a year now and I hear the wedding bells ringing. The whole world knows we’re tying the knot soon but I haven’t actually asked the Chief for his daughter’s formally. Today, I’m in one of the five sitting rooms in his Ikoyi mansion, waiting for him to attend to the matter at hand. Beatrice is right next to me, looking for a missing pencil on the floor – being shy in the cutest way she knows how. She’s already explained to me how her family works, but I’ve never had any strong opportunities to interact with her aloof, distant parents or her uppity relatives, however, #TodayNaToday! I believe that since I didn’t get approached by the usual All-Black-Everything, two-man intimidation squad as all of her other suitors in the past had been, her father either likes or respects me.
Today is my chance to establish my real first impression with the Chief and I am determined to stand as a man with dignity even though I’m a public grammar school educated, OND holding, hustler with a humble background, and despite what Beatrice has told me about his possessive bothering on disgustingly intrusive nature.
I take a look at sweet-Bea and I’m still trying to explain to myself why the Chief favored me above other more-suitable suitors. She was his only child and the world expects at least someone of money-blood merit if royal blood isn’t immediately available. I have always felt damn lucky but today is the day to confirm my luck.
Chief finally shows up in a towel after three hours of waiting and gives me five minutes. His convex, satellite-dish-like stomach intimidates me by from time to time by peeping at me from under the towel every three seconds and beaming threatening microwave signals. I almost plead with him to stop taking those deep breaths. I however somehow summon the courage to relay my honorable intentions, all the while holding Bea’s hand in the highest tension. She seems to have escaped off with her little mind to Jupiter and her body is as cold as the Ice tea we were served on arrival.
Chief takes the deepest breath ever as if to instruct his satellite dish to launch a target-seeking missile to assassinate me on my way home for even daring to make such an unbecoming request. He looks straight at me.
I try, sincerely I do to return his gaze but I cannot be a man. After 0.000075 seconds, I break gaze and start untying and re-tying my shoelaces to stop my shoes from vibrating and causing an embarrassing noise like a hair clipper. I feel fresh sweat lines break out on my back in torrents. I wet my boxers a little.
I am not a man.
That must be why he’s offering me his surname.