Short Story: The First Monday of 2017 - Hard Work!

Short Story, The First Monday of 2017 - Hard Work!

First Monday of 2017 - Hard Work!


My alarm is crazy, it never misses a day to sound that alarming ringtone. It's the first Monday of the year, a public holiday at that, and it still jerked me up from sleep.

A battle ensued in me; my brain is up, but my body won't rise. The brain knows I've to hit the road to resume work early, but my body feels it shouldn't be working on this day. I tried to rest more. My brain won't go back to sleep. My stomach is running. I can't fight it, so I hit the toilet. 20 mins later, I've already scrubbed Facebook and Twitter, but not a poop dropped.

God knows, I should rest today. But I just can't do that, because, like the Nigerian Military, Police, and other security officials, I never have a holiday. I'm one of those who ensures that you people have fun filled holidays. I'm one of those who has to work on holidays so that the malls, stores, cinemas, restaurants, bars, parks, beaches, and other places you have fun can be opened. Am I happy doing this? Do I get paid well enough to sacrifice holidays for work? I'd talk about that sooner or later. There's no such thing as Falz The Bahd Guy's popular lexicon, "soft work", right here is hard work!

It's a cold morning, harmattan cold. I got up and picked up my bathing sponge. Oh, there's no bathing soap. The toothpaste is not even here. I got both and cleaned up. The next issue was what to wear. This shirt would never look nice on this jean. I dressed up and rocked my only brown shoe. It matched perfectly with my brown bag.

I'm good to go, but not before I packed my sandwich. And no, it isn't your usual sandwich. It was the leftover milk bread I got two days ago at Shoprite. I could down it with ewa gaun (beans) at work. I also packed my own share of the New Year's celebrations drink - it was a can malt. My breakfast is so certain now. I shut my windows and left.

This BRT bus is colder than the harmattan breeze. That Pilot (bus driver) must be from Russia - he should know well to put off the air conditioner. I didn't complain. I sat in my second favorite corner of the bus - just around the exit. I turned on my personal hotspot, connected to it on the other phone, and started devouring my daily dose of contents. This article about Ayo Fayose and his stomach infrastructure program was nothing but the truth. I read more articles.

The lady sitting beside me greeted me when she came into the bus. It was time to access her facial beauty while she took a nap. She looked young and innocent, but not very beautiful. I pondered on reading the book in my bag, but never did because I didn't want to disrupt the sandwich in my bag.

Suddenly, my mind switched to the news program on radio. It was been delivered in hysterical Yoruba language. You'd marvel at how the newscaster twisted the news of the murdered Nigerian man in South Africa by the Police. Then came am an interview where someone was giving his opinion on the present Federal Government. Power tussle in the APC and the bad economy was the fulcrum of his opinion.

I reflected on supporting a CHANGE in federal government. I regretted supporting this government. Had I know, I'd have remained non-partisan or shut the hell up and not influence other people since I actually didn't vote because I was an INEC AdHoc staff during the last general elections. I got back on Facebook and saw a sponsored post with an eye-catching title, "Are we going to make love or have sex?"

The writer was a Ghanian. I remember how Ghanaians' romantic short story books flooded Nigerian secondary schools many years ago. There's must be something about Ghanaians and romance. It's evident in their home videos too as they're mostly filled with love, lust, and sex. Immediately I was done reading the engaging article, I felt I'd to write this stuff you're reading right now.

My stop was stadium. Yes, the bus stop between the National stadium and Teslim Balogun stadium. Just as I got off the bus, two ladies alighted too, and I kind of felt they were hookers because they looked used up from working all night. This feeling seem so right because I can see a wet patch in the crack between one of the ladies butt. They must've sex-worked all night in my beloved town, and it also buttressed the facts that not only Ikorodu girls are sex workers in Ikorodu. Many ladies come from faraway Mushin, Ojuelegba, Surulere etc. to get that cash. It's not my problem anyway.

I have particularly enjoyed alighting from the bus in stadium for one major reason. Can you guess? Haha, I enjoy the sight of people jogging around this part of Lagos. And no, my main enjoyment doesn't come from the whole people jogging, but the busty ladies.

Oh dear, how do you jog around in a skintight sportswear with all that butt and big chest? I can practically make out the shape of your labia in that crack between your thighs. This is an ultimate sexual harassment on passersby like myself. I'm always confused and forced to stare at you, whereas it arouses that part of my brain that could leave my dongle throbbing in my briefs. Haa, if not for self-restrain, I could just... never mind!

And on this Monday, I could've just stopped and get to work in a Keke NAPEP, but because I wanted to see a few interesting joggers, I took a long walk. I needed the walk too, for fitness reasons, or don't I? I'm at work now and none of my inferior workers are on the ground. Should I punish the erring workers for lateness without notice with a fine? It's a new year and I'm going to be lenient - at least for now. They barely earn the country's minimum wage, and after couple fines of N1,000 for one late coming, they may not be left with N8,000 at the end of the month.

How then do you get your workers to be punctual and effective? Am I not going to hurt the good benefits the company should gain for staff's punctuality by being lenient? Am I being emotional and soft? I'd leave you to do the judgment. I'm off to find the beans seller, and if they're not here, I'd buy sardine and butter from the roadside Mallam's kiosk. I'm hungry already.

Comments

What Other People Are Reading: