I have had the difficulty of just trying to exist without an interruption of my life by a throng of job seekers. Every day without fail. Relations, acquaintances, friends and casual bystanders. My brother’s daughter, my sister, my cousin, my friend’s daughter, my sister-in-law, my cousin’s son. They throw it at you. The list is endless, and lately, more and more, total strangers. As a public persona and director of ceremonies across multiple divides, I am considered one in cahoots with the powers that be. I cannot tell them what they saw. Were you not in the same space with Mr President, with FCT Minister Barrister Wike, and with top-level members of society? Were you not recently verbally celebrated by Vice President Kashim Shettima at a public function? (Thank you, Mr Vice President. I am deeply honoured. After all of these, who are you deceiving? Abeg, get our son, daughter, sister, or cousin a job. Who do I really tell that I have been on this journey myself with two of my children for two years? Come on, they say, don’t be ridiculous. But it’s all true. So I often admonish young people to take their jobs seriously because I know what the job market is like these days. Tough and unforgiving. I have seen young people who have tried unsuccessfully to get into a job for more than three years.
It was, therefore a rude shock for me when I visited a truly high government space this week and found a rather sloppy receptionist.
She was pretty nonplussed, with no smiles, and seemed lukewarm about her job. Even when I told her I was being expected, she deadpanned and did not pass the information to the security. I had to call the CEO before I was let through. Once my meeting was concluded, I made my way back to the reception. I was accompanied by the chief detail of the CEO. As I signed out the visitors form which she nonchalantly thrust at me, I asked her an all-important question. This question would often be preceded by ‘What’s your name?’ With no name tag, I could not decipher her name. But I forgot. I guess this was as a result of how mad I was. I asked her gently. Do you enjoy your job? She held my gaze, and shifting from one leg to another, she wore a bemused look and a shrug. I did not know what to make of this, so I repeated the question. Do you enjoy your job? She chose not to answer still, which suggested to me that she did not. The detail to the CEO had asked her to be free. She was uncomfortable but still did not answer. She had got my goat. I now proceeded to lecture her. You know, I said to her, ‘There are too many people looking for a job, and if you are not really interested in such a high-paying organisation, you might want to give it up for someone else who really needs it.’ She nodded lamely.
You know, I continued, if you do not like your job, you are unlikely to be loyal to your organisation. The detail to the CEO nodded. ‘Give it up,’ I said to her, a touch louder. ‘Let someone hungry for a job get it.’ She smiled a weak smile and mouthed, ‘Thank you, ma.’
There were several things wrong with what she did. I will mention a few.
One, as a receptionist, she had no business being sloppy or uninterested in the establishment’s guests.
Two, she had no business acting like she was disinterested in her job in front of a total stranger.
Three, she had no discernment in front of her CEO’s chief detail.
Four…I have no idea who hired her, but she certainly cannot be the face of the establishment.
The workplace now looks like a play space. What in the name of God is going on? I rest!
