The Banker

Diary of a Naija Banker Episode 2

Hi Diary,

Your Baby girl for life is here again, shall we begin? 

Today, we’ll gist about how a typical day goes for me.

Up and early, I wake up grudgingly, getting ready hurriedly, to certainly catch up with the staff bus by 5:30am or be left behind abysmally… (Hope you are feeling my rhymes…hehehe).

People of God, 5:30 am is an ungodly hour for a child of God who the Lord giveth good sleep to be out already, but I kid you not, there are people who are up much earlier, though I never cease to wonder how they cope. It’s a major struggle for me…this island to mainland commute. If you don’t go through this on a daily and you live in Lagos and its environs … all I can say is I envy you mehn, you don’t know what God has done for you.

So the commute on a good day takes about 1hr 10mins, this is without the heavy traffic, just pockets of traffic here and there. But you guys, Monday Mornings are something else… (in wizkid’s singing voice)… ‘I can’t explaaaiiinnn’. The traffic of the whole world makes its  HQ on 3rd mainland bridge! The journey which ordinarily should take about 45 mins, turns to 1hr 10mins, then metamorphosizes (that’s the only way I can explain what happens, I hope y’all are feeling my English today *big grin*) into 2hrs 30mins.I just sleep all over again in the bus till about 8 am when I get to the office…isn’t that lovely? That’s the only good side until you want to take a pee or the major one beckons…hahaha…my brethren, you are on your own…”I sorry for you, I sorry for you my brother o” (in Adekunle Gold’s singing voice) if this happens to you.

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I get to the office…and then the routine begins, let me not bore you with all I do between 6:45am and 6:30 pm because I get bored and annoyed with it myself. Don’t get me wrong, I get bored doesn’t mean I’m  idle, in fact, very far from it. I get bored because it’s a routine, not so mentally engaging,but  more of physical stressing out which is not even good for my mental health. I get very very very very busy, in between meeting deadlines, dealing with colleagues and vendors, pacifying aggrieved customers, trying so hard not to tell some customers to literally go to hell, lol, (that takes the grace of God and the thought of not getting an alert on pay day …. hehehe) . Have I even told you how difficult it is to deal with Nigerians, and how rude Nigerians are? Especially when they think the individual is beneath them, my goodness, you don’t wanna go there..

Let me even do small aproko about different types of customers, see how excited you are for gist, lools. 

The wealthy ones are the coolest, whey they are angry, sorry upset (know that people that have money don’t get angry); there is a feeling that comes with when you have money and someone pisses you off, you just remember your *akkant (account, for the posh people in here) balance and the thought just makes you happy and you let go of the aggression and you just think to yourself, this life sweet sha, and as Davido sang, you have “assurance” henhen, you know what I mean,  you  are simply upset …by the way, that’s my baby girl life’s dream, hahaha… So when they express their displeasure just show empathy and be truly sorry and immediately try to alleviate the situation, all will be well. Another category are the semi-rich ones,those ones that have small money ehn, chai, they are the ones that will come and be threatening to call one governor and Mr President over one N 10 excess debit in their accounts.*rolling my eyes, whew* which was used by them anyways but they won’t remember, I call them “the do you know who I am people”…lools. And then you have the African parents customers, show any form of disrespect laidis, they will treat your fuck up (apologies for the language, but you need to understand the gravity of how you will be dealt with), just  be calling them mummy, daddy, ma,sir, your life will be sweet. Then we have the cool expatriates, these ones  will be forming “you are beneath me, you underdeveloped country child”…L.M.A.O. In my mind, I am like this under developed world that funds your developed country life, Kpele o, if you don’t gerraout of here rai now. Whew, my eyes have seen o, chai. 

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Anyways, I try to finish up my duties, struggle to meet up with the staff bus, fully exhausted and not useful to anyone, spend about 2 and half hours in traffic again (now, I catch up with my social media and sleep off 75% of the journey), get home around 9pm, there are bad days of 10pm (imagine “omoluabi” getting home at that time). Thanks to everybody getting blessed (and buying cars, though we all claim the economy is bad and there is no money anywhere…lools), bad governance, bad roads, and the newest one, traffic hawkers who I heard now purposely dig up the road to cause bad portions, so there will be traffic and they will be able to sell and make a living. Yeah, you heard me right, they do that…can you imagine? what will a daughter of the most High not hear, hmmmnn. Lagos is a survival city, and it’s the survival of the fittest. My dream of the baby girl life is what is keeping me fit for this survival guys, because I honestly don’t know how I do this.

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Dear Diary… enough for today, we will catch up another time. Let me go and prepare to get up at the ungodly hour….I will be back before you know it, and if you know it, well well …hehehe… xoxo.

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