Penny Wise

It was a busy day for me, so many deadlines to meet. This made me a bit angry too. So I was a little hard on the keyboard, pounding the keys away in a wild frenzy. My music blared on from the speakers of my laptop:

Month don end, month don end - o
Oga no wan pay salary
Oga don chop our salary - o
Ewi eeh, eeh, ewi eeh, eeh...

It was a crazy song, done obviously by a crazy guy who must have been frustrated by his boss. I laughed sardonically to myself. It was just the music for the day, for the season. It was the end of the month. It was about time too for Oga, whom we called JP, to begin to bark at everyone like a rabid dog that has lost half of an ear to ravenous flies. Therefore my music was calculated. Well calculated.
“Kpala, will you put off that music!” JP barked at me. I looked up from my work. I hadn't even heard him come in. It was, yes, past 4pm, about the time he reappears at the office after disappearing into his house just across the street from the Printing Press at 2pm to observe his siesta.
“You are looking at me! I said put off that music! What kind of music is that, eh?” Then he hissed and climbed the three flight of stairs to his office and shut the door behind him. He would be there till 5pm, closing time, and then he would come out so we could lock up the place. This is, of course, if he wasn't going for one of his numerous meetings in town.
I hissed angrily and only turned down the volume of the music to the barest minimum. I punched harder, angrier than ever, at the keyboard. Father Akiji would send his boy just before we close for the day for his work, and Madam Ihienacho would be coming herself for the proofreading of her daughter's wedding programme. I hadn't even touched that. It was already past 4pm. My stomach was on fire because I hadn't had anything since breakfast, but who cares? I had no dime in my pocket, but does JP care? Life stank!
“Good afternoon sir,” came a timid voice. I was so lost in my thoughts and my work I had equally missed her entrance. Believe was supposed to have come since 11am for her interview, and she was only strolling in at the eleventh hour. I almost barked at her, in the very tone of JP himself, but I found myself smiling sheepishly instead. I fumed inside me with rage. Ragenat myself. At my stupid folly.
“You are welcome.”
“Thank you... I'm so sorry. I went to plait my hair since morning. I didn't know it would take so long... Can we still have the interview now?”
Believe was introduced to me by Udwak. She said they were friends, and fed me with a convincing and pitiable story why Believe really needed the job. Rhoda, my woman, as everyone called her, had gained admission into the university, and had to leave her job at the Press as the cashier cum assistant to yours truly. Her place had been vacant for the past three months, and JP didn't like that; neither did I, especially as I have to leave my pressing job to run errands like withdrawing, or paying in hundreds of thousands of naira, hopping from one bank to another like a grasshopper. It was killing. Believe was therefore necessary.
“Sure, why not? Do take a seat,” I said to her, still wearing my stupid smile which grew stupider by the second. My gaze trailed to her hair. The hair that she had gone to make since morning. Inside I cursed her because I was going to have to stay back for an extra hour to see this through. She had to be interviewed, and the earlier the better, not only for the Press and JP, but for me as well. If shenis good at the job, why, I would be resting most of the time while she slaved for her money - and mine. But for now, though I wore that stupid smile, I cursed her inside for the extra hour she would cost me. My stomach was on fire. Why are women so powerful?
We fell to.
“Do you have any previous experience on how to operate a computer?” I threw at her.
“Yes sir; I attended a computer school after my secondary education,” she replied.
“For how long?”
“It was for six months, sir.” I liked the way she ‘sired’ me constantly. It filled my stomach a bit. With pride.
“So why do you think you can do this job? Is it because of you six months training?”
“Sir, I really need the job. I have been selling matches and other such odds and ends since I finished secondary school to eke out some kind of living for myself. I really need the job, sir,” she pleaded. It was either she didn't understand my question or she was just plain desperate.
I regarded her slowly. I wondered why a young girl like her would be so desperate for a job. I wanted to ask her this. I wanted to asks her where her parents were, and why they weren't responsible for her. But I didn't. I didn't want to open up some sad memories of the past if that was what they would be. I decided to let things be. The interview was just a formality anyway. I, more than the Press, needed her services.
Finally I said, “Fine. Let's see what you'be got.” I stood up from my chair and told her to sit and type. Oh! Frustration of frustrations! Anger replaced my hunger, and churned my insides. Why, in the name of all good things, are women so powerful?
Slowly, she punched key ‘A’, and I watched her search for key ‘S’. I couldn't believe it at first. I thought she was admiring my laptop, until I saw her tracing the keys with her finger. Didn't she see key ‘S’ near key ‘A’? I wondered in bitter anger as I watched her. She eventually found it and punched that too. Then her eyes travelled to the screen, probably to ascertain whether he ‘AS’ was properly seated. And thus she continued. I decided to remain calm, turn a blind eye, and swallow all, hook, line, sinker, bait and fish.
“Ah! Kpala, you are still here? I'm on my way o!” came the voice of Judas who works at the machine section. He was already at the door on his way out. It was already 5pm, and others at the machine and binding section were already filing out and gathering speed, sort of, at the door, like migratory birds. Obviously they had seen JP’s car still outside, which meant he was still within the premises, and could come out, as he does sometimes, and assign more work for everyone. When he does this, he calls it extra time, and paid peanuts for it. Nobody liked it. Yet nobody ever complained. At least, not to him. But grumbled and murmured? Yes, a lot, amongst themselves. The fact that Father Akiji's boy and Madam Ihienacho weren't here yet only pacified me a little. They weren't coming today. That was certain.
JP finally came out of his office. “Kpala, you are working extra time, are you?” he asked. He thought she must be a customer.
“No sir, she is the one I told you about, who was coming for the interview,” I replied.
“Good afternoon, sir,” she greeted him, standing up from her work, somewhat gittery.
“Good evening, my daughter,” JP corrected her. “You are welcome. Er, Kpala, after the interview, you lock up and bring the keys to the house.”
“Will do, sir,” I replied, and he left us.
After we had crawled on for another hour and she was only on her fourth line, she asked me, “How can I have the bracket? This figures instead keep coming,” she said, pointing to the keys; “probably because it is the one under while the open bracket and the close bracket are the ones on top.”
I looked at her, still boiling over with anger and hunger, but my face showed nothing of the sort. Only my lips felt dry and my throat was parched. I had been observing her quietly as she spent ages looking for both keys that had what she was looking for, passing them severally, before she finally saw them. Then she spent centuries trying to apply them, before she called my attention to her predicament.
At this point, I'd had it up to my neck. “Did you say you attended a computer school at some point in your life?” I asked her sardonically.
“Yes, sir... for six months,” she stuttered, as if afraid the job was slipping out of her fingers, like sand in an hour glass, if she doesn't add the last phrase.
“Didn't you even touch the computer during this period of your, er, training?”
“Mhm.”
“‘Mhm’ you did, or ‘Mhm’ you didn't?”
“Mhm, I did, sir,” she replied, in a mournful tone.
“And you spent forever typing barely four lines?” I didn't know I could bring myself to have the stomach to wear a frown at her.
She perceived the job was truly slipping out of her fingers. Her eyes began to gather a small pool. “Please, sir, help me,” she said, bowing her head. The pool dropped into her laps.
“Do you think you can really, really work with me?” I sounded unforgiving. She said nothing more, totally defeated. I doubted if she ever attended any computer school. I thought about Udwak. Udwak was a good friend. It would be a shame to hurt her, by turning down this her one request for a favour.
Finally I said, “Fine, you can go.”
She looked up at me with her beautiful eyes, only now watery. “Sir?”
“No, let's go and see Oga. I'll tell him that you passed and that I am satisfied and convinced we can work together,” I heard myself say.
“Oh! Thank you sir! God bless you, sir!” her face lit up with absolute joy and gratitude.
“But then, this is what you'd do: when we get there, you must be bold and not be fidgetty... Okay? Whatever questions he thows at you, all you need do is to answer yes to them all. Understand?”
“Yes! Yes sir!” she replied, still elated.
I shut down the system, switched off all electrical appliances, turned off the light and marched out with her. As I turned the key in the lock of the front door, I was thinking to myself, Am I crazy, or am I crazy?
I walked with her to JP’s house across the road from the Press, and knocked on the front door. Then Dave opened up and let us in. He was JP’s eldest son who had refused to get married. He publicly calls himself a celibate. I secretly call him a fool and a misogynist.
When JP eventually showed up from his room, he asked, “Kpala, have you finished with her?”
“Yes, sir, I have,” I replied.
“So?”
“She is exceptional, sir; I believe we can work together. I am satisfied with her,” I replied without batting an eyelid.
“So, my daughter, you are ready to work, are you?” JP asked Believe.
“Yes, sir,” she replied.
“You have knowledge of the computer?”
“Yes sir.”
“You went to some school of sorts?“
“Yes sir.”
“For how long?”
“Yes sir.”
I didn't know she was also gullible.
“Hmm?” JP was perplexed. The foolish girl was intending to make a donkey out of me. She answered “Yes sir” again, as though she was born to do it.
JP turned to me. His eyes said it all. “Kpala?”
“Didn’t you attend a computer school?” I spat out at her out of my present emotional maze.
“Yes sir, I did sir,” she said, snapping out of it.”
“Ehen, for how long?” I asked again.
“For six months, sir,” she again made answer.
JP sighed and adjusted himself in his chair. So when is she to resume work?” JP asked me.
“She should resume on Monday,” I replied. It was Thursday. “I want to tidy up what I have on my hands to do between now and Saturday, son that when she resumes on Monday, we would both begin on a clean slate. Besides, this month will come to an end this weekend, tomorrow to be precise, and Monday will be the third day of the new month.”
JP saw sense in what I said. “Okay, I'll see you on Monday then,” he said to her.
“Yes, sir,” she replied, as we stood up to go. The drink neva clear for your eyes, abi?
We said our goodbyes outside the house where she thanked me again for my help, and I began the twenty five minutes trek home to drink garri before I would be able to see clearly, think clearly to fix myself a decent meal. So much for being a bachelor.
I had closed and gone home on Saturday by 1pm as usual, after clearing my head of every cobweb, and was glad. Father Akiji was off my mind, and so also was Madam Ihienacho, with the rest of them. Usually, Mondays and Tuesdays were free days because I have less work. But by Wednesday, the work will begin to pour in in their torrents.
Suddenly, my phone began to ring. I picked it up and saw that it was JP. I cursed under my breath. I wondered what that old man with his bald head like those of those who roasted kpomo in the market wanted now.
“Good afternoon sir,” I spoke into the phone.
“Kpala, afternoon. Where are you?” came JP.
“I am at home sir.”
“Believe is here. She said she came to negotiate her pay with me,” JP said.
“I would be right over,” I said, hanging up. I was fuming with rage. What on earth is wrong with this girl? After all I have done to help her? I locked up my door and stepped out; stopped a bike and was soon in the house of JP.
JP repeated what he told me over the phone as soon as I came in and greeted him. “So I called you to come over so that we can discuss this. She said she would want fifteen thousand.”
“Good afternoon sir,” she greeted me. I didn't see the need to reply. I had the sledge hammer; so I hit the nail on the head. It was really annoying. I was earning fifteen thousand naira for the five years I have been working with JP, and she has brought herself to believe that she could begin at fifteen thousand naira? She must be joking. I decided there and then to peel the icing off her cake to deface it.
“Well, the girl whose job you are taking over used to earn five thousand naira, and the company has decided to start you up with that. We ought to start you up with even three thousand naira, but I discussed with Oga JP, and we came up with this. So this your talk about fifteen thousand naira is just a moan for the moon. Are you going to take it or leave it?”
As I spoke, JP’s mouth hung open in absolute amazement at my words; then he shut his mouth and quietly stood up and made his way inside. He figured I could handle this perfectly well.
Believe was quiet for a while, probably unable to believe what she was hearing. The punch was obvious, a real smack, below the belt.
“Did you hear what I said?” I asked. Gone were those stupid smiles.
“Yes sir, I heard,” she replied. “Nothing can be done even for a little raise?” she asked feebly.
“Nothing,” I hissed flatly.
After a while, she said, “Okay, I'll take it,” and even smiled, as though she wished to fall back again into my good books. Then she stood up and took her leave.
I told Dave who was there all the while I would love to see JP before I take my leave. Smiling, he went in to call his father. Dave. He hardly talked, and I wondered whatever went on in his head. This smile of his, where did it come from?
“Has she gone?” asked JP as soon as he came back into the living-room.
“Yes sir,” I replied; “and she took the job for five thousand naira.”
“Hmm! This is interesting, Kpala; a good job there!” cried the delighted JP. He was smiling from molars to molars. His bald head was a little damp with sweat, and glistened under the fluorescent bulb hanging from the ceiling just above him. His dilating eyes ravished me. “Do you know I almost negotiated for ten thousand naira with her? Then something told me to call you instead so you'd know what was happening.”
Well, Shylock, I just saved you five thousand naira for I don't know how many months to come, so what would you do for me? You are still owing me, you know, you bald head! This crazy thought ran through my mind as I eyed JP.
But he was still talking. “Thank you so much, Kpala. Here, take this, and go and enjoy your weekend.” And he took out four five hundred naira notes, really crispy mints, having that peculiar smell of new notes, and placed them in my ready palms. I smiled. JP! Good man! “I will pay you and the others on Monday morning, okay?”
“Okay sir! Thank you very much sir,” I said happily as I left his house. I was glad. Really glad. My weekend was made. But come Monday, my life with Believe would begin at the Press. Maybe I have bought the agony of the coming days with her with the two thousand naira notes lining my jeans pocket, I don't know. Only God knows how it would be like, if it would last...

The End.