Open Letter To All Employers


From a reader…

Dear Employers,
For those of us born with a wooden spoon, life in Nigeria’s unemployment market is terrible. I thought I came, saw and conquered hardship until I started looking for a job. Hollywood movies taught me its so easy to get a job so long as you are willingly and ready to work.

What can I say about my country??? Different!!! You spend 30 years acquiring different qualifications and at the end of the day you only get a job where your total earnings will be less than the money you spent on your primary education that’s except you have what they call connections.

My parents use to say, just go to school, graduate with honours and everything would be fine. I did just that with a degree from the faculty of business administration. My friends say its because I’m based in the south.
But I know that’s a lie. Whatever happened to cool jobs like selling gala & la casera in airlines or killing mosquitoes in aso rock?

All I needed was a job for a couple of months. But what did a sister get? Terrible offers!

My keypads are soaked with tears. Please continue reading. These are the part time job offers I got:

The first job required me working as one of the room service employees in a two and a half star hotel, alongside  primary school drop outs. You know that sort of job where I’ll wear the hotel’s uniform with one cheap face cap then I’ll get to flush the poo of rich men (lucky me),wash the *** stained bedsheets of aristos, pick used condoms littered over the room, make the bed for runs girls to sleep, run petty errands like buying snuff for the hotel manager and once in a while, I get to sweep the floor.

SO  I  SAID  NO!!!

The second job. I got an offer to work in a poultry farm where I’ll take care of chickens, turkeys, fowls, ducks…you name it. With that sort of job I’ll go home everyday smelling like fowl shit. The chickens will peck my hands and I’ll end up with holes in my palms, when I’m hungry, I get to eat chicken feed(bonus), when there is a bird flu outbreak, yours truly  would become the guinea pig of the poultry farm as I  would walk away in slow motion with an instant price of full blown bird flu.

Also, my constant exposure to birds may cause my genes to mutate and  I may start developing feathers. One day, I’ll wake up  and realise I can crow just like a cock and my new genes may cause me do that occasionally when I’m angry.

Imagine me walking on the road under the rain, a car drives  by in full speed and splashes dirty water on me, I get really infuriated and I’ll be like ”ku ku ru cooo”

SO  I  SAID  NO!!!

The third job. I was offered a job to take an old man’s dog for a thirty minutes walk. (first time I heard about such job even though it came with ground nuts salary), I get to do my job thrice a week. The first two weeks I may end up with injuries from the unfriendly dog. The day I get really hungry, I’ll have to feed on the remains of the dog’s pedigree (at least I  get to eat meat).

One day, the dog gets infected with rabies and I unknowingly  take the dog for a walk. Bingo the dog will be so generous and will spoil me silly with rabies.
The rest is history.

In a month’s time, my pictures are all over everyone’s display pictures with the RIP status.

SO  I  SAID  NO!!!

The  fourth job required me working as a labourer in a building site. I’m gonna have to say goodbye to fashion and wear boxers & singlet while I work. At the end of  six months I’ll end up with so much muscles coupled with the way my tiny frame will lose weight.

My palms will always be sore due to the cement & sand combination. The only ‘gadget’ I’ll know how to operate perfectly will be a shovel. People might think I have leprosy cos the cement will turn my skin into a wanna’be oyinbo.

My male colleagues (the labourers) may introduce me to weed smoking 101 and dry gin 111. I may indulge which might turn me into a first class female agbero. When I’m done  working as a labourer, which man is gonna marry me when I’ll be looking like  a man or should I say almost male?

SO  I  SAID  NO!!!

The fifth job. A married couple wanted a housemaid. I’ll accept the job and move  into their house with my long natural hair. Mrs Madam Wife will get jealous, use her shaving stick to shave my hair, strip me of my flashy clothes and give me those gowns they wear in DLC.

I’ll get breakfast in bed everyday cos the kitchen will be my room.

Musa the gate man might be my new boo since I wont have  time to make friends when all I’ll be doing is washing Mrs wife clothes.  I’ll learn new stunts like how to watch TV from the keyhole of the parlour door and how to open a  hot pot with my bare hands to steal meat without making a sound (additional skills).

And lets not forget Mr Sir Husband, he will say I am too beautiful to be a maid, he’ll say he wish he met me before he got married, that he is lonely in his marriage, his wife is a career woman and whenever he tries to make love to her, she ends up with lame excuses like ”honey, lets suspend this, I’ll cum when I’m less busy”.

He’ll ask me to strip let him confirm if I have pimples or nipples on my chest , he’ll want to see what style I wear my panties,  if I have a birthmark on my thighs and if I have cute scars from mosquitoes bites in my butt.

Eventually, I’ll fall for all his tricks, he’ll come to my ‘bed’ under the kitchen table  and make me thank him for all his compliments……

 all night long….

Four weeks later, I get pregnant. I attempt to confide in Mrs Wife about the thanksgiving ceremony her husband had with me four weeks ago but she calls me a witch.

Mr husband and Mrs wife are gonna kick me and my unborn baby so hard into the streets.

Need I say more??

SO  I  SAID  NO!!!

The sixth job. I saw an application online requiring the services of a female amateur p*rn star to shoot a p*rn movie. Don’t blame me, when your jobless and broke, you get to consider crazy offers. I apply for the job. Arrangements are made for me to travel abroad for the video shoot.

I am given hard drugs, taught  different s*x positions ,taught how to say ”oh yeah” and other silly slangs.

During the video shoot, I’ll be doing very abnormal things with one hefty man in front of the camera. I’ll think of my parents, the disgrace and shame and I’ll start sobbing slowly while Mr hefty is still performing stunts ontop of me.

The video director will scream ”whats wrong with this bitch (I automatically became a bitch the day I submitted their application form)? Would you stop crying and cum fast before you ruin this video” I am gonna reply ”but I don’t know how to cum”. He’s gonna say ”JUST PEE  ON  HIM, THEN SCREAM  LIKE  A  MONKEY AND  LEAVE  HIM  THERE”.

Those who will watch the video will think i really enjoyed it. I’ll do just that and walk away with thousands of dollars.

Three years later, the night before my traditional marriage, my p*rn video unfortunately reaches Nigeria. My groom’s family hands my parents half bottle of La casera and one indomie super pack  as my bride price, shake their heads and  walk out.

My parents disown me…


The seventh job. Finally, a corporate offer. A financial organisation offered me a job as a marketing agent. I’ll get to wear a suit and walk on the road, under the sun that currently fries dodo, looking for customers for them. Everyday will be a carnival for me cos the streets will be my office.

What does that make me? A CORPORATE MADWOMAN!!! The real mad people on the streets will watch me roaming with my corporate attire and think I’m taking this madness business too personal.
There is no salary for the job. They said I’ll earn commissions. So if I’m not able to convince someone, I go home with nothing that’s after the sun eventually fries me to a ghanaian. I’ll be left with no money  to buy bleaching cream to make my skin return back to a ‘Nigerian’.

SO  I  SAID  NO!!!

The eight and final job was my idea. Weeks passed by and I got no more offers. Then I remembered I’ve always wanted to be an entrepreneur. I thought of a business I can start with little or no capital and no real assets since I have none.

The only job that came into my mind was prostitution. My earnings will be unlimited since I am hard working and I wont have to pay tax.

I need no capital and the asset I need is me. My body! God’s temple! I’m gonna have to let dirty men, lepers, cultists, criminals, touts and all manner of men touch me so long as they’ve got money. Money for hand, back for ground shall be my life philosophy.

But will bathing with an iron sponge wash me thoroughly? Would dipping myself into a boiling pot of dettol cleanse me? Would using izal to douche my vagina save me?

How about all the various take away items and souvenirs I’ll get in form of STD’s? the zero self esteem I’ll be left with?  My ‘wife material’ reducing to one thread? Lets not forget the great HIV/AIDS as a bonus.

If I’m unlucky, a very ‘grateful’ customer may decide to drug me and use me for rituals. My stubborn spirit might luckily vomit coins and counterfeits notes in five naira denominations for him. In anger, he may go to my grave, dig up my dead body and KILL  ME AGAIN.

SO  I  SAID  NO!!!

That’s all.

I bet you must be laughing  at me  right now.
But don’t forget the writer is in tears.
This is a genuine cry for help. If you’ve got that offer  that would  make me smile and say YES,
kindly send an email.
Thank you.

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