Taxify’s marriage certificate…

Early one morning, a long time ago in my former office, two senior female colleagues stood by the entrance of the main building. They were huddled together, and they spoke in hushed tones. I saw them but I thought nothing of it because experience had taught me that they could either be deciding the future of someone’s entire career, or they could be expressing grave concerns over what Antonio did to Miguel in last night’s Telemundo episode.

The MD arrived while they were still outside. He was such a hard ass. He didn’t like to see people breathe because breathing wasted time and time is money. Every time I remember this episode, I imagine that in his mind’s eye, he saw two wasted salaries just standing around, talking and breathing. He yelled roared at them, something about being productive with their time instead of gossiping.

When they told me about it, I wasn’t surprised because he was my MD too. He was known far and wide in the industry for his shouting. Still, being the stand-up gal that I am, I tried to mirror their outrage. They ranted and I listened, the whole time shaking my head… How dare he?

Then one of them said, “If it was another person, I would understand, but he was talking to someone’s wife!”

The other lady agreed, “Exactly! That’s what is paining me.”

___________________________________________________________

Yesterday, I had a terrible experience with a Taxify driver. I booked a trip for a sick friend from Lekki to Surulere. He took a roundabout journey in the guise of avoiding traffic and at some point even stopped to buy fuel during the trip. In the end, the trip totaled almost double the cash my friend had with her. She called me and I spoke with him, “Take what she has, and let her go to the hospital. I’ll transfer your balance.”

He refused. “She cannot go anywhere o, till I see alat.”

I transferred the money.

In the evening, I came back from church full of the Holy Spirit, and saw a message from my friend telling me not to bother with a transfer because she had paid him. So I called the driver and asked him, “Chukwuemeka, why didn’t you call me to tell me about the double payment?” He muttered something about trying to reach me to get my account number so he could pay back.

At that point, I was still somehow filled with the Spirit. It was when he started to mansplain that something sparked inna me head and I completely lost it. I warned him about speaking to me like I was suffering from dementia.

He said, “Listen o… I am a family man o. I have a wife and –“

The Holy Spirit left and I told him, “Emeka, I don’t give a flying fuck how many families you have. You will speak to me respectfully.”

Then he hung up. I still haven’t gotten my money back, and the Holy Spirit hasn’t come back either.

____________________________________________________________

This morning, my former caretaker called. She wanted to gist me about her sister who was kidnapped yesterday. The poor girl was taken to a bank and made to withdraw money, then she was taken to some rural area outside Lagos and locked up in a tiny room. Luckily, she somehow managed to escape, even with her money.

We were talking about how good God is when she said, “Thank God they didn’t rape her o.”

I responded, “That would’ve just been the absolute worst! She’s really lucky.”

She said, “They almost did o, but thank God na… as per, she’s a married woman. How can they rape someone’s wife?”