COMPLEMENTARY CARD SAGA

Complimentary Card

Definition

Also known as Business card

(Plural busi-ness cards)

Noun

Card with person’s name on it: a small card printed with somebody’s name, job title, business address, and contact numbers.

When someone hands you his complimentary card, what does it mean? In the corporate world, it’s a contact medium to pursue a potential business opportunity or connection. To naive folks like me, it means nothing, and we just toss it in our bags without giving it a second thought.

On this day, I was given an assignment to collect a brand certificate from the APCON (Advertising Practitioners Council of Nigeria) house at Surulere, so I hopped into the pool car and we headed to the Advertising council. The trip to APCON was long and exhausting and by the time we got to our destination, I was in need of a cold drink to quench my thirst. However, there was no place to make a purchase and I completing my assignment was the more pressing issue. 

I was introduced to this fellow whose name became known to me as Martins, now Martins had features of someone who narrowly escaped albinism with tiny eyes over a large amorphous head, and a pallid fair skin. Long story short, he looked like a Chinese-miss-road. Apart from his very peculiar physical features, he seemed like a really nice person an he was willing to help in the procedure of obtaining the certificate which I was sent to collect.

I did what I had to do and left, but not before he offered to buy me a Pepsi. I didn’t understand but I was thirsty (as stated earlier) so I said thank you and gulped the shit out of it. 

Then he did the weirdest thing. He gave me his complimentary card. I didn’t even think much of it. I just shoved it in my pocket and kept it moving.

Fast forward to the next time I visited APCON. Man saw me and was like “I was expecting your call”. You needed to see how confused I was. I was like “huh? What in the world gave you that impression? Even if I wanted to call, I don’t have your number.” And he chuckled and said “you have my card right?”

Getting back to the office I relayed the story to my office besties and they had a good laugh at me not understanding that when a guy hands you his complimentary card, it’s expected that you give him a call. 

Looking back, I’m honestly still confused. Thankfully, I now fully know the unofficial use of a complementary card. (It’s been a while since I saw one of those though).

CHRONICLES OF BUS TRIPS

 

We never really get to talk about the ridiculousness and utter insanity that occurs on a Lagos Danfo bus ride.

Well I am here to address it today after reminiscing on my first experience.

Where do I even start? Imagine my shock when after I flagged down a bus, the driver refused to accord me the courtesy of planting my butt on a seat before he sped off. I almost hit my head on the glass windows, plus I am sure my cheeks flushed in humiliation at the awkward swaying movement my body made as a reaction to the sudden speeding.

Let’s talk about the odor. Oh lord. I remember this not at all fondly because just yesterday, even after putting on a covid19 inspired face mask, a dirty stench still found its way to my nostrils. During my bus rides, I have realized there are levels to this body odor sh*t. There is the one made up of stale sweat and there’s the one that smells like deathly decay. I can’t make this up guys. Here’s a friendly advice, brace up your nasal glands before hopping into a bus. I can’t say more than that.

Let’s get into the money demands. I chuckled to the annoyance of a bus conductor when he demanded money from me by stretching his hands towards my direction and saying “Öwo my sista” with the agbero gruff in his voice. My laughter was short lived when I realized I had alighted from the bus before remembering I had about 800 naira change to collect. The conductor had tactfully stalled me until I got carried away and forgot my change.

Let’s talk about the peddlers and preachers. These are a special segment because my feelings towards one is very different from the other. The preachers for one, I grew up in a strict Christian home so every now and then I reply “Amen and Hallelujah”… well except that day I had a throbbing headache and the preacher with his loud speaker sounding voice happened to be seated next to me. Wanted to press his lips shut so badly.

Then drug peddlers that claim a tablet is the effective cure for fibroids and diarrhea. How??? My biggest fear with them is that those meds are probably regular chalks, or worst still, adulterated drugs, and people are out there purchasing them with gusto. The sheer ignorance of it all!

Let’s talk about my fellow passengers, we have highlighted body odors, I want to address their obnoxious behaviors. As a young pliable girl, I was once shouted at to shift further towards the window seat. I ended up having one side of my butt suspended in the air for the entire trip. I dared not protest for fear that someone will slap my face for my mummy. Once I was listening to Marvin Gaye’s Sexual healing with earphones. Unfortunately, the sound could be heard by my seat partner- an elderly man who I caught looking at me reproachfully. (Oga it is just a song. A beautiful one as a matter of fact).

Let’s talk about the popular phrase that must be shouted on arrival at your destination. "Ö wa oh!” you can’t afford to mouth it with the average voice volume. No one will hear you. I am still not used to shouting that phrase. Sometimes it comes out with a shrill voice smeared by plenty embarrassment. Sometimes I wait to see if someone else is alighting at that same destination, some days I’m lucky, other days I am forced to say it, and my terrible Yoruba accent makes it 100 times worse. Once, I alighted at the bus stop before my actual destination, and trekked the rest of the journey to avoid mouthing out that phrase.

Guys! Has a bus conductor attempted to collect change from a passenger beside or behind you? Please comment your experiences. These people have decided to be intentionally wicked and not take their baths for like a week so that you almost see the stench wafting through when they raise their armpits. On some occasions I have almost gagged from the nausea.

Can we also address the grit and resilience of a bus conductor? How they can hop on and off the bus in motion without staggering, or the way they can catch up with a bus that was way in front of them? I’m always so scared for them that they might get hit, or they might fall and break some bones, or they might one day fall so bad and roll to the road where they could be crushed by a coming vehicle.

I almost forgot, the scariest part of it all. The recklessness of bus drivers should be studied in road construction courses. I have sudden bouts of palpitations these days and I am pretty sure this factor contributed to my situation. A bus driver would suddenly decide that he is too good to queue along with other vehicles, speed forward and swerve violently to cut into queues in front and start to beg, now if these cars refused to give in, they go ahead to force their way in, with the knowledge that the owner of the car might want to avoid scratches or dents and therefore has no choice but to give in.

A bus driver’s impatience should be studied in psychology. I did not understand this until recently when my father said they speed so much because they want to return early to their park to reload. (Wait. What? At the expense of my beautiful and young life?)

A bus trip is not for the fainthearted I tell you guys. Or maybe Peace is not for the bus trips. This could be it.

DUDE IN THE CAR (Pt. 2)

Just remembered I never finished this story guys, so here you go.

I eventually told the bike man to slow down so I could catch a glimpse of who the mystery person was. The Car pulled up beside us and I sighted what was an impressive  Honda Accord model Car. A dark complexioned guy who I had never seen before smiled at me from inside the car and was like "Hi, mind if I complete your ride with you?"  I wasn't sure I understood what he meant by "completing my ride with me" (who says that? did he want to drive beside with my bike?) so I replied "But i'm already on a Bike". The guy insisted saying that there were no strings attached. He proceeded to ask me my name but I was obstinate, . I realized this fellow was going to keep following us and probing until I acquiesed. I however thought for a split second about giving him a fake name but then, would't that have been cheesy? So I told him my name.

He motioned for me to get in so I paid the bike man, got in his Car and sat down cautiously, legs clamped shut and both hands held closely together. Being the queen of awkward as always, I smiled tightly at his jokes (although funny and I love a witty sense of humor), and mumbled answers to his questions. When we got to my bustop, he asked for my phone number and the mischevious twinkle in his eyes told me he'd dial my number right there and there was no need to conjure up a fake one. I was right.

Now guys, you know what irks me about men? they are very confident in their abilities to be "sleek". This guy called me about two hours later, asked if I had gotten home safe, I expected that we'd have a proper conversation (just because I am a complete extrovert on the phone) He hung up and I didn't hear from him till after about three days. Probably observing the mandatory three days wait to "arouse a yearning or intrigue"(which by the way doesn't work) . Anyway, he then invited me for drinks at a lounge. I had a Coke and a few good laughs, he was amused at my refusal of alchohol and my taste in music.

We talked a while after that and although I enjoyed his wit, I was no match for his worldliness and level of exposure, and I was always clueless. So I eventually just stopped responding to his phone calls and abruptly cut off communication with him. 

DAY 1 in India (The “Motel” Guesthouse)

5th March 2020

It’s been one hell of a flight. Most of it spent watching the lion king movie and listening to Stevie Wonder’s Past time Paradise on repeat. Super exhausting, and I am in desperate need for some  ZZzzzzz. Mother appears to be okay and not as shaken as I thought by her first flight experience. Strong woman! 

Anees and Ibrahim seem nice. Ibrahim is quite loquacious. I’m too tired and shy to engage in a conversation but my dad is being the chatterbox as usual. 

India is like I thought it would be. A mix between rural and urban. I think I’ll like it here. 

The hotel we’ve been taken to looks like a motel from the outside. A worn out building with Neon lights that no longer illuminate and a dangerous looking gutter that could break your bones if your leg grazed its edges. However it looks really great and uncomfortable inside. 

Finally I’m able to catch the much needed sleep after informing my friends of my safe arrival. 

As I step out of the motel looking hotel , the cold air hits me and for a second I regret not wearing a sweater. I’m greeted by the sights of different street food joints, one that particularly grabs my attention has a man devouring hungrily something that looks like tomato sauce with freshly sliced onions with much gusto. (Eww these people no get suya or asun??)

I also notice a group of Indian touts ogling me in a not at all subtle way and smiling creepily. I become super apprehensive. If I was in Columbia i hear we’d be sizing each other up and gearing for a fight. Here however, I’m told the people are locals who haven’t left the countryside hence, the sight of a foreigner fascinates them.

DUDE IN THE CAR (Pt. 1)

I am socially awkward, I have not have mentioned this "little" detail in my previous posts but the truth is, I am extremely shy, the kind of "serious stage fright, get me out of here I don't want to be around people" kind of shyness which I have to no avail tried to shield through forced conversations and silly giggles. I have a few friends, not even amounting to the number of fingers in one hand, it gets so bad that I abhor meeting new people. In fact for me every new meeting is like "hate at first sight"  and this trait is no doubt related to us being overly shielded when we were young which brings me to my story!

At 21, I have never had a relationship as in dated anyone before (man or woman lol!) and there was a time my mom would be really proud of that "achievement" telling me how I and my sister were such decent kids but lately she feels the need to remind me about how I am not getting younger, I should get a dude (she legit says "dude", no jokes!) and how she has to be a Grandma before she turns 50 much to my exasperation.

To make matters worse I seemed to be attracting no "potential suitors" and although I try to shrug it off, convincing myself that I'm still well in my prime, it gets worrying that I don't exactly exude attractiveness, or I don't ooze the right amount of sexuality that girls my age have that apparently call out to good looking "Daddy Fresh" and moneyed men in Lagos.

However on the seemingly uneventful evening of a Friday, I was atop a Bike, while anticipating a weekend of bliss which would be mostly spent on my bed watching cheesy soaps on my Laptop, when I heard the persistent horn of a Car. Initially I thought the honking was for someone else, but that was not the case as I noticed the Car following us closely while flashing lights at us. at that point, I concluded that this was someone I knew.

(Continued in next post)

AVOID THE 'D' ON A SUNDAY MORNING

This is a story of how I learnt to avoid the 'D' on a Sunday Morning.

So I attended Covenant University (I don't know if I had stated this little detail prior to now) Good school, serene environment, pretty decent (unlike what some bad belle people think). In each halls of residence, the blocks of rooms are known as "wings". There are about 7 wings in each hostels, A-G. Now unfortunately for me, my room happened to be in D wing which brings me to my story.

On this fateful Sunday, I was ready to leave for the 7am first service at the university chapel. The hall was bustling with the kind of rush associated with Sunday mornings, ladies were struggling to leave the hall for fear of being locked in thereby marked absent from service which entailed serious consequences. We had to sign out of the Hostel before leaving for the church service (attendance to all events especially religious ones are really strict in Covenant University). 

After searching fruitlessly for the D wing attendance sheet for about 15 minutes, I figured I should ask around in case someone I didn't know was in possession of  it, so I proceeded to shout at the top of my voice "Please oo where is the 'D'!!!????". (Readers, I swear to you, I said that with no suggestive intentions in mind) but the hall became as silent as a graveyard and all the bustle and rush seemed to come to a stand still.

After an awkward moment of people staring at me with puzzled expressions, someone a coursemate of mine, I'm guessing in an attempt to kill the awkwardness said "ahan Oshokoooooo!!!! You can't be looking for the 'Dee' on a Sunday Morning, One simply doesn't look for the 'D' on a day like this."

Looking back, that was one very funny incident that I can't help but blush at. It happened, and I can tell you that I have learnt not to look for  the 'D' on Sundays-Or any other days at all.

Your Naive Friend,
Peace Oshoko.

This is to all willing viewers, those who I have to force to view and potential viewers of my blog. So based on logistics, (Okay I really have to stop saying that) Based on the fact that I am very open to constructive criticism, I have received from feed-backs from you guys stating that my articles or pieces so to write, are a bit too long for your perusal. Taking this into consideration, I have decided to cut-down on writing long stories to encourage easier reading.
I also want to use this opportunity to thank you guys for sharing in my various stories, thank you for reading and thank you for laughing at me. Cheers!

Your Naive friend,
Peace Oshoko.