This past weekend while I was cleaning out my closet literally, not Eminem-style. I found a ward coat I had never used and I remembered the story behind the ward coat.
Just after Youth Service, I got a job at a community pharmacy inside Anthony Village. At the time, a certain company was doing a data collection project with pharmacies in the area. The pharmacist who was collecting this data was warm and friendly lady who took a liking to me. She was always full of questions about my future plans and even though I found her exuberance annoying, I liked her a little. She always came with branded items, one of them was the branded ward coat in medium size.
One day she told me she was leaving for further studies abroad – Canada I think, and some other people from her office were also leaving and there’d be vacancies. She gave me the email address of the Director for Anglophone Africa, a man from a country in East Africa.
I sent an introductory email and hiis response came within an hour. He asked me to send my resume and when I did, he forwarded it to the Country Manager and copied me to the mail. He sent another mail telling me to follow up with her and wished me the best of luck.
Two days later, Madam had not acknowledged my application and I was aware that the interview was in a few days. I sent her an email which she ignored. I sent another one the next day, copying the Director and she replied quickly. She was sorry to inform me they were not employing at the time, the email said.
I pushed it to the back of my mind and faced my work, the director sent me a mail the day before the interview was scheduled. I hope you are prepared for the interview, the mail said. I simply forwarded the mail I had gotten from the Nigerian boss, the one that said there was no vacancy.
In less than an hour, I got a mail from the lady with the time and venue for the interview. I was to bring all my credentials. I sent a mail to the Director telling him I wouldn’t be available the next day as there was a conflict in timing.
Can you give us a date and time that would be convenient for you within a five-day window, he asked in his next mail. I replied telling him I’d get back to him by the close of business, and business still never close for my side nearly four years later.
As I looked at the ward coat with the name of the company embroidered on it, I felt very sad. I remembered the conversations I had with the data collecting pharmacist about leaving Nigeria and how I said I didn’t want to leave because I wasn’t sure I could cope with the cold and culture shock if I had to live in “saner climes” for extended periods. Australia no follow for saner clime, not with those their insane animals.
I wondered if she remembered me, and as I tossed it into the pile of laundry, I really wished I could slap myself.