To all my Ass’nal Peeps

On my way to work this morning a BMW 5 series was driving a bit erratically ahead of me. The dude was moving slowly when he should have moved fast and moving side to side so I couldn't pass him. I dragged on behind fuming – I was late enough already.

BMW was moving with all the characteristics of a guy with a lot on his mind and believe me, you don't want your wheels anywhere near such a fellow's car.

I remember when my brother faced off with one such chap last year. My bro was stuck in traffic heading down constitution road when all the cars in front of him slowed rather suddenly and he had to stand on his brakes to avoid a crash. But the guy behind just ran into him like the line was still moving. Lil bro came down, looked over the car, and waited for the guy to say something. You know how we do it in Naija - no "oyibo repete", just fix am.

Anyway, the dude who hit him steps out of the car looking quite dazed. My bro tried to engage the guy in meaningful discussion but it was hopeless – the man was only physically present. It took the other two passengers in the car to explain to my bro that the guy's wife had jus miscarried their twins. In fact, the little corpses were in the boot of the car (I've wondered about that ever since I heard this tale), neither of them with him could drive so he had to drive himself in this traumatic time etc, etc.

Well, my brother is human and was extremely sympathetic but still, the car was not his and he didn't have the cheese to fix it before the owner saw it. Anyway to summarize this digression the guy paid and my car has had a strange gait ever since.

I know it's a strange tale but that's what my brother said happened. Although to be frank, lil bro could have backed the car into a fence cause he was eyeballing some chick. I guess I'll never know.

So anyway, not wanting a similar scenario, I gave BMW a wide berth – who knew whether the guy had lost twins too. That's when I noticed the Arsenal FC sticker on the back of his car.

HAAAAHAHAHAHAHA!

I couldn't help it, I burst into laughter. An ass'nal fan! After the Gunners loss yesterday to Liverpool, no wonder he was miserable. I eventually got past him and reached the office. Now I was looking for the ass'nal fans among my colleagues. There they were, somewhat muted, but there nonetheless. One fellow had his head in his hands as though he had a headache.

Sorry o! I said to him and he immediately launched into an angry tirade about the referee, Senderos, the foolishness of leaving Cesc Fabregas alone to mark the sturdier Ryan Babel and the need to overhaul the defenses of the team.

I ached to tease and taunt him but I couldn't bear to do so lest ManYoo be jinxed.

As I went upstairs to my own office, I realized BMW had really lost twins – first the Premiers League and the Champions League. Sorry O eyin ara Ass'nal.

Trade Fair Gofer

"Do you have an office t-shirt for the trade fair?" my boss asked.

Somewhere in my subconscious my spider sense went off. I thought of my faded office polo top that I got exactly a year ago for the last trade fair. I last saw it adorning the luscious sleeping form of my wife.

Then I thought of my friend Yinka and her spiffy looking Diamond Bank t-shirt. Oh no!

"It's quite faded sir."

"Really?" he mumbled, and he pulled out a slightly less faded version from a drawer. "Wash that and use it tomorrow." Great!

Not that the t-shirt is the problem. It's this whole trade fair thing.

Attending the Kaduna Trade Fair is usually not a bad experience. You get free tickets, refreshments and the chance to rub minds with visitors and fellow participatants. But I know that there's really one overriding reason my middle-aged senior colleagues want me there. I'm young, strong and junior in rank. Yep, I'm the gofer.

Every office has a gofer. Gofers are a trade fair necessity. They're the ones who're there to fetch this and carry that all over the place. And they come in all shapes, sizes and sexes.

Some companies hire temps or part-time staff. Others, like mine, just hand you a used t-shirt. And nothing is off limits.

Official display items need setting up? They call you. Someone forgot a big box of$ fliers? They send you. Oga bought a new refrigerator for his wife? Guess who's back breaks carrying it through the doors of his house? that's right... you! And that's just for the male gofers.

Anyway, if I gotta go then at least I'll be looking pretty spiffy too; I've a got new office t-shirt that no one knows about.

A Typical Day. (Bit dull but otherwise…) Pt 1.

No water running out the taps in the morning. Forgot to fill up the water-drum. I’m able to fetch two bowls so I make do.
Hit the road and head for work. Thank God I don’t work in Lagos!
Office routine. Office routine. Office routine. Trust me, that’s all you want to know. Except for..
· The low point of my workday? Being asked to dispose of old files dating back a year! Think huge dust cloud plus me in a suit.
· The high point of my workday? Watching my boss manifest GOM (Grumpy-Old-Man) syndrome.
I haven’t had breakfast yet which accounts for the double vision. (Did that document need to go to the D or the DD Admin & Finance? Aw crap!). I haven’t been paid yet either. So serves whoever has to fix my mess right!