My name is Polycarp
If you transact with this bureau, you might know me. If you don’t, ask around, finding out will help you make sense of what I am about to tell you.
My name is Polycarp, Banke had mentioned my name in her resignation letter — the one she had dramatically pasted on the notice board for the whole organization to see.
Ever since Banke left, there’s been an apprehensive aura floating over our heads at the bureau. The last time people were this bewildered was when the Association of Bureau de Change Operators of Nigeria (ABCON) refused us membership. No membership meant no license, no license meant the millions of Naira spent in greasing palms had gone down the drain.
Now, that wouldn’t be a problem if we weren’t already operating with what I found out is a counterfeit license. To make matters worse, our married boss (the MD) decided to cheat on his girlfriend with a new girlfriend. The jilted girlfriend happened to be the niece of ICPC chairman and heard of our license fiasco.
You can guess what happened — ICPC officials showed up at the bureau. It took a lot of begging and palm greasing for normalcy to be restored.
The best part of working at the bureau is the people, and by the people I mean my friend — Banke.
I miss Banke.
She was the only interesting thing at this office, now that she’s gone there’s not much to look forward to, everything feels mundane.
Banke and I would start the day eating at a nearby canteen. We stopped going for a while because Banke slapped one of the servers. He called her an ashewo. I’ve told Banke to try and live with peace with all men but that server really crossed the line.
We had gone in to eat that morning. Unbeknownst to the server, Banke had paid for our meal so when she asked for her change (which he hoped we would forget so he could keep), he questioned her.
“Ah, madam na you get the money? No be Oga pay for una?”
“Please give me my change.” Banke replied.
“No dey shout for my head, how much be the money gan sef?”
“Na you sabi, give me my change.”
“Collect, ashewo!.”
That was the last thing he said before she landed him a dirty slap. Her Gidigbo training makes her think she can take on anyone and sometimes I believe so.
Her father had insisted she learnt the skill. His was a family of wrestlers and it did not matter to him what gender his kids were, as long as they were interested, he would keep the tradition going. When he died, her mother had found a teacher for her, she says it helped her deal with her father passing. Gidigbo and grief? Wetin man no go see.
After breakfast, we return to the office to get work done. I am better at churning out quality work because of Banke.
“Poly, I know you’re a brilliant man but if you don’t organize yourself better you’ll die at this job.” she had pulled me to the side to say one day.
I laughed. She was right. I was days behind on our petty cash and statement reconciliation. Work was always happening so fast.
“Have you heard of the Eisenhower and Pomodoro technique?”
“No.”
“Let’s go for lunch, let me tell you, I learnt it during my secretarial studies. These things are game changers if you follow through.”
“You don’t say.”
“I say”. We laughed.
I am glad I did not let shame or ego stop me. Banke showed me a better way to approach my tasks, manage myself and held me accountable. For this — I am a not just a better employee but a better person.
Banke also motivated me to get my finances in order. Yes I am an accountant, yes I earned better than her but my finances were a mess.
It was when Banke showed me her budget and the records of her Ajó for my professional advice that I opened up about my finances.
From then on we spoke about our finances and how we could get better. I joined an Ajó at her advise and after she was scammed, we started saving in the bank.
It was at that bank she had befriended a clerk who informed her of the recruitment process. Banke applied for a clerk role and told me to apply for the junior Auditor role.
I was crazy enough to believe this Banke girl and apply anyway — I didn’t have anything to lose. Well, except my sanity, if I remained in this bureau.
Everybody thought Banke was mad when she upped and left the bureau, especially in the manner that she did.
What you all don’t know is that she got the job as a clerk at the bank and I was offered the junior auditor role, I have decided to take it. So, I am resigning too.
My resignation will not be as dramatic as Banke’s, I can not be as interesting as that woman even if I tried. I have typed my resignation letter and will hand it to the MD at the close of business. I wish him and this joke of a business the best. I am going to work with my friend again — that is what I have to tell you.
Glossary
Palm greasing - bribing
Ashewo- literally means a sex worker. It is however a term populary used to insult women.
Gidigbo- A martial art by the Yorubas.
Change- the extra amount paid for an item that needs to be returned to the buyer.
Wetin man no go see- ‘wonders never cease’ in Pidgin.
Ajó- a Yoruba traditional saving scheme
Author’s note: Hi! Thank you for reading :) As you may have noticed, this story is a second part to ‘Everybody is Mad’. I think reading both stories in sequence will give you a better reading experience. So yes, please catch up on all I’ve written thus far, follow, clap and share, thank you! :)
Happy Holidays, see you in 2022. Make memories & share stories, xo.
