A Job Hunt(Part 2)
 The receptionist had waved me off to a chair during a phone call about 10 minutes ago.

She was off the phone now and had signaled to some other people waiting with me to go in. when I was the only one left, the signaling stopped. I walked up to her and explained that I was here for a job interview.

  “My name is Steven Chidioke Johnson. I submitted my credentials last week and was asked to come for an interview today”, I explained.

“I see no record of that. Are you sure you were allowed in last week? ”, she asked, giving me a once over. I would have said that I have never been more humiliated in my life, but then I remembered my scanty belongings sitting inside Mummy Bola’s room waiting for me to claim them and move to God knows where, and changed my mind.

“Please ask my Kolade. He asked me to come”, I gently pleaded.

“Mr Kolade is in a meeting. Wait for him” she said then waved me off yet again.

What choice did I have but to sit down? The interview was meant to take place by 9 o’clock. I had arrived few minutes after 8 and had been waiting ever since. It was 8:45 when a man walked in carrying a leather suitcase and a car key in one hand as well as two smart phones in the other. I couldn’t help thinking that the amount used to purchase one of those phones would pay my room rent for a year and leave me with a lot to spare.

Title: A Job Hunt (part one)
For some reason, the fact that I was a first class university graduate and spoke with an accent out of a Jane Austin movie did nothing to deter the receptionist of K.K and sons Ltd., from treating me like a lowly commoner. Perhaps, the fact that I appeared to be one aided her prognosis. How was i to explain to her that my landlady threw me out of the house and confiscated my second hand iron as well as my other electrical appliances leaving me with nothing but my little transistor radio which I listened to everyday and night till the battery became too weak to even be recharged in the sun? Telling her I spent the night outside what used to be my one room apartment and the chances of taking a bath was next to none, all I could do was brush my teeth and wash my face with water borrowed from mummy Bola who lived in the next room. Of course I got more than water from her. She spent about 30 minutes of my time giving me advice and telling me I wasted my life in school getting to use big words that no one else understood, instead of investing in the sale of second-hand shoes and clothes. She stylishly told me i looked the part and would have made it big in no time. I was saved by one of  her many children who let out a tremendous yell from the dark interior of her room.