"What's your name?" The old man in faded jeans and black tee asked absentmindedly, his head buried in the newspaper he was reading.
"My name is Desmond, sir".
"Mr Desmond, how may I help you?" He asked again as though he couldn't wait to get rid of me and concentrate on the interesting news in the papers.
"Sirrr..., uhmmmm..., Ehmmmmm... I.. I..."
I scratched my head trying to gather the words together to make a proper sentence.
The old man looked at me momentarily, adjusted his glasses and went back to his papers.
"You want some money?"
"Uhmmm.... Ye..ye..s.., yes sir, I mean no sir, I want..."
I didn't even know when I began to stammer.
The truth is, I've heard so much about this man, his wealth and influence. I've also heard about his strictness and how principled he is and I wasn't sure of how exactly to approach him, especially now.
I had planned to go to his office in the course of week to ask if there was any vacant position in his factory. I didn't mind any job at all, I just wanted to be employed. But as I walked through the street and found him under the tree, enjoying the breeze and reading his favorite guardian newspaper, I felt this might be my only chance at having a talk with him and so I went. I didn't know I was so unprepared and here I stood stammering.
Before I could finish my sentence, the old man had put his hand into his pocket, brought out some wards of Naira, shoved it into my hands and went back to his papers without a word.
I felt embarrassed as I thanked him and walked away like a common beggar, but what else does a man who doesn't know what he wants deserve.
It dawned on me that I was the problem, it had nothing to do with the old man. I was treated that way because I presented myself that way.
I summed up courage and walked back to him in haste, afraid that my courage may soon evaporate.
I saw him roll his eyes as I stood in front of him again, he was probably disgusted and this was my only chance at redeeming myself.
"Sir, my name is Desmond Ojiaku.
I am a graduate of Electronics engineering, and as a matter of fact, the best graduating student in my set.
I have been looking for a job for the past 3 years and I know you own a factory, so this is my oral application. Can you do me the honour of working with you and in your factory?"
The old man closed his papers for the first time in about 30 minutes and looked up.
There was a little smile at the corner of his lips and that for me was enough.
He reached his hand into his back pocket, pulled out a complimentary card and stretched it out to me.
" See me by 8 a.m. in the office tomorrow. Prepare to resume as well".
He opened his papers again and went back to it.
I screamed all the way home.