What a bloke wants: Great conversation An appreciation of the arts A balanced Judeo-Christian worldview… The same sense of long term direction.. And not having to travel half way around the world to get them…. Surely, not too much to ask for? Or is it? Sigh…
I turned down another job offer, opting to stay with the safer option (yet again). The first time it was to a competitor in my city, this time it was back to Nigeria, and a return to UX5 where I cut my teeth and learned the bulk of everything I know. There were a number of issues - a few powerful interests stacked up against me courtesy of toes I’d stepped on in the past, and the fact that I’d seen all that and done that before. The key sticking point was that the pay on offer was ridiculous - clearly designed to price me out of accepting (plus rumour has it that on of the lead engineers on the project had a candidate).. ...
I have died- Seven times but one; Crushed beneath the weight- Of pain’s unrelenting Hammer blows. Straight right. Left hook. Right uppercut. Left jab. Right hook. Left uppercut. Cheek bones splintered- Lip leaking blood, Teeth- Bludgeoned until loose. Head spinning. Time, space Distance blending- Into a confused blur. Then over-hand right - And sight mercifully fades- Into blissful blackness. I have died– Seven times but one; But like a rubber ball Squashed flat against a hard place, I rebound seven times, Reborn.
Up until this week, I didn’t know that lumbering along at a fairly respectable 4.5km/hr for 1.3km only burned calories the equivalent of a 34.5g bag of Walkers ready salted potato crisps. I blame my sister for that. She - all sharp mouthed, 5’-4", verbal terrorist Edo woman that she is - decided that last Saturday was the day to put her foot down and insist that something had to be done about my burgeoning waistline. I couldn’t have guessed our little chat would segue into those matters, if I did I would have invented a network failure and hung up. She, the mistress of subterfuge, began by regaling me with our usual fare - stories about the nieces and cousins, about who was seeing whom and all the other mundanities - before mentioning that she had run into an old schoolmate of mine. Said schoolmate was this huge, built-like-a-wardrobe bully who terrorised us all those many years ago in primary school. We had a nickname for him, puff-puff, only used when he was out of earshot; given because he looked like a hurriedly fried, misshapen ball of puff puff. I hadn’t seen him in years, but by my sister’s account he had morphed from puff-puff into a Fally Ipupa clone. ...
My sister, the doctor, says I am morbidly obese. That is as brutal as they come. When I have looked at myself in the mirror, I have rationalised my size by looking at other people, or by blaming the mirror for being too convex. The harsh cold truth though is that I am at my heaviest ever. Whilst I can count to a plethora of reasons why, the fact remains that my current weight is a health risk. ...
An unintended consequence of daily quotidian pursuits is the possibility of being sucked into a rut. Sleep, food, mind numbing work, the occasional tryst, the odd night out with the lads repeated ad nauseum and suddenly it is the middle of the year. In truth it has been a so-so year - the break up with EJ, a job offer that I eventually turned down, issues with my father and all the other niggling issues I am having to contend with. Amidst all this, the anti-immigrant rhetoric in the UK appears to have gone a level higher - everyone from layman to political leader is jumping on the bandwagon to decry the scourge of the immigrant. The latest changes been mooted are to limit migrant visas to a maximum five year term. That has significant implications for my ‘business model’. My decision to leave my Nigerian job and head back to school is increasingly looking daft. A Nigerian equivalent, the Petroleum Industry Bill which is meant to fundamentally reshape the industry and focus Nigerian Content Development has been in the works for a few years now, and is probably no where near being signed into law. ...
Friday night just happened. A flat battery led to two of the guys hitching a ride with a third back to the city centre. The fourth guy happened to be home alone after his wife and kids travelled to Nigeria, and I the perpetually ‘alone’ guy was asked to tag along. All five of us piled into our friend K’s 4-wheeler and we decided to hit the an African spot to unwind. ...
The pointlessness of most work is never more obvious than when it is suddenly cut short. Like an unexpected breath of fresh the relentless flow of work in my direction has suddenly stopped, even if only for a day. In it’s stopping it has become clear that a lot of what I had- as a matter of course- sifted through daily was unnecessary. It is the team day off, and the brilliant sunshine currently bathing the city in its glow makes it seem like a particularly potent rainmaker was contracted to make it a success. Usually by this time, I have been on the phone five or six times to clarify one issue or the other with my offshore counterpart (who I outrank on paper, but earn way much less than), attended a couple of meetings and or have had to respond to a request for information. ...
If only life were like a jammed computer where ctrl+alt+del could restart.. sigh. (Image source GearFuse)
On the surface, I live a life that most people would envy - 5 years working for a Fortune 500 company in Nigeria, followed by a well recognized MSc and then a job working for one of the industry leaders in my sector of the Oil industry. On the family side, it would appear that I have it all sorted - the quintessential good son, with proud, loving and doting parents. The true picture couldn’t be further from the truth. ...