Expectations… 3

Please, check the previous episode out before continuing…

Working with Zite has thought me a lot of things, one of which is how to let go of pride. You see, Zite is one of the few bossy and opinionated persons I know. Being opinionated in my own accord, you can now imagine how tough it was for us to really get along together. Forget the part that we had dropped our initial grievances as relating-individuals, the most important part was working together for Ptem, and we had to cut down a lot on our egos to let that happen.
My first official shock was when Zite relegated my proposal in front of a client. It took all the self control in me to remain calm.
‘How dare you?!’ I was already shouting as we left the man’s office and without considering that I was boiling, he casually replied that the idea wasn’t strong enough to fly. I was infuriated the more.
‘But I ran this mail by you, why didn’t you despise it then, since you wanted to?’ I half screamed.
‘Despise?’ he winced and I felt the urge to strangle him. Nobody has ever resisted my intelligence, not even in the least.
‘It was not intentional, if that’s what you think… but I’d quickly send him another by mail, before nightfall…’ he began.
As he rattled, I was almost convinced to quit immediately but then, the MD called.
‘Miss Ekwulobia, I just heard you guys asked for an extension with the client… that doesn’t sound like a smart move to me…’
As he spoke, I was tempted to shift all the blame to Zite until he was run down, and was going to start when I faintly heard him apologize.
You see, little things like an apology work magically for me, so, I decided to let this slide, but not without pinching him a little bit.
‘It was the MD, and I was just reminded that closing this deal and all the others is my responsibility’ I grinned as I enjoyed him grimace in pain. I loved that he felt sad to be sidelined, so I decided on rubbing it in the more but paused when I noticed a mischievous expression on his face.
‘Are you supposed to be my boss?’ he asked quietly.
I nodded, partly in glee, then, in suspicion as I wondered what his next steps were.
‘I can’t let that happen, I’m sorry’ he concluded and walked to the car, entered and asked the driver to leave without me.
I froze as the car drove past me.


Expectations… 2

Kindly check out the first part of this story before continuing.

My name is Zara and I like living as simply and as straight forward as possible. I hardly have the time to deal with complicated lifestyles, and I expect everyone to be able to at least, respect themselves and other people’s choices.

In taking up the opportunity of helping Ptem Company build their client base, I was looking forward to linking up with a lot of professionals and to expanding my network of friends in the process.  I however, did not expect that anyone would as much as verbally despise me for my style, especially, not a high ranking professional. You can thus, imagine my shock when Zite gave me such a ‘rude welcome’ to the company. At first I thought it was an expensive joke, and was willing to let it slide, and just casually remind him not to run sarcastic comments on non-friends, but when I learnt he was serious, I decided not to become friends with him. So, I tried avoiding speaking with him on our first business trip together.

But since the client we were to meet with was out of town, Zite and I had an unplanned, interesting full day together.

‘So, you also feel less concerned about your appearance when you meet with your clients?’ Zite started with so much sarcasm, and since having a good morning was important to me, I ignored him and continued checking through stuff on my phone, until the car (that we journeyed in) jerked and my phone slid to the floor, and then, he helped me pick it up.

‘Thank you’ I smiled, and continued with the phone.

‘Won’t you answer my question?’ he continued.

‘I really do not consider that a question, but for serenity, I thought I advised that you come along with pretty girls so that you wouldn’t need to be stuck with my face?’ I responded. I meant to shut him up entirely. I however, realized that Zite had a different kind of interesting to him.  A positive kind.

‘I remember. The flamboyant types that I could lust after… and you called me a pervert.’  He accused.

‘Well… since it was that important to you…’ I shrugged.

‘Yeah, right. Thanks for your kind intervention’ he laughed., and I could only but smile in return.

‘You see, I was also trying to help’ he continued.

‘Yeah, right…’ It was my turn to laugh, and he joined me.

As we laughed, I realized that he wasn’t totally a bad person, but we had just started off on the wrong foot.

‘Well, I take it that we owe each other an apology’ I cajoled.

Taking the lead, he apologized immediately. So, I stretched forth a hand of friendship.

‘I’m Chizaram Ekwulobia’ I offered.

‘Nwanne m nwanyi!’ he grinned.
‘I’m Chiziterem Onuoha’ he added.
‘So, where exactly are you from?’ he continued.

To think that I never imagined that Zite could be Igbo baffled me. Maybe I didn’t even want him to be Igbo. But it’s funny how life insists on poking fun at people, readjusting them to uncomfortable realities.

‘I’m waiting’ he nudged into my thoughts.

‘Well, let’s just say that we are from Ptem.’ I winked.

‘Alright…  we will eventually know’ he smiled. And as we shook hands in friendship, I learnt that first impressions shouldn’t be our only base for judging people.

Nwanne m nwanyi: My sister


My name is Zite, and just so you know, I’m a good catch. I’m as good as they come. I am the complete T.D.H package, and very loaded… you know. I am even the envy of my friends.

That should be a joke, please.

But you see, I’m very grateful for my current state in life. I have a beautiful wife; actually, the wife of my dreams. She’s tall, pretty, beautifully complexioned, adorned with some lovely skin, well curved and oh so physically blessed. She’s homely, kind and has that  ever enviable 10/10 taste in fashion. I love her. We have two lovely kids and I’m grateful. I just wish she’d be a little bit more.

It wasn’t made to come out like that, I’m sorry. I just want some more. That’s what I mean. Don’t get me wrong, my wife is perfect in her own way. At least, from what I’ve told you, you should know. But, I just think something is missing, and that is what I seek.

Anyway, I’m dealing with this as greed, and learning to move over it by moving on with what I have.

By the way, we both have corporate careers. My wife is doing well with the communication company she works with, and I’m not doing badly myself. I was recently promoted to a senior partner in my company, a position not many in my age have attained. Let’s just say that I am yet to be forty.

But, just so you know, I take my work very seriously, so I’m not quite surprised at where I already am. Add to that the Lord’s continuous blessings, then, I’m game.

But this is the story I have for you.

I was at work one day when this particular lady stepped into my office.

‘Hello, I’m Zara, and I was just assigned to work with you as an external management consultant’ she said with so much friendliness.

What a joke, I thought to myself. Such a fine name on a plain face. What is it with these generation of young women that do not take note of the fact that their looks is the first thing a man takes note of?

‘You don’t look Zara’ I heard myself spill underneath my breath as I looked over her unprofessional hair and un-made-up face.

‘Pardon?’ she squinted, staring confusedly back at me. Her smile gone.

‘Well, I’m sorry you heard that. But, you don’t appear like one whom should be taken seriously, especially, looking like that’ I replied with all the fake smile and disgust I could muster.

‘May I sit?’ she replied with a scorn, which forced me to readjust in my sit. I think I had expected her to apologize or something like that.

‘Of course…’ I started to stammer, but she beat me to it, made her self very comfortable and spoke sternly to me.

‘I’m Zara, I work for your organisation and not for you. I am to work with you, if you behave yourself and comply, or I shift you aside for someone more compliant… So, are you game?’

I was shocked. I felt ambushed. Not that a woman has never been forthright with me, but I hadn’t expected such level of boldness from a woman that plain. It was a bit frightening and strange. You see, all my life, I had made sure I flocked with beautiful woman. My selection of a wife can attest to that. If you are not fine, naturally or aesthetically, I had nothing to do with you as a woman. It was that simple, and it helped me build focus. So, I naturally related with plain women from a distance, and hardly knew whatever they were up to with their lives.

‘I’m sorry. Please, who are you?’ I found myself asking with a whole lot of respect. It was my turn to squint and to be confused, and then, I started to take in her total appearance. Well, she was smartly dressed, but without the heels. She had a little bit of the curves, lovely eyes, plain but not as bad as I thought… I was well on my way when I heard her voice inside my head.

‘You know, I could really do without arrogance on this job. So, are you in or out?’ she offered with a bit of impatience.

‘Pardon…?’ I began to panic. The lady had just threatened my position.

‘My job is to work with you on your client base. I research and consult for you while you put the results into practice. So, are you in or out?’ she replied with so much pity for me.

‘Just a moment’ I blurted out and sped of into my director’s office. He had to at least, put me through his reason for such humiliation.

‘Excuse me sir, who’s that girl in my office… erm, Zara?’ I began.

‘The management consultant?’ he asked.

‘I should think so…’ I started to explain, but he cut me short.

‘Oh, take your work seriously with that woman. We hope to bring in more clients through her influence, and hopefully, renew her contract…’ he responded dismissively. And as he spoke, I began to feel so much pity for myself. I imagined being the butt joke of my friends, who would tease me for finally submitting to a plain woman. How did she even manage to attain such level in her career? She looked so young, and nothing particularly attractive.

‘A minute more, and you’d have not seen me here again’  she started as I opened the door to my office.

‘Please, could you at least beef up your appearance for our subsequent meetings?’ I pleaded. At least, my reputation with my friends could be saved, I thought to myself.

‘I’d send you a mail of tomorrow’s details’ she smiled and walked out.

‘And one extra thing…  you could tag along a couple of your “flamboyant” female staff that will feed your lust, so that I can do my job in peace… pervert!’ she laughed at the door as she left.

I couldn’t even take offense at the insult. She rather drew so much admiration and respect from me.

And now that I think of it. I think this is what is missing from all that I have. This is what I wish my wife could have: such a great feminine confidence.