A Week in the Life

In this special edition of the A Week in the Life series, we ask professionals what people don’t understand or appreciate about their job.

We explore the common stereotypes around certain jobs and celebrate the hard work people put in to win their daily bread. These are our favourite replies.

Banker

People think [Nigerian] bankers are broke, but we aren’t. You earn fairly well if you’re not a contract staff. A week in my life involves meetings for our digital products, business and marketing meetings, reviewing designs, sending out briefs and endless marketing strategy documents. The first thing I do during salary week is settle my PiggyVest and splurge on my mum.

Pastor

People expect me to be an assistant God who’s always available and perfect. They can’t deal with the fact that Pastor can’t always come to name their child, visit them at the hospital, pick up their calls at odd times, heal them of sicknesses, meet all the financial needs they discussed with him, etc. They also find it awkward that Pastor can get angry, tempted and broke.

There was a time my wife had a miscarriage and needed to be admitted for days in the hospital. Members still called me for prayers and assistance. All I got was, “Heeya. Sorry, sir. It is well.” Nobody thinks pastors need prayer, encouragement or financial support.

A typical week involves meetings, prayers and services. On Sundays, I fast and host Sunday service in church. I rest on Mondays and enjoy quality family time. For the rest of the week, I visit members and prepare my sermons.

Human resources manager (HR)

People often think HR’s primary job is to hire and fire people, so if you want to get a job in a company, just send them your CV and the job is yours. They also believe HRs are superhuman and emotionless people. But since we’re exposed to many issues that require us to keep secrets, we can break down just like others employees.

Also, we don’t hire and fire. We guide hiring managers through the process of identifying the best candidates and support them along the way. HR has no authority to hire or fire anyone; that’s usually a joint conversation between two or more parties.

Chief Executive Officer (CEO)

People simply don’t understand that we never have time.

Tech Journalist

People always think the media should be a PR extension of the tech ecosystem. But the ecosystem is still nascent and the media is expected to be its cheerleader, so I understand. A typical week in my life involves way too many calls and meetings, chasing deadlines and pursuing people who’d rather not talk to me.

Salesperson

People just think salespeople are naturally extroverted. Outside of work, I’m an introvert. I don’t like being in positions where I need to ask people for things. But because I’m a salesperson, I have to create a separate character while at work, be friendly and light rooms up. All the while, I really just want to make money, go home and take off my mask.

I’m a team leader, so a typical week in my life is defined by planning, management meetings and team check-ins. I also spend a lot of time pitching to clients, chasing after people who’re ignoring me or owing me. I’m usually drained by Wednesday because I’m always working extra hours.

Graphic artist

One thing people don’t understand or appreciate about my job is the extensive research that goes into creating a logo or drawing an illustration. Most people think it’s just to “press computer” or it takes less than a day to complete, but nothing could be further from the truth. To work on a design project, I often have to spend hours researching and gathering source materials. Sometimes, I pay for information if Google or Wikipedia doesn’t have enough. I also travel a lot, especially if I need to experience an environment, culture or architecture. One time, I went to Timbuktu while I was drawing backgrounds for an animated project.

People greatly underrate the amount of work a single design or illustration can take. And a few people believe I need money to start a project just because I’m designing on my laptop. A typical week in my life has me working three days of intense focused work then lazying around playing video games, watching anime and just chilling. This life na one.

Data analyst

You’d think my days involve sitting in front of multiple screens, analysing and visualising large data sets or doing some complicated maths shit. Sike. About 45% of my working hours go to mundane stuff like attending meetings. Some days are exciting; many, not so much.

People also underestimate the amount of time analysts spend doing research, especially in Nigeria because most times, na you go find the data you wan analyse. You’ll also need to know how to write and speak well because we do a lot of communication.

People think I’m a baller, but in my first data analyst role, I was being paid ₦‎60k. This was around 2019. My last salary was around ₦‎750k (I’m in between jobs now). So the idea that we get paid loads of money is not entirely true. You can land a good gig from the first go or you can progress through roles to get to one.

Public health worker

Many people expect because I work in a non-governmental organisation, I touch people’s lives and change the world. The truth is a huge part of community development is drudgery, boring repetitive administrative tasks. People over-glamourise the work. Leading policy formulation and getting the Nigerian government to enact helpful policies reads well on paper. In reality, it just means dealing with politicians and government officials who don’t give a shit.

There’s also the idea that we have plenty money. Na lie. Because it’s an extremely specialised field, you must’ve worked for many years and gotten advanced degrees before you start to touch money. Will I confess this on LinkedIn? No. A typical week in my life involves planning and a shitload of meetings with government officials while keeping my temper in check.

Computer Village vendor

People think we make huge amounts off each gadget sale, so we have a lot of money to throw about. Shey you dey whyne me? I won’t blame them sha. It’s the people who are “carting” I blame. Carting is when Yahoo boys get iPhones through their “clients”, and since they’re only after money, sell them to gadget vendors at a low cost. The vendors then sell to buyers at market rates, so you can imagine the profit.

I heard that a Computer Village vendor was killed at a party early this year [2022] because he was carting. The market is filled with fraudsters. Sellers don plenty pass buyers.

A week in my life involves selling gadgets, tracking orders, surviving the chaos of Computer Village and praying to God to avoid problem customers.

Thrift vendor

People assume thrift clothes are bad quality. But I’ve managed to change my customers’ perceptions. They can be clean and classy, as some of the clothes come with tags while some are in branded packaging.

A typical week in my life goes like this:

Mondays: I travel from Abeokuta to Lagos to stock up on new arrivals. Then, I go to the park to dispatch previous orders nationwide.

Tuesday: I sort the clothes I’ll sell for the week and iron them.

Wednesdays: I take photos of new arrivals, attach their prices and post them on my social media pages. This process takes about six to eight hours.

Thursdays: I send out new orders for deliveries. Later, I iron the clothes I’ll post on Friday.

Friday: I snap the remaining clothes, attach their sizes and post them on my page.

Saturday: I take inventory, balance my books and sort out new orders ahead of Monday.

Sunday: I post more new arrivals. In the evenings, I rest or go out to catch my breath.

Creative strategist

“Ah, so you design and make videos. Like, the ‘creative’ things”. In reality, my role covers everything from market intelligence and research to program design, stakeholder engagement and more. When I try to explain stakeholder engagement, people reduce it to “public relations” or “Na just PR na”. I facepalm every time.

I work from home except on Tuesdays, so a typical week in my life is simple. Monday to Friday: work, work, work. Saturdays: movies, washing, cooking, and sometimes, more work. Sundays: church, cooking and work.About a year ago, weekends were my opportunity to take photos for fun and edit them for fun. But I’ve found going out more tedious than usual. But what I never skip is listening to music at night. I’m an audiophile, so listening to good music on good devices matters.

Check back for new A Week in the Life stories every first Tuesday of the month at 9 a.m. If you’d like to be featured on the series, or you know anyone interesting who fits the profile, fill out this form.

Yes, I want to be featured!

Ama Udofa

December 6, 2022

A Week in the Life, Hustle, Money

A Week in the Life Special
A Week in the Life is a weekly Zikoko series that explores the working-class struggles of Nigerians. It captures the very spirit of what it means to hustle in Nigeria and puts you in the shoes of the subject for a week.

Fine artist Renike Olusanya has always excelled in art, but several years ago, when she got her first commission of ₦25k, she didn’t realise her life was about to change. In 2022, she’s illustrated for international brands and publishing houses and sold a tonne of remarkable art. She tells Zikoko how she navigates work-life balance as a freelance fine artist, her frustrations dealing with clients and how she’s focused on building friendships. This is her life in one week.

MONDAY

I used to sleep around 3 a.m. — which is normal for artists because we’re all messed up — but I don’t want again. These days, I try to sleep between 12 and 1 a.m. I believe in gradual changes as it’s more realistic to go from sleeping by 3 a.m. to 1 a.m. than 10 p.m. I usually wake up around 9 a.m, but today, I woke up at 6:30 for some reason, and it was hell.

I like to respond to my inquiries and emails on Sunday nights so I won’t be under too much pressure on Monday. I also schedule emails for different times of the day depending on the time zone of the recipient. First, I write a to-do list, eat breakfast and get to work. I just started eating breakfast two months ago because I’m trying to build lean muscle and maintain healthy habits.

I like to eat overnight oats, which is funny because I used to hate [cooked] oatmeal until I discovered the beauty of overnight oats. I make it by soaking rolled oats in oat milk with chia seeds, Greek yoghurt, grapes & peanut butter and storing it in the fridge overnight. So in the morning, I just wake up and eat. Sometimes, I eat it with fried eggs.

I work from home as an artist, so it can be difficult to get into work mode. I like to act like I’m going to work. When I’m done with breakfast, I freshen up, dress up formally and head to my home art studio for the rest of the day. By midday, I’m fully in work mode, and I work until 5 p.m., only pausing to stand up every hour when prompted by my Apple Watch. While working, I love listening to podcasts like The Archetypes by Meghan Markle and No Stupid Questions by Stephen Dubner and Angela Duckworth.

By 5 p.m., I get out of my work chair and change into gym clothes. I recently bought a treadmill I put in my studio because I neither have the strength for Lagos gyms nor a car to make daily trips. I also don’t like going out. I used to work morning till night without standing up. But that’s unhealthy, and I recently decided to become more physically active, I bought the treadmill and some dumbbells to work out in the evenings. I also do yoga until 7:45 p.m.

Renike’s home art Studio

Afterwards, my Mondays can go either of two ways. I either eat dinner, read articles or a book, scroll through Twitter and TikTok and watch a movie, or I go to Obi’s House at Hard Rock Cafe — but this is once in a blue moon. Tonight, I’m staying in my house. Before I go to bed, I love those quiet moments when I just apply skincare products to my face.

TUESDAY

It’s funny how people only notice you when you’re out there and seem to be doing well. Sometimes, I get so caught up in trying to move forward I forget how far I’ve moved from the early days of my career. But today, I woke up thankful. And while eating my overnight oats — I can’t get enough of it — I took a few moments to meditate on my journey.

In 2016, when I was in Unilag, someone reached out and asked me to supply prints of my artwork to a guest house. When the money entered my account — ₦500k — I was just looking at the alert like, I’ve used talent to escape the trenches o! Which is funny because my first commission was so random. I had a mentor — a pastor who used to encourage me. He commissioned me to paint his wife and paid me ₦25k.

My first book cover was also a commission from a friend. She paid ₦30k for the illustration, and I was more than happy to work on it because I loved everything about her poetry collection, from vision to execution. I kept creating and putting out my work and not long after, I got a gig that paid £500. Just imagine the gap. And then, the gigs just kept coming….

As I finished my oats and prepared for the day, I knew I was going to absolutely slay it.

WEDNESDAY

As a freelance fine artist, the nature of my job lacks structure, so I have to consciously decide to stick to a routine every day of the week, and a to-do list is my greatest tool. Knowing what to do before I start each day has helped my artistic process a lot because I track my activities and progress on projects for the day.

As a full-time fine artist, I draw what I like and sell them. Sometimes, people want me to draw things for them, and for a fee, I do. I get book cover commissions from either a self-published author or publishing house. When a house reaches out to me to design a book cover, it could be because the author saw my work somewhere and liked it. Like when I designed the cover of Nicola Yoon’s book Instructions for Dancing, one of Penguin’s creative directors reached out to me and said Nicola Yoon saw my work on Instagram — it’s always Instagram — and thought I’d be a great fit. Of course, I was interested. There’s usually a process that makes collaborating easy: a creative director reaches out, I do my work and get paid.

Renike posing with some books she designed covers for

But with independent authors, there’s a lot of back-and-forths because I ask a lot of questions, and sometimes, they don’t really know what they want, so I have to guide them through. I’m the illustrator as well as the consultant. I can ask for a non-disclosure agreement to protect their work if they feel reluctant to tell me certain details of their story.

I used to have a fixed price list, but not anymore, because I often sold myself short, especially when the projects evolved or derailed. Right now, I have a base fee and add extra depending on the complexity of the project. Painting someone’s head will be different from painting someone’s hand, for example; the same goes for half-body vs full-body portraits.

When I do personal art, I start with an idea, roll it around in my head for a while before I start painting. Which reminds me, the last time I did something personal was in July [2022]. I worked really hard between 2020 and 2022, putting out a a lot of work and building my reputation — and that’s why I can afford my lifestyle today. I still have ideas, but it’s been hard to find space to create personal work. Funny, I never struggle with commsioned work.

I’m thinking this as I step out of my studio at 5 p.m. today. I make a note to paint something personal soon.

THURSDAY

Today was just annoying; payment wahala here and there. The biggest headache I have these days is accepting payments. Most of my clients are outside the country so anytime I need to receive a payment, I always have to manoeuvre one issue or the other as a Nigerian living and working in Nigeria.

I’ve put my name out there to the point that people now trust me. All you need to do is Google my name and see I’m legit. But it wasn’t always the case. When I was still coming up around 2019/2020, it used to frustrate me that some international clients would just air me after seeing I’m Nigerian.

There was a time one of these traditional banks that recently went digital kept restricting my account until I threatened to sue. I was getting paid, but I couldn’t get my money. It’s not like the money was plenty o — didn’t even have the money to sue — but I couldn’t take it anymore.

I’m also struggling with inflation, and it’s affected the kind of projects I take on. My foreign clientele typically commissions digital art and book covers while most of my Nigerian clients prefer portraits. But right now, I don’t take as many portrait commissions or get as many requests as I used to because my base price is in dollars. With the way the naira is moving nowadays, I can’t charge Nigerians in Nigeria. It’s ridiculous to convert what was, say, ₦100k at the beginning of 2022 to more than double that.

It’s such a struggle, and I’m tired mehn. When does one get a break?

Renike posing with one of her works

FRIDAY

A younger artist reached out to me today, complaining that they did work for someone, and the client refused to pay. I discussed with the person on how they could prevent it from happening again.

I’ve worked with too many problematic clients than I’d like, but because I’ve had a few years of experience, I can spot them from a mile away and run for my life. They always have a crazy long list of things they want done — things that’ll normally cost an arm and a leg — but never have the budget for it.

No matter how big you are, you can’t escape problematic clients. These days, what I do is if there’s something they want and their budget doesn’t match it, instead of chasing them away, I try to compromise to find middle ground. For example, if you really want a full-body portrait of five people, and you only have enough to cover a full-body portrait of three, I can suggest a half-body portrait of five people instead. But the problematic ones don’t even want to make concessions; all they do is stress me out, so I just run away.

A few years ago, there was this lady who reached out to me for a painting. I was still charging around $500 and above at the time. We moved to the consultation stage, but after hearing all the details she wanted, I was like, ehn? This thing you want — with the whole world including heaven — is how much it would cost. Omo, this woman started ranting. What really annoyed me was when she said I’d wasted her time. I had to clear her — respectfully — on the spot.

Clients are always right o, but they should also respect people who work with or for them. She wasted my time too when she was describing heaven and earth. People need to understand that they’re paying for a service and we’re doing it in return for the payment. Our work as artists is to bring your vision to life, so you can’t disrespect us because you only want to pay a certain amount of money. I won’t accept disrespect just because I’m providing a service.

I’ve had to evolve my process in a way that demands respect, so right from the beginning, you know you’re not dealing with an anyhow person:
1. I ask a lot of questions and sign contracts from the get-go, so nobody will say something, and then later, say that’s not what they said, because I have the receipts.
2. I don’t attend to inquiries over the phone. I prefer emails so there’s a trail of communication.
3. When people divert from the original agreement or add something or the other, I charge extra.
I always set boundaries from the beginning. I don’t work for people who refuse to respect these boundaries because my peace of mind is important to me. Once people realise that after two revisions, they have to pay extra fees, they sit up and tell me exactly what they want.

But you see clients who treat me well? First of all, they offer me good money and are polite. Sometimes, they’re even ashamed to offer the money. To me, it’s big money o; to them, it’s like, “You have all this talent, and I can’t afford you, but please, take this money. And I’m like, “Yes ma’am.”

After I did the book cover for my friend’s poetry collection, I kept posting my work on social media, and the next people who reached out offered me £500 and were telling me they knew it was lower than what I usually charged. The way I screamed. Me that my previous job was ₦30k? Me that used to beg people to pay ₦50k, and they’d refuse? Me that didn’t even think I was good? That was my turning point.

SATURDAY

On weekends, I like to work out in the afternoons rather than in the evening. I also spend time watching and making TikToks of my art — and some fun dance routines too. Weekends are when I let my hair down and dance. But not at parties because, these days, if I do legwork in public, they’ll say Renike is razz. I do my legwork in my house, please. Dancing makes me feel really active and happy.

Weekends are also for hanging out with friends. I didn’t have a lot of friends growing up. I’m only starting to make them — especially female friends — in my adulthood. I love them so much and love hanging out with them. They make life worth living. When I’m sad, I know I have this group of people I can talk to, who won’t judge me. They listen to me, hype me up, dance with me, crack funny and dead jokes with me, etc.

I like to read books too. Today, I finished Colleen Hoover’s Verity, and I’ve still not recovered. Tomorrow is Sunday, and I’ll sleep like my life depends on it. When another Monday comes, I’ll eat overnight oats, dress up and face the week.

Check back for new A Week in the Life stories every first Tuesday of the month at 9 a.m. If you’d like to be featured on the series, or you know anyone interesting who fits the profile, fill out this form.

Yes, I want to be featured!

Subscribe Now!
Ama Udofa

October 18, 2022

A Week in the Life, Hustle, Money

a week in the life, Fine artist, Renike
“A Week in the Life“ is a weekly Zikoko series that explores the working-class struggles of Nigerians. It captures the very spirit of what it means to hustle in Nigeria and puts you in the shoes of the subject for a week.

The subject of this Week in the Life is Joboson Chisa, a brand designer. He designs across a broad spectrum: brand identity, perception, sales, marketing, communications etc. He tells about his design process, how he made his first million as a brand designer, his frustrations negotiating with clients and why he’s no longer choosing “vawulence” on design Twitter.

MONDAY

I always wake up at 6 a.m. thinking we should scrap Mondays. So I don’t get out of bed until 9 a.m. During those three hours, I browse Twitter and think up ideas, to start the week. Sometimes, I tweet motivational stuff, the occasional “we gonna make it #Wagmi” — as if I have energy to start the week — right from my bed. The lies we tell…

Anyway, by nine o’clock, I finally get out of bed and open my laptop. Mondays are for stand-up meetings and admin work — sending and responding to emails, receiving and analysing feedback, etc. I get the most rejection mails from organisations about my pitches on Mondays, and I don’t eat breakfast until 12.

After work, I catch up on all the “vawulence” on Twitter. There’s always someone being ratioed for a bad design opinion at the start of the week. If you’re looking for hot takes on +234 design Twitter, you’ll find them on Monday. It’s like designers had too much time on their hands during the weekend and the gist spilt into the new week.

TUESDAY

I know it’s just Tuesday, but please, the week has been crazy already. As a freelancer working from home, Tuesdays are usually my busiest days, when I actually open my design software and get to work. When I have deadlines, I beg MTN to have mercy on me.

I’m very busy these days, juggling several client projects. And as if that wasn’t enough, I carried myself to take on community work. That’s the curse of being a freelance designer — taking on more projects than you should. But I’m a bad guy, so I’ll just wait until those deadlines are due then the panic monster will pressure me into slaying them.

After seven gruelling hours at my work desk, I have new designs. They’re so beautiful — even though I know I’m going to hate them tomorrow. But it’s been a hard day’s work, and I’m satisfied. Work hasn’t ended though, only client work.

Around 6 p.m., I turn my focus to a personal project. I’m trying to build 234 Brand Street, an online community of designers like myself, and even though I don’t have a clear roadmap, this thing has me doing things out of my comfort zone. I’m editing videos, learning new software, making templates for a live event — mehn, it’s been crazy motivating and crazy stressful. Who send me work?

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WEDNESDAY

Someone reached out to me on LinkedIn, and I was so excited because that would be my first client from the platform — I’m mostly active on Twitter. This person told me they needed a designer and promised so many high sounding jargon — except payment. What would I use a “founding designer” title to do when it’s not coming with money? Is that how they say they’ll pay in “exposure” these days?

Once I told him I wasn’t comfortable with the offer, he stopped responding. I was really disappointed because I felt like LinkedIn had better to offer.

People like this stress me out. But I’ve made my peace that money conversations will often be weird. Just as I was rounding up work for today, someone emailed me from Behance to ask for my rates. When I asked for their budget, he asked what I wanted. He now said it was out of his budget. But didn’t he say he didn’t have a budget?

I finished the first iteration of a brand identity I’d been working on for the past week for a US-based client and sent the files over. I expect to get their feedback by next Monday. So it wasn’t an unproductive day.

After all the stress, I called my boys out to hang in the evening. As a remote freelancer, I try to invest as much time as I can in my social life. I felt like having cocktails, so we went for drinks until 11 p.m.

THURSDAY

The weekend is almost here so bored designers usually start dropping hot takes and fighting on Twitter today. I didn’t have urgent projects immediately pressing my neck, so I decided to indulge a bit by spending a little too much time on the app, calling out designers for their problematic takes. Thursdays are usually my freest days anyway.

The thing is I’m a very outspoken person, and I feel very privileged to be in the design industry. But in +234 design Twitter, some people want to feel more important than they really are. There’s this worrying trend of people trying to position themselves as better than others rather than solving problems for people who can pay for their services.

The design community on Twitter used to be very different from what it is now. It was once a melting point of shared ideas and innovation, but these days, you’ll just see someone who hasn’t done any notable work, but because they got into tech from a random gig and bought fancy gadgets, nobody will hear word again.

One thing about me is I’ll always call out bullshit when I see it. Sometimes, I keep quiet, expecting people to know better — don’t get me wrong, I’m all for the good things design money can get one, but it’s becoming a pattern to detect those who breed on vibes, controversy and empty show off — I’ve saved some of their lit workspace pictures, though.

After today sha, I’ll be keeping quiet. I don’t want to build a brand on “vawulence”. I just hope younger, less experienced designers won’t fall for the empty hype of people who don’t really care about them as much as they see newbies as stepping stones to their own goals.

FRIDAY

I’m always excited about the weekend. It gives me a sense of accomplishment, and I also get to do fun stuff. Earlier today, I completed a major design project, handed it over and got paid. The money was up there with the highest I’ve charged this year, so I’m in high spirits.

I’ve had a weird money journey, especially with charging clients. When I started out, I charged ₦5k for logos — and sometimes, I didn’t even get paid. But I’ve come a long way. In December [2021], a friend asked me how much I charged for designs. At the time, I was charging ₦500k – 700k for a full brand package, which included logos, social media and marketing templates, merch and many more. When they told me I was too good to be charging that amount, I didn’t believe them

But later, I did research and saw designers charging $2k for brand identities I didn’t think were all that, so I decided to raise my rates. When a client reached out to me shortly after, I decided to ask for more money than I normally would. I pitched an idea, held my breath and asked for ₦1.7m. I didn’t know where I got the audacity from. The company accepted, and I wanted to run mad with excitement. That was my first million. Since then, I’ve not looked back.

When I received my credit alert this evening, I knew it was time to have fun. I’m going to hit up my squad so we can decide if we’re going to a concert, bar or any fun event in Lagos. I try to go out every weekend, but this one will be special.

Check back for new A Week in the Life stories every first Tuesday of the month at 9 a.m. If you’d like to be featured on the series, or you know anyone interesting who fits the profile, fill out this form.

Yes, I want to be featured!

Subscribe Now!

Ama Udofa

October 11, 2022

A Week in the Life, Hustle, Money

a week in the life, Brand designer, hustle, Joboson Chisa
“A Week in the Life“ is a weekly Zikoko series that explores the working-class struggles of Nigerians. It captures the very spirit of what it means to hustle in Nigeria and puts you in the shoes of the subject for a week.

18-year-old Susan* is learning to sew to keep herself busy during the ASUU strike. But in Nigeria, apprentices are at the mercy of their bosses. And Susan’s typical week is full of more downs than ups. Find out why tailors lie and how she’s making the best of the ASUU strike in this week in her life.

MONDAY

I like Mondays because they’re the most chilled days of my week. People have collected their dresses during the weekend, and even though sometimes, we receive clothes on Monday, it’s not plenty like that. I was looking forward to a chill day as usual, but my day started badly when I was harassed by street boys.

My dad asked me to help him cash a cheque on my way to work. The bank isn’t far from my house, so I decided to trek. On my way, I saw some men loitering around and thought it was the regular street boys that’ll leave you be as long as you mind your business. But these ones started catcalling me. It wasn’t my first time being catcalled — that one is normal in Lagos — but these guys were very aggressive to the point of touching me. I managed to break away.

I thought I’d be able to shake off the experience, but by the time I got to work, I was still shaken and I felt dirty. I hoped to just get through the day.

Things were going fine until a woman brought in curtains and my madam assigned the work to me. I started on it, but there was a part that was very tricky.

The thing about sewing is that it’s better to leave something alone than to redo it after making a mistake because mistakes only make the material worse. I’m still an apprentice so I decided to show my madam that part, but she was talking with the person that brought the curtain outside and I didn’t want to interrupt them. So I waited for her to be done with their conversation.

But when madam stepped into the shop and saw me idle, she started shouting at me — she didn’t even give me space to explain myself. I was so embarrassed.

My day went from bad to worse. When I got home and showered, I couldn’t sleep. I was thinking about how if there was no strike and I was in school, something like this wouldn’t happen to me. It’s not like school isn’t easy but it’s just easier for me to blame it on ASUU.

TUESDAY

I’ve not recovered from yesterday’s incident and I didn’t even sleep well. But work continues, abi? So I went to work.

Tuesdays are only slightly busier at the shop sha, because that’s the time people come with their materials and take measurements and we start working. So since I didn’t have much to do today, I had a lot of time to think about my life.

Even though I like fashion, I didn’t plan to learn the trade this soon. I’m only doing it because ASUU has been striking for more than six months now, and we don’t even know when it’ll end.

I like fashion, but I wish I didn’t have to learn under these conditions. The former place I used to learn was worse than this. The complete trenches. I went there to learn fashion but would find myself in my madam’s house, washing her clothes, taking her children to school, cooking for her husband, and plenty more things. I stayed there for three months before I complained to my mum,, she pulled me out of there, but she’d already paid the apprenticeship fee.

This place I’m currently doing apprenticeship isn’t perfect, but it’s better. It’s closer to my hous,e and I don’t have to worry about the stress of entering danfo. But I’m tired, to be honest. I can’t wait for ASUU to call off strike.

Everybody is like, don’t waste this time. Learn something new. But learning something new doesn’t change the fact that I’m stagnant. My mates in private universities are already in 400 level and me, I’m still in my second year. If there was no strike and this was just a normal holiday, I’d be more excited about learning a trade, But right now, I’m doing it because I don’t have a choice. I just have to do it, if not, I’d be idle. Maybe that’s what makes it feel less interesting.

WEDNESDAY

Wednesday is when the real work starts. The official closing time is 5 p.m, and on Monday and Tuesday, we close around that time. But from Wednesday onwards, it’s 6:30 we leave because there’s always so much work.

It’s not like I can’t leave at 5 o, I’m just not comfortable leaving unfinished work. But no matter what, I’ll never stay beyond 6:30 because of security issues.

Today, I learnt how to make peplums. My mum has a lot of peplum dresses and I’ve always loved them. used to think they were difficult to make. But today, when madam tailor was showing me how to make it, it didn’t even take her more than two minutes. After cutting the material, you just need to put a stale on the peplum, sew round it, and then iron the cloth.

Image source: Mynativefashion

I made my first peplum, and it came out well. I was so happy because my week started so badly.

Every day I learn something new, and it makes my time here more bearable. By the time I got home, I had so much fun telling my parents and just knew I’d sleep well.

THURSDAY

Thursdays are extra busy because people want to get their dresses on Friday. Customers call non-stop to ask if their clothes are ready. It’s also when we lie the most because even if the clothes are not ready, we’ll tell the customers we’re done. We do this just so they’ll stop calling us every five minutes.

We’re all on edge on Thursdays because of the building tension that a customer can come at any time. It’s the day I make the most mistakes because I’m still learning to manage the pressure.

It’s also on Thursday that madam tailor shouts at her apprentices the most. I understand her concern, but sometimes, I think there are better ways to correct inexperienced apprentices sha. It gets ugly when she starts laying her hands on people.

Like today, I was working on a child’s dress and was almost done — it was just remaining the hand. The problem is, I’ve not really mastered how to cut the hands of dresses yet, so usually, when I get to the hands, I ask a more senior colleague to help me out. I don’t have a personal sewing machine at home, so I fear I’m not learning as fast as I should. The tailor doesn’t allow apprentices to bring their own stuff to sew at the shop. So, other apprentices who have machines usually go home to practice.

But today, everyone else that could help me was neck-deep in work. I could have waited o, but I was trying to be useful. I said to myself that since I’ve seen people cut dress hands before, I could try it. I finished the dress and moved on to other tasks.

Around 6:15 p.m., when I was preparing to go home, I heard “KPAIII” on my back. I was already so stressed from the hectic day, so it took me some moments to gather myself. Then the tailor showed me the dress and started shouting at me. She told me it wasn’t her fault I don’t have a machine at home and called me all sorts of names. She kept beating me with that her hand that’s very painful. Me that they don’t beat at home.

Shey I’d have left the unfinished dress for someone else. Me that was trying to be useful. Ah, ASUU, see what you people have caused. Please free me, let me go back to school.

FRIDAY

When I woke up this morning, my ears were ringing. Then I realised I still have to go to work today after the nonsense that happened yesterday.

I wanted to tell my parents, but no. It’s not the first time and my parents are very vocal people. What usually happens is, after my parents call the woman to complain, she’ll apologise to them, promise to do better, and then turn around to badmouth me to other staff and apprentices in the shop. It’s funny because you’d expect them to empathise with me. Shey all of us are suffering the same thing? But no, they’ll join to badmouth me.

There’s a kind of stigma that comes with being the one who snitches to their parents — they stop assisting me or sharing knowledge. And me, I’m at a disadvantage because I don’t have a sewing machine. When I look at all the problems that come with reporting, I wonder: at what cost? I’ll just bear it, learn my thing and go.

The previous place I paid ₦70k for, the money entered bush. I don’t know how much my parents paid for this one I’m currently doing, but it’s probably even more expensive. And it’s not like my parents can terminate the contract and collect a refund. That’s why I endure.

Fridays are chaotic as hell. By the time we closed today, I’d put all the events of the week behind me but was too tired to trek home. So I took a danfo. I can’t wait for the weekend abeg. My family will be at home and now that the season has ended, we’ll watch BBN recaps and highlights.

Check back for new A Week in the Life stories every first Tuesday of the month at 9 a.m. If you’d like to be featured on the series, or you know anyone interesting who fits the profile, fill out this form.

Yes, I want to be featured!

Ama Udofa

October 4, 2022

A Week in the Life, Hustle, Money

a week in the life, Apprentice tailor, tailor, Why tailors lie
“A Week in the Life“ is a weekly Zikoko series that explores the working-class struggles of Nigerians. It captures the very spirit of what it means to hustle in Nigeria and puts you in the shoes of the subject for a week.

Nine hours every day, Uche Uka* sells food from behind a counter at a prominent fast food restaurant, while evading stern managers. While on duty, resting is against the restaurant’s rules. But after two years of thankless service for ₦40k a month, she wants better from life

MONDAY

Mondays are the slowest days at the fast food restaurant, maybe because many people cook during the weekend and still have food in their fridges. But I still end up tired.

The eatery I work at opens at 7 a.m. We don’t have cleaners and support staff, I have to arrive early to clean up the store, machines, utensils and surfaces, bring the food from the kitchen to the counter and prepare for when the store opens. It’s a cashier’s duty to make sure all the food and drinks are recorded and cross-checked with the cooks. So I resume at 6 a.m.

There are two other cashiers on my shift, and we do several jobs while the company only pays us for one. When we pleaded with management to hire cleaners, they asked us, “So, who’ll pay them?”

We used to open at 8 a.m., but the company decided to push it forward to cater to students and workers who stop by to pick up food on their way to school and work.

Morning shift is supposed to last from 6 a.m. to 2:30 p.m. — eight-and-a-half hours — but that rarely happens. I often leave at around 4:30 because I’m required to settle records after my shift. Depending on the manager, they can make me stay until six. I don’t have a choice. Every single tray of food I served has to be accounted for, along with every naira. If there’s any shortage, they’ll deduct it from my ₦40k salary.

Every day comes with its own wahala. Sometimes, a manager can wake up on the wrong side of their bed, come to work and transfer their frustration on us. Even more often, customers bring their own problems and cause a scene.

Today, I left the restaurant at 4 p.m. and headed home. Even though Mondays are always slow, I’d been standing for over ten hours, so I’m tired. I’m always tired.

TUESDAY

Today didn’t go well at all. A pregnant woman came in and ordered takeaway basmati fried rice. A portion of the rice is two-and-half spoons and costs ₦700. I asked if she wanted a big-sized takeaway pack or a small one. She said, “Big.” When I handed her the food, she started complaining it was too small.

She accused me of not putting enough rice, even though a portion would look smaller in the larger pack. When she accused me of trying to steal her food and pocket the money, I explained to her that it’s not cashiers who set the pricing or quantities. I asked if she wanted an extra portion and she insulted my father.

When she came in, I told her not to look at the board. She could tell me what she wanted, and I’d tell her the price. The restaurant usually updates the prices on the system, while the old price remains on the board. Maybe that’s why she called me a fraud.

This woman brought out a calculator and refused to pay for the pack she asked for, which costs an extra ₦150. She kept yelling and threatened to complain about me to the branch manager. Then she called the head office to complain that I’d hacked the system to cheat her and pocket her money. Me, a cashier, hacking? See me see wahala.

I don’t understand it when people dump their frustrations on cashiers. I’m not happy at this job, but you don’t see me shouting at people.

The manager came in and dashed her a free meal just so she could leave. Then, he turned to me and started shouting that it was my fault. Thank God I had witnesses who called him out sha. A man even told him to update the board and stop letting problematic customers harass cashiers. But even though I didn’t do anything, I still had to apologise. Because when everybody leaves, it’s me the manager will deal with.

The man who stood up for me tried to give me a tip for my troubles, but the manager intercepted it. Company policy is that no staff should handle cash or personal property during work hours. Usually, I have to hand over my personal belongings at the security desk and sign them in. When managers intercept tips like this, they promise to add it to our salary at the end of the month. But, for where? I know I’m never seeing that money.

I finally got home, called my brother and told him about my day. He told me it is well and cracked jokes that made me laugh. By the time I hung up and prepared for bed, I realised I wasn’t so angry anymore.

WEDNESDAY

I woke up to a call that I should come in for the evening shift. These duty managers keep changing things, and I never know until the last minute. I wish they would rotate it weekly so I’ll know okay o, this week, I’m on morning shift, next week, I’m on evening shift. I’ve begged them several times to tell me my shift ahead of time, but they just do anyhow they want. We, the junior staff, don’t have a choice. If you enter any manager’s wrong side, you’ll see shege.

I don’t like evening shift because we have to stay back to do records even though the store closes by 10 p.m, Sometimes, I get home as late as midnight. I’ve been robbed before, and with the news of kidnapping these days, it’s very unsafe. One of my colleagues was stabbed recently. But who cares? They’ll say the insecurity also affects managers.

The company now has a policy that workers must live a maximum of 15 minutes from the store. I wonder if they’re just mocking us because none of us can afford to live anywhere around the area. Even my six months’ salary can’t rent a place there. When I moved to this city in 2020, I had to save for six months to get my current apartment in a villagey area about 30 minutes away.

But can I complain?

My ₦40k salary can only take me so far, but I try my best to be disciplined. My rent is ₦150k, and I make sure to save ₦20k every month for it. I get lunch at work, so I only have to bother about breakfast. Transport costs me about ₦400 daily — about ₦10k a month. I use the rest to buy provisions and toiletries. My brother lives in Lagos and supports me by paying my school fees once in a while — about ₦60–70k for my online programme at the university where I’m studying economics.

I ended up staying until 11 p.m. today before they said I could leave. Thank God I got home safely.

THURSDAY

I don’t know if everybody in this city got hungry and decided to eat fast food, but the eatery was filled to the brim, and the cashiers were so overwhelmed, one of us had to beg the manager around to help us. Jesus, the noise, fights and shouting? Two customers even got close to throwing blows because they couldn’t agree on who was next in line.

Rush-hour days like this have become very common. We’ve been begging management to hire more people, but they said revenue isn’t enough. Every day I come to work, I stay on my feet for eight to ten hours, and my body begs for mercy. It’s against the rules to sit down. Once my shift starts, I must be on my feet until they let me go. If a manager catches you trying to rest even for one second, you don enter wahala be that.

All I was thinking about the whole day was how I don’t have to come to work on Saturday. I work Sunday to Sunday, but I have one day off during the week. The way I’m going to sleep?

FRIDAY

The night blinked by so fast my head was turning when I woke up. My first thought was how I don’t want to be stuck here. I don’t want to wake up by 5 a.m. every day, rushing to a job that’s killing my joy. But I have to pay rent, buy food and pay my school fees.

Even though I don’t like the job, it’s the only one I could find that I can work while schooling. Some jobs with better pay, once you tell them you’re in school, they’ll say they don’t want your wahala. So I can’t complain too much.

I have two weeks of leave per year. My exams usually run for one week, and I have two of them each year. So I usually go on leave during exams. I’m in 200 level now and still have three years to go.

Exams start in two weeks, and even though it’s an online program, I have to go to campus for revision classes until exams. It’s bothering me even more because I have to go to school today. Juggling school with this cashier work is hell. After serving people on my feet for nine hours non-stop, I’ll jump into a cab and rush to school. I know I’ll be too tired to even hear what the lecturer is saying, but at least, I’ll get points for attendance, abi?

SATURDAY

As I am now, I’m living my life for someone else, because every day, I dress up to go and do work I don’t want to be doing. I like handling money, making sales and attending to people, but not under these conditions. It’s the reason I took this job and now, I’ve been working as a cashier for two years, but nothing has improved, but I hope that’ll change soon.

I want to take back control of my life. I have an idea to start supplying zobo and tiger nut drinks to restaurants, but I don’t have capital. I don’t know how lucrative it’ll be, but even if I get the same amount as my ₦40k salary in profit every month, I don’t mind. As long as I’ll have a little more control of my life and no longer have to work at the eatery.

From my calculations, it’ll cost about ₦700k to start because, for fast-food restaurants to even consider you as a supplier, you have to be able to deliver in large quantities consistently. I hope I can get a loan for it. The prices of things I’ll need to buy are going up every day, but God will help his child.

I held on to this hope as I locked my door and went to work. It’s the same hope on my mind when I get back home.

Tomorrow is Sunday which happens to be my worst day of the week because it’s always our peak period for sales — family time out, dates, flexing, meals before and after church service, church food time with members — always a crowd.

Nobody wants to work on Sunday morning because of all that work. But last last, someone must have to do it either by choice or force.

Breaking free from all the stress is the only thing on my mind these days. But for now, I have to get some sleep and rest well ahead of work tomorrow.

Check back for new A Week in the Life stories every first Tuesday of the month at 9 a.m. If you’d like to be featured on the series, or you know anyone interesting who fits the profile, fill out this form.

Yes, I want to be featured!

Ama Udofa

September 13, 2022

A Week in the Life, Hustle, Money

a week in the life, cashier, Fast food
“A Week in the Life“ is a weekly Zikoko series that explores the working-class struggles of Nigerians. It captures the very spirit of what it means to hustle in Nigeria and puts you in the shoes of the subject for a week.

For nine hours every day, 26-year-old Daisy* calls 180 loan defaulters to get them to pay up their debts. But when she’s overlooked for a promotion after two years, she starts doing the bare minimum while she figures out her next career move.

Photo by MART PRODUCTION via Pixels

MONDAY

My typical day starts at 7 a.m., but I go back to sleep and wake up fully by eight most days. If I had to go to the office, I’d wake up at six and leave my house at seven. But thank God my company now lets people like me, who’ve been on the job for a long time, work from home.

I take my bath and do skin care — even though I work from home, it’s annoying that I have to use sunscreen, according to skincare experts. SMH. Then I hotspot my smartphone to my laptop and get ready to get through the day. My work is straightforward: I ask customers to pay up their gbese. I’m pretty much a call centre agent, so when a call comes to me, it’s because a customer has picked up and I’m an available agent.

I interact with customers until 6 p.m. when I log off. 5 p.m. is the official closing time, but everyone is used to working until six because, targets. If I need to take breaks, they have to be for less than 30 minutes each. But I can’t complain.

After work, I’m too tired to do anything, so I fry eggs, drink tea or order food. I don’t have time to cook a full meal because of my limited break time. I spend the rest of the night social media-ing, and catching up on texts and calls from friends, before going to bed around 11 p.m.

TUESDAY

At 8:50 a.m. when I sat at my desk to meditate before my first call today, I thought about how my target used to be 150 calls per day. It soon increased to 160. As the company continued to expand, they increased the loan collection targets till I was making 180 complete calls per day — a complete call means I dialled, the customer picked, and I introduced myself: “Hi, my name is Daisy. I’m calling you from [insert company name].”

The day flies by as I take call after call and try to keep my cool because I’m not a very patient person. Word on the gossip line is the company has struggled to raise funding recently. It seems the company’s runway is depleting, and so, there’s serious pressure to recover as much money from debtors as possible.

My company used to outsource loan collections to an agency I worked for, but during COVID, they terminated the contract, and I got laid off. Then I applied to join the company’s in-house collections team and got in. At first, I was a high performer, hitting my targets and winning departmental awards. But after personnel changes and reviews, the workplace became toxic.

The turning point was when I got passed on for a promotion. As one of the founding members, I’d been recommended by a team lead and even worked in the marketing team temporarily. I was enjoying my new role upstairs, and for three weeks, I thrived. Then HR came from nowhere and said they weren’t aware of the arrangement, and they’d already hired two people for the role. They sent me back to the loan collection team. I was devastated. Since then, I’ve been on autopilot.

They made things worse by encouraging competition to the point of toxicity. People would come to work from 7 a.m. to 6 p.m. because the more calls you make, the higher your chances of recovering money. All this just so they could meet targets and get paltry bonuses. I did it for a while and would earn an extra ₦45k here or ₦60k there. But the payment didn’t match the effort.

That’s why they’re expanding the loan collection team from the current 65 people to 100 by the end of the year. So I expect the targets to keep increasing. Things are bad, and the economic downturn in the country means people aren’t making enough to pay back their loans. This makes the work much harder for us, and we’re scared of being laid off.

WEDNESDAY

Omo. Today, I lost my shit. I understand people are struggling, but please na. I already hate when they assign me late buckets — people more than one month overdue — but this guy who’d defaulted for 35 days and counting was still doing anyhow. I’m supposed to ask why they’re delaying payments, and then, figure out a way to get them to “drop something”.

But this guy hadn’t shown any commitment, by making a part payment or even extending his loan. So I told him, “How much can we get from you today, Mister man?! Me too, I used to borrow money na. What’s all this?”

I get the late bucket customers because I’m one of the more experienced people on the team, but nobody pays me for the extra stress. Loan defaulters can be so annoying. They feel like we debt collectors can’t do anything because the company’s penalties are lenient. We only charge them a tiny percentage in late payment fees for a week, and then, we attempt to auto-debit their accounts. But these sneaky people leave their accounts empty.

What we do is flag them as credit defaulters, but most ordinary Nigerians don’t even care. Only those trying to leave the country or who need good credit scores to run businesses do. But those kinds of people rarely default on their loans.

When I’m introducing myself to customers, I have to prepare myself because, depending on their mood, conversations can go south very quickly. Sometimes, it’s difficult to stick to the script.

I’m not proud of going off on that guy today. But sometimes, when they start moving mad, I want to give it back to them hot-hot. Our calls are recorded, and my quality assurance (QA) score will surely take a hit, but we move.

THURSDAY

Today, there’s gossip going around that the company’s trying to review the bonus structure again, but I don’t even care. The base pay for my role is ₦110k monthly. Just as recently as three months ago, people got up to an extra ₦80k if they met three key performance indices (KPIs): QA score, output and recovery.

The old system was something like this: If my team calls 1m customers, we’re supposed to recover at least 70% of the debt. If I call 3k customers in a month and they were owing ₦3m, I must recover at least 70% of the money. If I hit my 70% target, and my team meets its 70%, it means I’d meet the recovery KPI.

I also need a QA score of 90%, which is measured by following the call script, being empathetic, maintaining a certain tone of voice and requesting complete or part payments. This has been my biggest issue as I usually score between 82% and 89%. I don’t care about customers’ reasons for defaulting payment. Just pay the money you owe.

Before my first short break at around 1:30 p.m., I called a debtor, and before I even finished introducing myself, she’d started shouting, “Ahn ahn! I already told you people I don’t have any money. Please please please, you people should let me rest. Your colleague called me yesterday and the day before yesterday. Why will you be calling somebody every day?”

Wait o, am I not supposed to ask them for the money they promised to pay? Shey she dey whyne me ni? Is she the only person who’s ever borrowed money? What kind of nonsense is this na? When I dropped the call, I knew I was going to score zero on QA, but God no go shame me.

Some defaulters even lie that they’ve paid and there must be something wrong with our app. Mad people.

All this stress and they’re still changing the rules. The most recent one was them introducing some kind of tier system for bonuses. Basically, even if you meet your 180 calls per day and score above 90% in QA, if you didn’t recover up to 70% of the top performer’s recovery in the team, your other two metrics have gone to waste. It’s things like these that cause unhealthy competition and working conditions.

We wouldn’t go for breaks just because we were trying to meet targets. Some people didn’t even have time to eat; they’d bring food to work and take it back home. Even me that likes to talk, my mouth was paining me.

I no longer give a fuck about the job. Imagine doing backbreaking work nine hours a day, for ₦110k a month with bonus wey no even sure. You recover millions for a company, but your money or career isn’t increasing or improving.

I’d hoped I’d grow in the role and, in two years, become a team lead or get into project management or digital marketing or something. But I’m stuck in the same role, and there’s not much room to grow, so I have to start looking out for myself.

These days, I’m just doing enough to not lose my job. I won’t do more than I’m paid for because fintech won’t kill me for my mother. All the OGs are already leaving the company. I’m just biding my time while I figure out my next move.

FRIDAY

I’m always grateful for Fridays because I’m a social butterfly. Work may weigh me down, but when I turn up? I turn up. As I turn on my laptop, all I’m looking forward to is close of work so I can go to SOUTH and unwind. I’m tired. All my body needs right now is their Long Island. The thought of it is the only thing that’ll get me through the day.

While I’m having lunch and taking a break from those annoying loan defaulters, I think about trying new things and keeping at them. In the recent past, I’ve tried project management. I finished the course, but I got bored when it was time to apply my knowledge. I’ve also tried data analysis, SQL and digital marketing, and now, I’m about to complete a course in virtual assistance. Maybe my experience in customer relations and communication would help me thrive in that role.

I often think I don’t have the grit to succeed, but maybe I’m just scared of starting over in an entry-level role. I don’t know again abeg. Too much thinking and too little time. I finish eating and get back to work.

My weekend afternoons are for the virtual assistant course I’m taking. Evenings are for “we outside”. When next Monday comes, I’ll face it bravely.

Check back for new A Week in the Life stories every first Tuesday of the month at 9 a.m. If you’d like to be featured on the series, or you know anyone interesting who fits the profile, fill out this form.

Yes, I want to be featured!

Ama Udofa

September 6, 2022

A Week in the Life, Hustle, Money

a week in the life, Debt, Debt collector, digital bank
“A Week in the Life“ is a weekly Zikoko series that explores the working-class struggles of Nigerians. It captures the very spirit of what it means to hustle in Nigeria and puts you in the shoes of the subject for a week.

After failing to get a job with his pharmacy degree, Nicholas* switched to content writing. Now on a ₦135k monthly salary, he’s tired of doing the same things every day to put food on the table. What’s an ideal future for him? To get crypto writing gigs that’ll make him a millionaire.

MONDAY

Every day, I wake up between 6 and 7 a.m. to do the same things: devotion, and meditation, and then I resume work at 9 a.m. I work remotely, so I only have my bath after my team’s standup meeting around 10 a.m. Then I ask my assistant to run me through my to-do list, which typically doesn’t have much to excite me.

I’m the head of communications at a company that creates courses for professional development to help people get into crypto. My job is straightforward: I manage all public relations going out of the company, including content writing and design. And even though the marketing team handles social media, all their content still has to go through me to ensure they match our brand tone and voice.

After work, I close my laptop and either pick up a book or watch TV and sleep. The next day, I do the same things all over again.

TUESDAY

In 2015, I graduated with a pharmacy degree, did my internship in 2017 and served the following year. But when I tried to get into the job market, I realised, omo, e be like this thing no too pure. From hospitals to institutions in Ebonyi and Abuja, where did I not apply to? My dad even sent my CVs up and down. After a few months, I told myself, “It’s like I will use what I have to get what I want o.”

I used to write stories before I graduated, so I decided to try content writing in early 2019. I worked for someone in the United Kingdom for six months. It was hell. The man was supposed to pay me ₦80k, but I was doing everything in the company: manager work o, designer work o, even personal assistant. But he had the nerve to still delay my chicken change salary every month.

Before my birthday in June, I begged this man to pay me my money on time. He said, “Okay, I’ll look into it.” Oya now, birthday came and passed, and man did me “Aired DFKM” on top money I worked hard for. He paid me for June in July, and delayed my August and September salaries. By October, I couldn’t take these delays anymore, so I quit.

I was out of a job until the COVID-19 lockdown in March 2020, doing odd freelance jobs and collecting small small money. Then the CEO of my current company reached out to me to join his startup. I’d edited his pitch deck for free a while back, so when he reached out to me, it was to offer me the job.

I started in the company as a content writer, and after 10 months, I got promoted to head of communications. My job is pretty monotonous these days, but I prefer it to when I worked as a pharmacy intern.

As I take my bath after morning stand-up today, I think how different my current life isfrom when I was practising pharmacy. Before, I’d have to be at work attending to patients from 8 a.m. until 8 p.m. It was stressful as fuck, and I always returned home drained. Now, my schedule is flexible; I work from home, lead a team and delegate tasks.

When I get back to my work table, I dive into monotonous work for the next six hours: planning webinars, editing course content and looking for ways to improve the company’s processes for external communications — same old, same old.

WEDNESDAY

Omo, they’re dragging my boss today. The thing about startups is we make mistakes and learn as we go. In an ideal setting, the marketing team should involve me in their projects at the planning stage, But omo, these guys just created briefs, wrote up documents, got them approved by management and brought them to me to edit at the 11th hour. I was like, WTF? But management pressured me to just do it like that and keep it moving.

There was a backlash when the information went public, just as I’d warned. And as things heated up on the TL, I advised everyone to not respond to anything until we figured out damage control. But the CEO entered the dragging, and things got messy on Twitter, Facebook and in our Whatsapp community groups. I was so pissed because we could’ve handled the situation better, but this man no dey hear word. Omo, they ratioed his life so much I had to involve the company lawyer.

It’s been a long day, and I just want to go to bed. But I check the time. It’s still 3 p.m. Why does time crawl when you’re not having fun?

I just mute my Twitter app and continue working on the document I’ve been drafting for the past week. It contains the plan to help smoothen the flow of information across teams to prevent stuff like this from happening in future.

THURSDAY

After all the drama of yesterday, when I woke up this morning, my body kind of refused to get the memo that work continues, but sapa is always a good motivator.

During today’s standup meeting, I ran through my plan for improving communications, and it hit me that I don’t have regrets about switching from pharmacy to content and PR sha. I sabi work; it’s just I’m not where I want to be.

These days, my life is a blur. There’s no passion. When I wake up in the morning, there’s no ginger, nothing to look forward to. I’m tired of writing just to put food on the table and pay bills. Between 2017 and 2019, I used to write stories to submit to journals and magazines, and there was always something to look forward to. I miss the thrill of getting acceptance letters and the heartbreak of rejections, for example.

Now, I’m just tired of the monotony of corporate daily life. I’m doing the same things every day and not earning enough.

My company currently pays me ₦135k net, and I get an extra ₦100 – ₦120k from freelance work. I want to earn millions, so I don’t have to take on so much work in my spare time to make up for my salary. I need to have time to create content I love.

I can’t wait for the weekend sha. I took this gig recently, writing about crypto stuff for a guy who pays me ₦8 per word. For him to be able to pay me that much, he probably earns close to a million naira monthly. He’s a middleman who gets contracts and outsources them to me, but I found someone who gets gigs from a direct source and has promised to link me up as long as I can build my portfolio and show workings. I plan to do just that, so help me God.

*Subject’s name has been changed to protect his identity

Check back for new A Week in the Life stories every first Tuesday of the month at 9 a.m. If you’d like to be featured on the series, or you know anyone interesting who fits the profile, fill out this form.

Yes, I want to be featured!

Ama Udofa

August 30, 2022

A Week in the Life, Hustle, Money

a week in the life, Public relations, public relations writer, writing
“A Week in the Life” is a weekly Zikoko series that explores the working-class struggles of Nigerians. It captures the very spirit of what it means to hustle in Nigeria and puts you in the shoes of the subject for a week.

Today, a woman who sells loans to Nigerian police officers walks us through the chaos of dealing with aggressive officers, why she dislikes the job and her plans for the future.

Image credit: POLCOOP

I have to be at work by 8 a.m., so I wake up at six. My my mum is already preparing breakfast, so I sweep the house, take my bath, eat breakfast and prepare for work. By 7:30 a.m., I leave the house.

I work as a loan advisory officer at a company that offers loans to police officers, and my work involves convincing the officers to take the loans. It’s a weird job. Instead of outright pushing a product like the average salesperson, my work is more advisory. I show them why they need the loan and guide them through the process.

When I get to the office, it’s meetings, meetings and meetings. And then, I hit the road looking for policemen who need money.

The loan company works with the Integrated Payroll and Personnel information system (IPPIS) to offer the loans. I joined the company as a customer service agent when I wanted to move up the career ladder from being a pre-school teacher. Then the company restructured and moved me to sales. I hate anything to do with sales targets because it comes with competition.

For instance, a police officer who’d taken his first loan through me relocates to another city. When they get there, they may want to take another loan. I have to be very careful to prevent my colleagues from reaching them before me because all the company cares about is us bringing in loan requests. If I let a police officer seek loans from another advisory officer, I’ve lost. I have to be very jealous about my customers.

Before, when a police officer tells me they want ₦100k, for example, I’d just process their loan request. But, omo, I have targets to meet o. Nowadays, I upsell to them. I’ll ask, “Are you sure?” and try to convince them to ask for more. I like this part sha, because I’m improving, and I know it’s a valuable skill I’ll need when I decide to switch careers.

My life is also full of fear. Travelling outside my state so often just to convince police officers to take loans stresses me, especially with the country so insecure. I’ve heard stories of robbers attacking police stations to destabilise them before going into town to rob. My daily fear is, what if I get caught up in a crossfire?

And I’m a young lady. Have you met Nigerian policemen? Imagine meeting them every single day. The average Nigerian policeman is aggressive so I get threats and visits to the police station often. The most recent instance was after one of them applied for a loan term of six months, and for some reason, IPPIS continued deducting from his account until the eighth month. He was refunded eventually, but he refused to let it go. He’d also asked me out earlier, and I’d refused, so maybe that’s what was paining him. He came to the office, rough-handled the customer service lady and carried us to the police station where he lied that I’d disrespected him and taken his money.

After everything was resolved, I came to work the next day and nobody even looked at me. I don’t think I’m cut out for this kind of life, but I have to eat.

By 3 p.m., I’ve visited five police stations and scored seven leads. The economy is hard and people need more money, but I don’t know if that’s a good thing. I’m really tired when I get back to the office. Little do I know I’m coming back to wahala. There’s this drunkard policeman who comes to disturb me every other month. Even though I’ve explained how loans work to him, he still comes to complain when money is deducted from his salary. Why are police officers so dramatic?

The only thing that’s keeping me here is money. I’m currently still in school and I have to pay for it. ASUU strike is helping me because I don’t have to combine work and school for now. I can focus on work and learning digital skills. I look forward to a time when I no longer have to do loan officer work for Nigerian policemen every day. I’ve started learning content marketing through online courses. I practise what I learn during the weekend, and I hope to start it as a career soon.

Omo, it’s been a long day, and I can’t stress myself thinking too much about these things. I just want to go back home and rest.

Check back for new A Week in the Life stories every first Tuesday of the month at 9 a.m. If you’d like to be featured on the series, or you know anyone interesting who fits the profile, fill out this form.

Yes, I want to be featured!

Ama Udofa

August 25, 2022

A Week in the Life, Hustle

a week in the life, Loan officer
“A Week in the Life“ is a weekly Zikoko series that explores the working-class struggles of Nigerians. It captures the very spirit of what it means to hustle in Nigeria and puts you in the shoes of the subject for a week.

This week’s “A Week in the Life” subject is Mimi Faith, a female painter thriving in a male-dominated industry. This means dealing with gender stereotypes and misbehaviour from male clients. One thing keeps her going though: her ambition to own a home in Lagos.

MONDAY

If I have to work on the island, I’ll wake up around 4:30 a.m. to beat Monday morning traffic. If I’m working on the mainland, I can wake up a little later. But I never sleep past 6 a.m.

When I wake up also depends on whether I’ve already inspected the space I’m supposed to paint. If I have, it’s ji, ma sun, because I’ll have to leave at first light. But if I’m just going for inspection, I don’t have to rush so much. I’ll sha still get my handbag ready, put in my scraper, measuring tools, pen and paper, along with all the other tools I’ll need for the inspection.

All that doesn’t matter today because I don’t have any active jobs. So I’ll step out of my house to scout new buildings in my vicinity, or the ones under renovation. I’ll go with my brochures, colour palettes, pictures of designs and measuring tape. Depending on who I meet there — engineer, owner or site supervisor — I’ll introduce myself and find out if they already have a painter.

Most of the time, they tell me they do, but it doesn’t stop me. I’ll show them I can do designs most painters can’t because I’m not a regular painter, I’m a decorative painter. Last last, if I don’t get to work with them on a particular project, I’ll try to build a relationship so they can keep me in mind for future jobs.

I didn’t get any jobs today, but we move. Tomorrow, I go again.

TUESDAY

People are always surprised when I walk into a site, introduce myself as a painter and pitch my services. Today, an engineer shouted, “You say you’re a painter? Are you sure you can climb ladder?” I’m a woman in what people consider a male-dominated industry, so the disbelief isn’t surprising.

Some don’t believe me even after I show them photos of my work, including photos of me at work. Most of the people I meet on building sites give me small jobs to test if I can actually do what I said I do. Some ask me if I’m the one who actually does the painting or if I want to collect the job to outsource it to men. When I finally get the jobs, the site supervisors will keep coming to make sure I’m doing as I said.

Thankfully, most of my jobs come from social media and referrals. Since I post about my work consistently, and I’ve done work for many social media connections, my online audience trusts my work. At 10 a.m, while I was at a site close to my house, someone reached out to me on a Facebook mutual’s recommendation.

Their compound wasn’t too far from where I was, so I quickly headed over there, inspected the apartment and negotiated payment. It’s a quick job that won’t take more than two days so I spent the rest of the day buying paints and prepping the building for tomorrow.

WEDNESDAY

I worked on the apartment all day and lost track of time. It was only until my boyfriend called that I realised it was already past six. When I was on the bus, I realised how tired I was. All that was on my mind was the kind of deep sleep I’d get when I got home.

My boyfriend gave me the massage of my life, and I slept off before I knew it.

THURSDAY

Pinterest got me into painting. And it was even by mistake. I’ve always liked do-it-yourself (DIY) crafts. Two years ago, I was trying to decorate my house and needed to install wallpapers, so I went on Pinterest for inspiration. Before long, I started looking into wallpaper installation classes online. Soon after, I followed a guy on Instagram, who would eventually train me.

But the turning point was seeing the painting design he did in his corridor. I fell in love with it. That’s when I knew I wanted to become a painter. Even though wallpaper installation was easier to learn, I quickly got bored.

Today, I went to finish up yesterday’s work and had to face the hardest thing about my job: painting ceilings. It’s not that I’m short o; it’s just everyone is taller than me. When I’m painting high points like ceilings, my neck and shoulders scream in pain. But I push through the pain because I chose this work, so how woman go do?

By 2 p.m., I was done and the owner of the apartment was happy. Job done; smiles guaranteed. On to the next one.

FRIDAY

When I first started painting, I met a lot of nonsense men. I quickly realised safety was — and may always be — an issue. Most men contact me to come and inspect their space, but when I get there, they’ll be like, “I been just wan see you”. When it’s not madness.

I’ve tried a few things to prevent situations like this. Sometimes, I ask for photos and videos of the place to be painted, so I can gauge how serious they are. But people don’t know how to take pictures or record videos well. Some are so bad I have to go and check out the place anyway.

There was a guy who reached out to me to check out his place. We fixed an appointment, and when I got there, he started telling me things like, “I don finally see you for real life.”. What’s my business? You called me for painting and you’re now telling me to sit down and talk and go out on a date. I just carried my bag and started going back home.

Sometimes, men even ask for a date as a condition to hire me.

My own is let it end in talk sha. Let nobody come close to me or touch me. So I go with a colleague if I have a bad feeling about a potential client.

What really pains me is how people assume I get jobs automatically because I’m a woman. When in reality, people are always doubting me, especially when it comes to pricing. Very often, I hear things like, “Na because say you be woman, na hin you dey charge this much?” Some people think they’re supporting me or doing me a favour.

Male painters don’t go through all these shalaye. They just negotiate, do the work and collect their money. When it’s my turn, people will be doing plenty permutations.

We move sha, because for me, every job is an advert. I want someone to walk into any room I painted and ask who painted it. I focus on doing excellent work, exceeding expectations and getting referrals. My online presence is helping me very well, and some repeat clients still call for me no matter where they are in Nigeria.

To be honest, I’ve been fortunate. When I was starting out, a Facebook friend hired me to repaint her apartment. While I was painting, she went live on Facebook and was broadcasting to her friends. Someone noticed I was standing on an inverted bucket to reach the ceiling and offered to buy me a ladder. I thought it was a joke, said thank you and kept it moving. Omo, after I finished, the person said he was serious o, that I should find out the price and let her know. He later sent me the ₦35k for the ladder. That was one of the most touching things anyone has ever done for me.

SATURDAY

Today, I locked down a contract for a building on the island from a referral, as usual. I start work next week and should be done in three to five days. It’s a big deal for me because it’s another chance to show that I sabi this work. I’ll use this weekend to rest and recharge. Next week, I’ll go there and kill it.

Stuck in traffic heading back to the mainland, I had the chance to reflect on my work. Normally, I feel like I’m not doing enough, but today, I feel fantastic. I’m just two years into this career, and it surprises me how much I’ve grown. I want to be the best I can be, and I know I can do anything I set my mind to — except cook egusi sha.

I’ve worked with women who’ve achieved a lot — women like the one whose house I’m coming from. I see women rent, build and buy houses in expensive areas of Lagos, and I know I want to do the same. The one that pains me sha, is when they say my work ethic inspires them. I dey inspire you, but na you dey build house for Lekki. Please.

By the time I get home around 8 p.m., my boyfriend has prepared dinner — rice and stew. But it’s not enough. It’s been a long week, my body is paining me and the weather is cold. I want a massage and plenty cuddling.

If you liked this story, also read: I’m the Only Woman at My Job — A Week in the Life of An Oil and Gas Engineer at Sea

Check back for new A Week in the Life stories every first Tuesday of the month at 9 a.m. If you’d like to be featured on the series, or you know anyone interesting who fits the profile, fill out this form.

Yes, I want to be featured!

Ama Udofa

August 16, 2022

A Week in the Life, Hustle

a week in the life, painter
“A Week in the Life” is a weekly Zikoko series that explores the working-class struggles of Nigerians. It captures the very spirit of what it means to hustle in Nigeria and puts you in the shoes of the subject for a week.

What’s it like to be a receptionist in Lagos? It involves a lot of patience. In this week’s “A Week in the Life”, Ogechukwu Agwu, a receptionist who works at an FMCG company in Lagos, tells us about dealing with snobbish callers, reporting co-workers who come late to work and why she’s grateful for her job.

MONDAY

I never use an alarm because my body just knows I need to get up and chase capitalism. Every morning, I wake up at 5 a.m., and then, I join my family’s morning devotion for 15 minutes.

For the next 45 minutes, I prepare lunch for my family, have my bath and dress up. By 6 a.m, I’m ready for work, but I don’t leave the house until 6:30 for security reasons and because of my eyesight, as I have myopia.

I must be early to work because, as a receptionist at a fast moving consumer goods (FMCG) company at Abule Oshun, Lagos, I’m the face of the office and the first person anyone meets when they step into the building.

I arrive at 7:45, and when I step into the office, I wash my hands and feet from the dust of public transport and bad roads. I also wash my face and hair, top up my moisturiser and sunscreen, and mentally prepare myself for the day.

On Mondays, the sales teams and company affiliates come in for several back-to-back meetings, so there are always so many people around. As I brace myself and mentally prepare to attend to many people today, a salesman opens the door, comes in and says hello. I look at my watch and see it’s ten minutes to eight. His arrival is my cue that the first day of a long week has started.

TUESDAY

Apart from the very many salespeople, the rest of the week follows the same pattern: take calls, meet people, take records and help them reach solutions. If a driver comes in and needs to deliver a package, I’m the person they turn to. If an order for a shipment comes through and the driver needs to pick up their products, it’s me they’ll meet.

This also means I have to deal with all kinds of people, both well-mannered ones and the ones with attitude. The “do you know who I am” energy around here is insane. Someone can come in and want to walk straight into the offices, and I’m like, “Hi. Good morning. Who are you here to see?” and they’re looking at me like, who is this crap?

Such is the life of a receptionist.

WEDNESDAY

On a normal day, do I like meeting or talking to people? No. But I like this job. This is one of the best companies I’ve ever worked at, where what they promised in my job description is what I’m doing — not much extra work. And even the extra work sef, it’s beg they’ll be begging. So when I’m at work, I give 100% and feel fulfilled.

Some days, I just come to work, sit down and go home. But there are days when I have to be on my feet, running around and trying to sort out issues here and there. A big part of my work is attending to the drivers moving products, and they give me serious headache.

Like a driver today, he came to carry 100 cartons of products, but the vehicle he came with couldn’t possibly contain everything. Man just came to sign. I looked through my window and asked him, “Wait o. Is that your vehicle?” In cases like this, the warehouse may have documented for him to carry 200 cartons first and come back for the remaining 300. But these drivers won’t inform me. So when it’s time to balance the books, my own documents won’t correlate with the warehouse people’s.

I spent the rest of today fighting fires — calling people up to balance out documents, a driver’s diesel finished and needed money, another person needed money to replace truck tires.

By the time I got home, it was almost 8 p.m. I was so tired, I didn’t even do my full skincare routine. I just took my micellar water, cleaned my face, had my bath and closed my eyes to sleep.

THURSDAY

What I dislike most about work isn’t work. It’s the process of getting to work. Even though I’ve been working here for a year now, I’ve still not gotten used to the daily commute. I’m not an early morning person, so it’s always a struggle.

One time, I had to squat in a bus carrying pineapples and other farm produce because there was no danfo on the road. The bus didn’t have any seats, so I squatted all the way from Volks to Abule Oshun. By the time I got to the office, I was already tired.

One of my duties as a receptionist is to check the roster for arrival times of co-workers and mark lateness. In this company, lateness starts at 8:30 a.m. Anyone who comes in by 8:31 gets ₦500 deducted from their salary per late day at the end of the month. Anyone who arrives after 9 a.m is minus ₦1k, 10 a.m is minus ₦2k, and so on. At the end of the month, I draft an Excel sheet to report defaulters.

When I joined the company last year, the lateness deadline used to be 9 a.m, possibly because of the COVID-19 pandemic, but human beings know how to misuse grace. People started coming by 10, 11, so my boss pushed the deadline back to 8:30 a.m. and imposed the fines. People sat up immediately. But it pained me because now, I have to rush to the office before eight o’clock every morning, especially as I’m the first point of call in the company.

I’ve only ever come late to work once — around to nine — and of course, they reduced my money by ₦500. I couldn’t even disguise because, as I entered the office late, I jammed HR. But no wahala sha. Never again.

Roseline wearing the glasses frames she sells

FRIDAY

It’s TGIF today, but not for me because my Saturdays are to chill. I also have time for my side business selling frames for eyeglasses.

When I left my office today at 4:30, it hit me that for once in a very long time, I’m actually enjoying my day job. Because me, I’ve seen shege.

In my previous job, I was both receptionist and cashier at a lab on the island, where I worked six days a week. I was also an errand girl they sent to the bank. It was a horrible place to work, and I barely had personal or family time. But I now have time to do things like chill with family and attend choir rehearsals and still run a side-hustle without stress.

As I board the danfo, I know I’ll get home before 7 p.m despite the rush hour traffic, and cook dinner for my family.

If you loved this receptionist’s story, you may enjoy: A Week in the Life of an NCDC Call Centre Agent

Check back for new A Week in the Life stories every first Tuesday of the month at 9 a.m. If you’d like to be featured on the series, or you know anyone interesting who fits the profile, fill out this form.

Yes, I want to be featured!

Ama Udofa

August 9, 2022

A Week in the Life, Hustle

a week in the life, FMCG, receptionist
“A Week in the Life” is a weekly Zikoko series that explores the working-class struggles of Nigerians. It captures the very spirit of what it means to hustle in Nigeria and puts you in the shoes of the subject for a week.

What’s it like to be a skincare formulator in Nigeria today? For Happylyte, it means producing carefully crafted products made with love, yet fighting logistics drivers and dealing with dishonest suppliers every day. But she’s taking her struggles in stride because her eyes are on the prize — to become a medical aesthetician someday.

MONDAY

I work from home, so I don’t have to rush anywhere.

But I prepare for work as if I have to go to a physical office. By 8 a.m., I’m at my desk, replying to inquiries and confirming payments for my products.

Life here in Makurdi is very peaceful. The labour and rent costs are low — my delivery person charges ₦1k or less to take my products around town or to the bus park for interstate deliveries, and my two-bedroom flat which includes my lab, costs just ₦400k per year.

But living in Makurdi is not the best for my business. I’m a one-woman company, and running this business is a lot and can be very monotonous. I used to have staff, but they weren’t producing the quality I needed — it’s hard to find quality technical labour in Makurdi. Luckily, I can make phone calls while I work. I just connect my Airpods and talk to friends and family for hours. I work until night — sometimes, I even sleep at 2 a.m.

TUESDAY

Tuesdays are the same as Mondays. But sometimes, like today, I order raw materials. Depending on which I want, I can order from Japan, India, Korea or Lagos. For oils, herbs and spices, India has the best.

I got my plug from Instagram, from a lady who orders in bulk for vendors because the oils are expensive, and minimum order quantity costs are too large for me to bear alone. I join money with other skincare formulators to place orders. When they arrive in Nigeria, she distributes them to us.

When I want cosmetic powders, I order from China. I used to order from Lagos, but as my business grew, I switched because I get better quality from abroad, and it’s way cheaper when buying in bulk. I get sunscreen from Korea and Japan.

Ordering from Lagos is extreme sports because anybody can scam you at any time. Some of the powders I use to formulate my skincare products are very similar. They’re white and their textures are almost the same. There was one time I got chemicals from Lagos.

I ordered alpha arbutin, which is soluble in water, but the supplier sent kojic dipalmitate, which only dissolves in oil but is much cheaper. The best way to test it before using is to put some in water and determine which one dissolves and which doesn’t. But that day, I was in a hurry, so I added the powder to the mixture, which included water. That’s when things got interesting.

Alpha arbutin doesn’t tolerate heat, so it’s usually the last thing I add when formulating creams. When the powder didn’t dissolve, I realised it was kojic dipalmitate which ruined the whole formula, and I lost over ₦200k. I was wrecked.

What did the vendor do? She told me, “Sorry, ma.”

My delivery guy sha returned to the supplier’s shop, and the woman gave him some almond oil worth ₦16k to compensate me.

Very agbero people, these Lagos suppliers. Sometimes, when I order carrot essential oil, they’ll send me a carrot carrier oil instead. But no be every time person dey fall mugu. I now know what to look out for, so when I see it’s not what I ordered, I return it and make them correct my order and pay the delivery fees. Nonsense!

WEDNESDAY

Every Wednesday, I always tie my belt for drama from bus drivers. I had to refund a customer’s package today. It got lost in transit, and the logistics company was giving me story. Logistics will make you run mad.

One called me and was asking me to describe the place I wanted him to deliver to. How would I know? I’ve never been to Onitsha in my life. I gave you the receiver’s number for a reason for God’s sake.

I’m always tranferring aggression with drivers. When a driver shouts at a customer, the customer calls me and shouts at me. Then I’ll call the driver and shout at them, and on and on it goes.

But that’s not even the worst. In 2020, I had a driver who took my parcel home and gifted it to his wife.

After ignoring my calls for days, this man blocked my number. A week later, his wife called me to ask me how to use the products. When I asked her what and what was in the parcel, and where was her location, she told me, “Gboko.” I checked my records, and I never sent anything to Gboko .

I asked her where she got the products from. She told me it was her husband who bought them for her from Abuja. I asked if her husband drives for Benue Links. She said yes, sometimes. I told her, “Your husband is a thief ma. He stole your parcel.” She also cut the call and blocked my number. Like husband, like wife.

Every Wednesday, I always tie my belt for drama from drivers. I’ve been in this business for years, but you can never get used to the rubbish.

THURSDAY

A mistake people make too often is using products because they work for someone else. Just because someone says, “This one works for me,” you now drop the one you were using and run and go and buy that one. The lack of consistency and shifting goalposts every now and then will ruin your skin. Why are you using so many skincare products?

Someone can hear someone say, “Oh my God, this moisturiser was so good for me.” And then you with dry skin that’s supposed to be using a moisturiser that has plenty oil and lots of hydrators — you’ll now leave the one they made for you and go and another person’s own, and then your skin will now be cracking.

I’ve had a situation like that and her skin cracked so bad I had to recommend her to the dermatologist because that one don pass my power. I can make skincare products but I’ve not licensed to treat skin diseases.

FRIDAY

I don’t have a degree in chemistry — I studied economics in uni — but I’ve taken several training cosmetic formulation classes online, from Udemy, Coursera and The Formulator’s Shop. And there’s nothing I love more than listening to dermatologists and cosmetoligists talk on websites like Making Cosmetics, Brambleberry and Soap Queen. Offline, I learnt to make black soap and shea butter from local producers.

I have processes and products that ensure my products are safe. If I want to make body cream, for example, the first thing I do is decide what I want that body cream to do. Do I want it to be a moisturiser? Do I want it to have a brightening effect, etc? The hardest part about formulating skincare and cosmetics is creating — and sticking to — the formula. It involves plenty maths and accuracy. I have to determine the types of active formulas I want to use, their percentages and how they can work with each other instead of against each other.

Before packaging, I stabilise my creams at a pH safe for the skin (4-5 – 5.5). For soaps, they need to be more basic (7.5 – 9) because if soaps are too acidic, they’ll not foam.

I keep my products for at least a month. During this time, every week, I check for the smell, whether there’s mould growing on it and also check for consistency, making sure they’re exactly the same as the first day I made them. After that first phase of testing, I try the products on myself.

I have a very sensitive skin, so if it’s a bad product, my skin reacts immediately and I dump it. If it’s a good product, my skin would accept it, then I start sending them out in batches. My close family and friends usually try my products for me before I launch them too.

Sometimes I go to the inbox of customers and I say, “Oh, I have a product I’m trying out. Would you like to help me test it out?” When they do — because nobody says no to free products — they give me their honest review, then I make amendments before releasing them to the market. My formulation process usually takes about three months.

I don’t let anyone into my lab, not even my mother. I don’t even open the windows in that place. Because if something funny blows in, it can touch something it’s not supposed to touch. I control the temperature with a fan and then the AC from my sitting room filters into the lab.

I also label all my ingredients on the products so people know what they’re putting on their skin. I don’t claim to be an organic skincare maker because some of these people just mix a bunch of stuff they’re not really sure about.

SATURDAY

After such a challenging week, today went great. I didn’t have any problems with delivery or with customers.

Asides from the occasional difficult customer, my customers are great. I’ve managed to build myself into a brand that people trust and I’m grateful.

When I go to bed tonight, I’ll dream of the future. I’m trying to be a medical aesthetician. I want to be trained and certified to give chemical peels. When I started becoming interested in skincare, I never know it’d turn to a business. I was just doing it because I liked local soaps and creams.

But if I become a medical aesthetician, I will be cetified to administer things like chemical peels which require special training. In the next three years, I hope to take SIDESCO and CIBTEC exams and take my career to the next level.

I’m smiling as I’m thinking about my dreams and logging into Netflix. Thank God for the weekend.

If you liked this story, also read: The Doctor Who Ditched Clinical Practice to Sell Perfumes — A Week in the Life

Check back for new A Week in the Life stories every first Tuesday of the month at 9 a.m. If you’d like to be featured on the series, or you know anyone interesting who fits the profile, fill out this form.

Yes, I want to be featured!

Ama Udofa

July 26, 2022

A Week in the Life, Hustle, Money

logistics, Makurdi, skin care vendor, Skincare formulator
A Week in the Life is a weekly Zikoko series that explores the working-class struggles of Nigerians. It captures the very spirit of what it means to hustle in Nigeria and puts you in the shoes of the subject for a week.

The subject of this week’s A Week in the Life is Hero Lewis, a maths teacher based in Port Harcourt. He talks about learning patience on the job, why he misses flogging students and the aspect of his job that brings him the most joy.

Cover image via iStock

MONDAY

Every Monday, except I’m exhausted, I wake up by 4 a.m. and commit my day to God’s hands. I grab breakfast, freshen up and mentally prepare myself for the week. Then, I get ready for work.

Transport to school can range from ₦150 to ₦250 depending on if I use a keke or cab. I arrive at 7:30 a.m. and join the assembly, which lasts from 8 to 8:20 a.m., after which students disperse to their classes and the bell for the first-period rings.

I teach math at a senior secondary school, and the first item on my schedule is to teach SS1 for two 40-minute periods. I teach maths and physics from SS1 to SS3, so my Mondays are jampacked until school closes.

After school today, I stumbled into two students from Uniport who’re doing pre-degrees and trying to gain admission into 100 level. They needed help with maths, so I assessed them, only to discover how bad they were. But I promised to tutor them.

The economy isn’t smiling, so I take classes outside my day job at school. Some students from my class convince their parents to enrol them in my after-school classes. So, even when I close from school by 4 p.m., work has not finished. I move to different places around town for private tutorials.

From Monday to Sunday, I have private classes until 7 p.m. when I truly close from work. I only compensate for all the stress by making sure I rest at night.

TUESDAY

Maths is boring and tiring, and if you don’t teach it in an atmosphere of joy, you won’t get anywhere with your students. That’s why I have a few tricks. For example, when I walk into a class, I don’t just start teaching. I take a few minutes to tell an interesting or funny story. When my students are really feeling the story, and I’ve caught their attention, then I start teaching.

But it doesn’t end there. I take short breaks to crack a joke and tell a relatable story. When I ask a question students can’t answer correctly, I correct them with care so they’re not demoralised. Many students look forward to my class.

When parents hire me for private tutorials, nine times out of ten, the student asked them to because I teach them very well at school but they want to do even better. These days, I’m overbooked, so if someone wants to hire me to tutor them, omo, the money has to have serious weight.

Thank God good work has a way of advertising itself because, again, the economy is not smiling. That’s why I invest a lot of time into being a better teacher each day. After all, it’s from where person work person go chop. If they do the work well, they would chop well.

Hero Lewis in class

WEDNESDAY

Irrespective of where you come from, numbers remain numbers. Maths is the most universal language. That’s what I always tell my students. So if a child’s maths foundation is faulty, they would struggle. I’ve seen students change what they wanted to study because math is hard and their foundations aren’t solid.

Earlier in my career, there was an SS1 student who was terrible at maths. I was called to help them, and based on “I believe myself die”, I dived right in. After assessing him, I was shocked. The boy’s rate of assimilation was very low. And the thing about parents is, when they hire tutors, they expect magic. They expect to start seeing results immediately. They want their children who were bottom of the class to start blasting A’s next term.

Unfortunately, this boy failed the next exam. So I had to switch tactics. I started by helping him revise the multiplication table — it’s not every time you depend on calculator. I went back to the very root to teach him things he should’ve already known before getting to SS1. I taught him foundational fractions, decimals, percentages, profit and loss, etc. It took months, but it was worth it because they’re building blocks. Gradually, he started catching up. I would ask, “eight times seven,” and he would respond, “56!” in a blink of an eye.

One day, the boy won a maths drill in assembly and received a voucher as a reward. The principal called his parents and confirmed their son had improved in maths and sciences. I’ve never been happier.

THURSDAY

As a maths teacher, the most valuable lesson I’ve learnt is patience. Secondary school students are a handful and every day is a test. But I have the experience to handle stubbornness without losing my head.

But it’s not always been rosy. There are some people who challenge your every sense of restraint. Like one SS3 girl a few years ago. I swear children like her can ruin someone’s career. I was hired to tutor her for WAEC, but I was brought in late. There wasn’t enough time because I had to go back to primary school level to even make a mark. Unfortunately, it was too little too late.

In the early years of my career, there were students who drove me to extreme anger. I would teach something this minute and ask them the same thing the next, and they would be mute. I would be like, “Ahn ahn, why is this one giving me problem like this na? Something I just explained now now?” In my mind, I’d be like, “Make I tear this girl slap?”

FRIDAY

I had to deal with noisemakers again today, and I’m happy how much things have changed. In those days, any student who misbehaved or made noise in class would receive major punishment. By the time you receive five or six lashes, it’d be like they poured you water to make you calm for the rest of the day.

Many schools no longer allow corporal punishment. And that’s a good thing, I won’t lie. I used to flog students because it was the easiest punishment, and it was just to assert authority. But I’ve found sometimes, students are restless and just want you to divert a little from the subject, to tell a story or banter and make learning a little more engaging. As a teacher, I realised that in any atmosphere you enter, it’s your person that sticks. A joyful person will encourage a joyful atmosphere while a sad one will reflect sadly on the students.

Maturity has come in, and I have a different outlook on life, from the need to flog all the time. Sometimes, I just issue threats. Another tactic is when I get employed at a school, I’ll be very stern at first, then later, I calm down.

The downside of no more flogging is teachers have to talk too much these days. Sometimes, I wish I could still flog. Some children are so stubborn that out of the 40 minutes period for a class, I can find myself using 15 minutes to manage the class and calm students down. Something that cane would’ve solved, I now have to talk and talk. But the government says teachers shouldn’t flog again, so no wahala.

SATURDAY

I work so hard because of inflation. I find myself spending much more money to enjoy the same meals I’ve enjoyed for so long. But I’m not getting younger, and I can’t keep working every day of the week for the rest of my life.

I would like to do my master’s, so I no longer have to work so much just to get by. The more you learn, the more you earn. And since secondary schools don’t pay much, I want to level up.

I’ve told my students my days with them are numbered. I know they’ll miss me, but I hope their next maths teacher will treat them with the same level of care.

If you enjoyed this story, you might also like: “Nigerians Think They Know English” — A Week in the Life of an IELTS Tutor

Check back for new A Week in the Life stories every first Tuesday of the month at 9 a.m. If you’d like to be featured on the series, or you know anyone interesting who fits the profile, fill out this form.

Yes, I want to be featured!

Ama Udofa

July 19, 2022

A Week in the Life, Hustle

maths teacher, Patience, Physics, Port harcourt
“A Week in the Life“ is a weekly Zikoko series that explores the working-class struggles of Nigerians. It captures the very spirit of what it means to hustle in Nigeria and puts you in the shoes of the subject for a week.

The subject of this week’s #AWeekInTheLife is Elastiick Abah, a fitness coach. He tells us about his training regime, rigid personal diet and the fitness myths that make him scratch his head the most.

MONDAY

My week technically starts on Sunday — if I don’t have anywhere to be on Sunday afternoon, I design meal plans and workout programs for my clients. So when I wake up on Monday, all I do is go out and kill it.

The gym opens by 6 a.m., so I wake up at 5 and head out to the Lekki branch of the popular fitness chain where I work, thirty minutes later. From 6 – 7 a.m., I train five people, but my peak period is between 7 – 8 a.m. when the most people troop in. Ideally, I would be done with my morning shift by 12 p.m., but you know people who only work with African time na? So sometimes, I have to stick around until 1 p.m. Then, I head to the Sangotedo branch.

I’m supposed to work one shift per day, but in February 2022, I started working two shifts for two reasons. I’m trying to fund a personal project, and I need the extra money. The second reason is that I’ve worked five years at the Sangotedo branch and gotten bored and demotivated by being in the same space every day. So I decided I needed a change of scenery and moved to Lekki Phase 1.

I created a transitionary period for myself which will end in July [2022]. During this time, I would work at two gym locations — Lekki and Sangotedo — and ease out of the Sangotedo area. I’m worried about leaving five years of building and nurturing a community of around 100 clients behind, but change is important.

Before May 2022, after my morning session, I would fly a bike to Sangotedo to save time. But since Lagos banned okadas, any day wey traffic dey, I enter the traffic like that. I find a corner of the gym to sleep until 4 p.m. when my evening shift starts. I have different sets of clients every hour until 9 p.m., then I head back to Lekki. Depending on the traffic, I can get back home anytime from 9:45.

Today, there was heavy traffic because it rained, so I got home at 11:30.

TUESDAY

On Tuesdays at 7 a.m., I have a general class called “Tabata”, a high-intensity interval training (HIIT) routine in which participants get active for 20 seconds and rest for ten. They repeat the cycle for five to eight rounds and the class lasts between 45 minutes and one hour. After that, I step out for lunch.

I used to eat six times a day. I’m an ectomorph — someone with a very high metabolism rate — and I have a physically active job. So I need lots of calories; I need to eat big to get big.

At 6:20 a.m., I’d take fruits: two apples and a handful of berries and grapes. By 9 a.m., I’d have oatmeal, a banana and an egg, with peanut butter and milk. At noon, I could have rice with vegetables and chicken or beef. I’d have pasta or swallow — either wheat or pounded yam and soup — at 3 p.m. At 6 p.m., I’d eat Irish potatoes with vegetables. When I got home at 10 or 11 p.m., or anytime Lagos traffic let me reach my house, I’d have rice, potatoes or spaghetti. Sometimes, it could be yoghurt or whatever else was left in my fridge.

And let’s not forget supplements. I would take several types — the pre-workout, inter-workout and post-workout supplements. They contain whey protein, creatine, glutamine, mass gainer, omega 369, etc., and cost about ₦150k every three months.

But all that changed because I’ve gotten a lot leaner since I took on two shifts. I also haven’t been able to work out since February because I’m stressed out from training so many people in a day and can’t afford to push my body further. If I try it, it’ll shut down. I’ve lost a lot of muscle mass and am now a shadow of my former self. I can’t wait to fully transition to the Lekki branch and get done with the personal project I’ve been raising funds for, so I can get back to working only evening shifts like a normal person, and resume working out.

The supplements have also doubled in price. It now costs me the same ₦150k to buy just half of what I used to take two years ago. In 2022, I would buy whey protein for ₦10 – 15k, but the same container now costs anywhere from ₦38k. A tub of mass gainer went from ₦22k to ₦48k, and creatine, from ₦12k to ₦20k. These are the only ones I still use. I’ve stopped buying the rest.

When I got home at 10:30 p.m. today, I prepared for Wednesday — boiled my eggs ahead of breakfast, packed my gym bag — and went to bed around 1 a.m.

WEDNESDAY

The only thing different about Wednesdays is that I have a circuit training class at the Sangotedo branch in the evening. For circuit training, I create obstacles and a series of workout routines for my clients to complete in a stipulated amount of time.

Something happened today at the Sangotedo branch that made me tear laugh. The Sangotedo gym is located in the same building (upstairs) as a pizzeria (downstairs). One of my clients worked out for one hour and left the gym. But just minutes later, I looked out the window and saw this woman sneaking out of the pizzeria with a chairman-size pizza box. I made a video to show her the next time she came to the gym.

She reminded me of another client — a lady who kept complaining bitterly that she wasn’t losing weight. Two weeks ago, this woman finished working out at 9 p.m., the last session of the day, only for me to come downstairs and spot her standing at a shawarma spot.

I often tell clients that I can only be in charge of what they do in the gym. I can’t follow them around to monitor what and how they eat. It’s behaviour like this that’ll annoys — and hurt — any fitness coach. When clients aren’t making progress because of their habits, it feels like we’re not doing our jobs well. We’re not magicians.

THURSDAY

Mehn, the kind of things I see at the gym! Gym bros make me laugh. If it’s not the ones walking around shirtless to show off, it’s those who think lifting weights that are too heavy for them will impress women. These “alpha males” mark territory and want everyone to know, “Na we dey run this town.”

The commonest thing I hear people say about personal trainers is that we’re ashawos who steal people’s women. Nothing could be further from the truth. For me, I just have a lot more female clients than men, and so naturally, I’ll relate with more women. But being a fitness coach is a proper career, and personal training has rules and ethics.

All I’m focused on is my clients’ progress. The best thing that happens to me on this job is when a client goes from a skinny somebody who can barely lift the bar, to being buffed up and lifting 50kg, five months down the line. When I see a client who comes in obese, loses weight and starts moving about more confidently, it fills my heart with joy.

I often receive gifts from such overjoyed clients. Like today, someone dashed me Airpods Pro. The kind of sweet sleep I’ll sleep this night will be legendary.

FRIDAY

I spent a better part of today trying to get two new clients to unlearn all the marketing myths. These fat women had been taking things like weight-loss teas, and even when they lost weight, they’d quickly gain back even more weight.

And that’s because they don’t work. These teas and pills and waist trainers are just products of marketing. They don’t do shit. You’ll drink a weight loss concoction, and it’ll make you purge. You’ll lose water weight and think you’re losing actual weight? No. Too many people are looking for shortcuts and don’t want to do the actual work.

There’s a science to losing weight — you simply have to adopt an active lifestyle and eat at a calorie deficit.

For the next few months, I’m going to work with them to reset their mindset and adopt the best practices. If they can follow through and be consistent, I can’t wait to see their progress one year from now.

If you enjoyed this story, you might also like: “People Think I’m a Sex Worker” — A Week in the Life of a Massage Therapist

Check back for new A Week in the Life stories every first Tuesday of the month at 9 a.m. If you’d like to be featured on the series, or you know anyone interesting who fits the profile, fill out this form.

Yes, I want to be featured!

Ama Udofa

July 5, 2022

A Week in the Life, Hustle, Money

Fitness, Fitness trainer, personal trainer
“A Week in the Life“ is a weekly Zikoko series that explores the working-class struggles of Nigerians. It captures the very spirit of what it means to hustle in Nigeria and puts you in the shoes of the subject for a week.

The subject of this week’s #AWeekInTheLife is Lola Salehu, a Nigerian product designer based in Dubai. She tells us about switching from coding to design, the intentional way she sees the world and the most important thing on her bucket list — to change her passport.

MONDAY

I live in the UAE and work for a company in the United Kingdom (UK), so I’m three hours ahead. I can decide to start working at 9 a.m. my time, or noon (9 a.m. UK time). Today, I’m choosing 12 p.m.

But before then, I go to the gym from 7 a.m. to 9, return home and freshen up. I recently started taking hair and skin care seriously, so I spend an hour on those before settling down to a light breakfast of oatmeal.

When I resume work, it’s a lineup of meetings until the end of the day, aligning with other team members and business stakeholders until 3 p.m. Then, meetings with my team members for the next two hours. After that, I could do some hands-on design, run feedback loops for my team or analyse data to get insights that’ll help us decide what to build next.

When I close from work around 7 p.m., I shift to my personal projects. I’m currently working on a course for designers, and volunteering at upcoming tech communities. Then I take a walk and grab dinner, which could be a burger or jollof rice. If I’m feeling fancy, I buy shawarma. When I get home, I eat, and around 10 p.m., I go to bed.

TUESDAY

I lead a team of two product designers, one brand designer and one web designer. While Mondays and Wednesdays are heavy-meeting days, I do more hands-on work on Tuesdays and Thursdays.

As a product designer, my Tuesday can involve collaborating with other teams — marketing, sales, finance, engineering and product teams, etc. I make digital products that work and people can use — phones, laptops, watches or even VR headsets. The products I design must solve problems for both individuals and businesses.

Every company has business goals, and I’m working to achieve a goal every quarter. My job as a product designer is to make people care about how the business intends to solve the problem. It involves elements of storytelling, innovating and prototyping solutions that I think will solve whatever problem the company is looking to solve for its customers.

To do this, I talk with the customers a lot. My job involves a lot of collecting and interpreting data to make sure we’re prioritising what they really want and deciding on what’s nice to have while considering the business objectives. At the end of the day, I need to make sure my team has met those goals.

WEDNESDAY

Today, I worked on testing out a user flow with customers. In product design, a user flow is the path a user takes to complete a task on a website or app. I recorded the process from start to finish and couldn’t help but notice how flexible this job is compared to my previous one.

These days, I’m more flexible with the kind of data I collect and work with. I can watch recorded sessions to observe the behaviours of our customers and make informed product decisions on the fly. Unlike when I was in fintech and couldn’t record certain things. For example, you can’t record sessions on a fintech app in case a user might be typing in their card details.

I loved being at the centre of payments processing in Africa, but fintech in the West is very different from how it works in Africa. Yes, there are regulations, but the government won’t just wake up one day with a policy that would reset your business, for instance.

THURSDAY

I love teaching when I’m not working. That’s why I’m putting together a course for designers. In my spare time, I also have speaking engagements in tech and youth events where I pick a topic and teach people about it. I’m a designer, so naturally, I can’t shut up about design, which is funny because I didn’t always want to be a product designer.

I was a software engineer for two years, and there was this designer at the company I worked. While I’d be scratching my brain over coding a feature, this guy would be designing the next one. I thought it was easy, and I was like, “Omo, I don’t want to be doing 2+2 = X logic coding for the rest of my life.”

Only for me to switch to product design and see pepper. But I realised engineering and product design are pretty much solving the same problem in different ways. Nothing is easier than the other. While coding is logical, design is analytical and creative. I liked this way of solving problems, so I stuck with it.

After work at 6 p.m. today, I went out for a walk and took pictures of the cityscape. When I got back home, I journaled for a bit before sleeping. I love documenting memories of even the most random things and writing or creating photo journals to relive them.

FRIDAY

On Fridays, the TGIF energy starts early. I mean, it’s the weekend!

I see the world in colours and pathways and processes. That’s why I love living in Dubai. This city started as a desert; all they had was sand. But they designed this sprawling city with so much thought and intention, and were successful at it. I apply this mentality to everything I’m doing, and I know everything will come out fine.

But another thing that drives me is my desire to escape the limitations of having a Nigerian passport. While we have a rich history, culture and creativity, there’s not much Nigeria has done for me — instead, it often takes from me.

I want to change my experience and see what the world offers. I don’t want to stay three hours extra at an airport because I’m Nigerian. I don’t want to meet people who’re wary of me because I’m Nigerian. So in five years, I see myself in a new life with a new passport and glorious new adventures.

If you liked this story, you might like this too: “I’m a Firefighter at My Job” — A Week in the Life of a Fintech Marketer

Check back for new A Week in the Life stories every first Tuesday of the month at 9 a.m. If you’d like to be featured on the series, or you know anyone interesting who fits the profile, fill out this form.

Yes, I want to be featured!

Ama Udofa

June 28, 2022

A Week in the Life, Hustle, Money

a week in the life, Lola Salehu, Product Designer
“A Week in the Life“ is a weekly Zikoko series that explores the working-class struggles of Nigerians. It captures the very spirit of what it means to hustle in Nigeria and puts you in the shoes of the subject for a week.

The subject of this week’s “A Week in the Life” sells gadgets at Computer Village. He tells us about the chaos of the Village and how he manages to stay faithful in a market infamous for dishonesty.

SUNDAY

I sell phones, laptops and accessories in the Lagos Computer Village. My week starts on Sunday night because business almost never stops — na them dey rush us.

From 6 p.m. until around midnight, I respond to messages from people making inquiries. When I receive payment for an order, I verify it and schedule delivery for Monday morning or whenever they need it. Doing so on Sunday nights makes my already busy Mondays more bearable.

MONDAY

I wake up by 5 a.m. every Monday morning to get ready for the week. By 6 a.m, I leave Ogba and head out to my shop in Computer Village, Ikeja. Depending on the traffic situation, I can get to my shop by 7:30 or around 8 a.m. Resumption time is 9 a.m. but I like to arrive early so I can get a head start. Also, the orders from the previous night need to be dispatched as early as possible. If I waited until 9 a.m. to resume, stress would kill me.

I get most of my orders from social media and Whatsapp, from first-time customers and a network I’ve built over the years.

By 12 p.m., I take a two-hour break to either nap, stroll around the Village or go see my girlfriend who lives close by. I head back to the shop at 2 p.m. and keep selling until 6 or 7 p.m. when I close and head home. Sometimes, people keep coming after 6,especially those who have office jobs, and I have to attend to them.

At 7 p.m., I turn off my data, put my phone on silent and place it in my backpack because the way home is dangerous at night. I also put any cash I have into the bag and hold it as if my life depended on it — I’ve been a victim of pick-pocketing before.

Due to Monday’s rush-hour traffic, it takes two or three hours to get home. I have dinner, respond to more inquiries and take more orders until sleep calls.

TUESDAY

Computer Village is wild gan! If you lose guard, you go collect. But even with all the warnings, some people are either too naive or don’t hear word. I saved someone from being duped today.

If you’ve ever been to Computer Village, you know that it’s very easy to get scammed. Everyone knows about buying a phone only to find out that there’s fufu inside, right? That’s old news. The reigning one these days is taking the panel of an older model of a phone and wrapping it on a new model to dupe unsuspecting customers. They can cover the panel of an iPhone XR in an iPhone 13 casing.

A woman came to my shop and asked to buy a London-used iPhone 13. The market price of such a phone is ₦430k. She complained that it was too much and went elsewhere. Soon after, she called me and started cussing me out. She called me a thief just because she felt my price was too high. After all, she found someone to sell it to her for almost half my fee.

After she’d finished ranting, I told her it was unnecessary. She could have either told me she wasn’t buying or given me the “I’ll get back to you” line and ghosted. There was no need for her to insult me. She hung up and forwarded a message to me on WhatsApp. Someone was willing to sell it to her at ₦250k.

I did a double-take and asked her if that vendor was in Computer Village. I told her it was impossible for someone to sell an iPhone 13 for so cheap, even if it had faults. She kept arguing, and then, she sent me a photo of the phone. I took one look and knew it was a scam. But she refused to believe me. According to her, I just wanted to chop her money.

I’d have collected my “L” and kept it moving o, but I decided to get her to ask the vendor about the phone. I told her to tell them a fellow vendor was asking. The vendor admitted that it was an iPhone XR in an iPhone 13 case.

She started wondering why they didn’t tell her from the beginning. In Computer Village? Where almost everybody is hustling by hook or crook? Plis dear!

I don’t take disrespect lightly, so after that conversation, I deleted her number along with the Whatsapp conversation. I was angry.

WEDNESDAY

In Computer Village, every day, new drama. Everybody thinks they’re smart — not just traders; even customers do dishonest shit. But me I sha know how to give close marking.

Today at the shop, these three guys came to buy laptops and behaved strangely. I know there are customers who can’t make up their minds, but these ones rubbed me off the wrong way.

I closed the door and stood by it, making sure all three guys were inside. As they kept asking for laptops, dropping them and asking for more, me I knew it was “format”. I promptly texted my shop assistant to watch them closely and ensure she returned every laptop to the show glass as soon as they dropped it so that we won’t hear stories that touch. The guys got frustrated and left eventually. Awon oloshi.

Editor’s pick: The Zikoko Guide to Surviving Computer Village

THURSDAY

The first rule of Computer Village is to never follow anybody you don’t know. Those boys and men who prowl the streets, who don’t have shops, avoid them. The best thing is to have a trusted plug or get a referral. Even if you don’t know where you’re going, you must never show it. Find a proper shop and do your business; never trust a stranger.

People fall victim every day. Like today, I went to get a spare part from a colleague and found somebody sitting in his doorway. After some time, people at the shop noticed he wasn’t doing anything, so we asked him to leave if he didn’t have any business there.

The guy (let’s call him Bayo) told us he was waiting for someone. Who? He mentioned someone nobody had heard about. We suspected foul play and asked what happened. This man told us he needed to change his screen, so when he got to the Village, someone approached him and said he could fix it. But first, Bayo had to give him ₦15k to buy a new screen as he was just an engineer. When he was done, Bayo would complete the payment for workmanship.

The man brought Bayo to the shop and told him to wait, but hours later, neither screen nor “engineer” was anywhere to be found. We just told Bayo, “Your phone don go. Sha dey go house.”

We taunted him sha, because that’s how we do. How you go follow person wey you no know like zombie? At least, whenever he hears gist about Computer Village, he too will have a story to tell.

FRIDAY

In Computer Village, everybody minds their business. If you see someone getting duped, mind your business. Most times, it’s their greed that’s getting the better of them. Unless you want to put yourself in trouble, just keep it moving.

Sometimes, a deal goes bad and the customer returns. Maybe they were sold something that didn’t last as long as expected or developed a fault. They’re not coming back peacefully; they’re coming back with “Indaboski”. Unless I know the seller and can vouch for them, in which case I’ll step in and try to resolve the conflict, but if I don’t know them? As I see the angry customer starting go cause a scene, I’ll just do “eyes right”.

The biggest lesson I’ve learnt is to be a straightforward person. When I started this business in 2013, I was lucky to be handheld by the kindest vendor, and his values have stayed with me.

So even though Computer Village is infamous for deception, I choose to keep my customers happy because nothing matters to me more than peace of mind. I treat everyone as if they’re my only customer, and it has worked for me so far. I get a significant amount of referrals weekly.

Thankfully, my customers treat me the same way.

If you enjoyed this “A Week in the Life”, check out: A Week in the Life of a Computer Technician Selling Ewa Agoyin on the Side

Check back for new A Week in the Life stories every first Tuesday of the month at 9 a.m. If you’d like to be featured on the series, or you know anyone interesting who fits the profile, fill out this form.

Yes, I want to be featured!

Ama Udofa

June 21, 2022

A Week in the Life, Hustle, Money

a week in the life, computer village, Gadget seller, iPhone 13, Laptops
A Week in the Life is a weekly Zikoko series that explores the working-class struggles of Nigerians. It captures the very spirit of what it means to hustle in Nigeria and puts you in the shoes of the subject for a week.

When this ghostwriter started writing in 2014, her rate was ₦1 per word. 8 years later, she’s making 7 figures per project. Maybe one day she’ll release a book with her name but right now, she doesn’t care — as long as the pay is good. This is #AWeekInTheLife of Ebimoboere Ibinabo Dan-Asisah.

MONDAY

I work from home and I’m my own boss, so my day can start anytime, and waking up for me is vibes and inshallah. But when I’m feeling responsible, I wake up around 10 a.m. It takes an hour for my brain to boot completely, and then, I find something random to read for the next hour — could be an article or story online.

By around 11-ish, I make coffee, shower, dress up, open my laptop and get to writing. For the next four hours, I’ll grind out about 7,000 words. I average about 1,000 words every thirty-or-so minutes, a writing muscle I’ve built over the past ten years. It helps when I’m on a deadline; I write even faster. But there are some jobs that are so complex I simply cannot rush because doing so would be trying to kill myself.

By 5 p.m., I take a two-hour break to cook or read something casual. Around 7, I’m back to work, but this time, I make corrections and review what I’ve written — basically become my own editor. By 9 p.m., I take another break to watch a movie or hang out with my partner, who’s also my roommate.

Depending on how much work I have to do, after this break, I could either prepare for bed or go back to writing till 4 a.m.

TUESDAY

I ghostwrite anything from articles to research papers to full-length books. My writing process is simple. Usually, a client approaches me with a brief. This brief contains the project requirements and guidelines or plotlines to follow. Once we agree on terms and conditions, I get to work. If it’s a biography, I conduct interviews. Then, I mimic what I think would be the client’s writing style. Once I finish writing, and the client is satisfied, they buy the work from me. What that means is I have no ownership of the work. I have no copyright, no royalties, no cuts from sales or merchandising or movie rights.

I have nothing to do with the work once I’m done writing. I’ve written a few things that became big, but I can’t take credit. It doesn’t bother me, maybe because when I started writing, my main motivation was money. I didn’t go into it because I wanted my name on the New York Times Best Seller list. I didn’t have those dreams when I first started. All I wanted was to get paid. It’s only now that it’s beginning to occur to me that I may need to put my name on something and let people know how good I am, because I’m good.

But even then, it’s still just a back-burner desire. I’m working on a novel, but I’ll complete it in my own time. There’s no rush. Right now, I’m good with earning six figures consistently.

WEDNESDAY

When I woke up today, it hit me that I’ve been ghostwriting for so long, I now feel like a robot. But I love it because it’s given me an opportunity to be whoever I want to be, do whatever I want to, write and earn a living from it.

Ten years ago (in 2014), if you’d told me that I’d have a career as a ghostwriter, I wouldn’t even have known what that meant.

I stumbled into ghostwriting because I was poor and needed money. I wasn’t just in the trenches — If there was a rung below the trenches, that’s where I was. During the holidays before I started 300 level, I went home and there was no money. I had to do some introspection to figure out how to earn and help with the upkeep at home. I didn’t have any fantastic artistic or technical skills. The only thing I could do was write.

I didn’t even consider myself a writer because the only time I’d ever done any writing was in secondary school — English essays in classwork and exams. But at that point, my only options were writing or sex work. I decided to try writing first.

I reached out to friends and told them I was looking for writing jobs. Luckily, someone introduced me to a guy who was paying ₦1 per word; he asked me to send samples of my work. I didn’t have any samples, so I quickly wrote an article of 750 words and sent it over. He gave me an assignment to write 3,000 words in two days and paid me ₦3k for it — the first money I ever made. I was so excited.

THURSDAY

Today, after coffee, I worked on my current project, a sci-fi novella in a dystopian future. Taking a break, I let my mind wander.

Being a ghostwriter is interesting because I get to write on a diverse range of topics. There’s literally no genre I’ve not written about, from the most niche topics to the most technical and even batshit crazy stuff.

Like the time I started, in those dark days when I was earning ₦1 per word, there was this guy who had a fetish for eating boiled eggs and farting. I got him through a middle man. When I looked at the brief: a 3,000-word erotica about swallowing boiled eggs whole and farting. I was mortified, but I needed to eat. So I accepted it.

During that period, I wrote the most unhinged and twisted stories. There was a time when PornHub was the default page in my phone’s browser. Think of anything. There’s porn for it. I had to do tons of research because these clients needed the most specific descriptions. There’s even a subgenre of porn called vore, where people get sexually aroused from seeing people get swallowed or imagining being swallowed whole. I remember writing one about Godzilla flinging people into its mouth. I’ve come across people who get off from the wildest things.

But I’m thankful I no longer have to write things like that. I started writing around 2014 and wrote at ₦1 for about six years, until I graduated from university, fell out with parents, got heartbroken by my boyfriend at the time. So I took on a writing job. My boss was toxic and kept devaluing my work. She’d broke-shame me because she knew I was earning peanuts from ghostwriting, which was ironic because she only paid me ₦50k a month.

In my personal life, shit got real for me. I had a law degree, but I wasn’t ready to go to law school only to come back and work for ₦25k while running errands for whatever law firm.

In 2019, I got duped. I got a gig to write a dark erotic romance novel, which is a genre of fucked-up love stories. I was excited for the project because it’s a genre I really liked, and also the most money I would’ve made at the time. The 50,000-word project would earn me ₦150k at ₦3 per word. The client paid me ₦50k up front and was supposed to complete the payment when I was done.

Turbocharged, I finished the book in record time. But in excitement, I made a huge mistake — I sent the entire manuscript before receiving payment. He ghosted me. It broke my heart. I initially wanted to publish it, but I didn’t even know the first thing about publishing.

In 2020, I was depressed and my writing wasn’t giving. When I tried to kill myself, I knew I had to leave my parent’s house in Port Harcourt. I moved to Lagos and squatted with a male friend for some time. Not a great time because his girlfriend wasn’t okay with the arrangement. I was stranded, and it was then I realised I could no longer write at ₦1 for a word.

When I got fired from the writing job I hated, I increased my rates to ₦5 per word. Clients resisted. Many of them ran away, but two clients liked my work too much to let me go. After a couple of months, I raised my rates yet again to ₦10 per word and got even less patronage. But I didn’t budge.

In 2021, I realised I was shortchanging myself because I’m too fucking good to be counting words. So I decided to start charging per project. While I endured the wilderness for a while, eventually, an acquaintance recommended me to a client who agreed to pay me what I asked for — six figures! He told me his projects earned him as much as ₦10m per job.

Everything changed for me. In the past year, the least money I’ve earned from a project is ₦780k. And I don’t intend to ever go lower. If it’s not paying me six zeroes, I don’t want. One of the projects I’m currently working on will earn me ₦10m when completed.

But it isn’t all roses. I’m a freelancer, so jobs don’t come consistently. Sometimes, it rains; sometimes, it’s a drought.

FRIDAY

It’s been a hectic week. Today, I’m just going to unwind. I’ll resist the temptation to open my laptop. I may work tomorrow, but today, I’ll go to Landmark Beach. On my way back, I’ll stop by my favourite spot on the Island to drink craft beer.

When I come back home, I’ll cook seafood pasta and drink merlot. Problem no dey finish. Tomorrow, we go again.

ALSO READ: A Week in the Life of a Bookstagrammer Hoping to Go Global

Check back for new A Week in the Life stories every first Tuesday of the month at 9 a.m. If you’d like to be featured on the series, or you know anyone interesting who fits the profile, fill out this form.

Yes, I want to be featured!

Ama Udofa

June 14, 2022

A Week in the Life, Hustle, Money

fame, ghostwriter, projects
A Week in the Life is a weekly Zikoko series that explores the working-class struggles and victories of Nigerians. It captures the very spirit of what it means to hustle in Nigeria and puts you in the shoes of the subject for a week.

On today’s #AWeekInTheLife, we feature Samiat Salami, who designs textile prints which she uses to make ready-to-wear clothes and home decor. She walks us through her design process, the pains of running a global business in Nigeria and how difficult it is to find plus-size models for her robes.

MONDAY

I’m not an early riser because I wake up multiple times during the night, so I usually get out of bed at 9 a.m. Because I have asthma and tend to wake up with a sore throat thanks to the air conditioner (AC), the first thing I do is have a cup of tea to help me clear my sinuses.

I try not to open my phone or computer first thing in the morning because if I do, anxiety will kick in, and I’ll get caught up in the slog of it all for the rest of the day. So while enjoying my beverage, I like to live in the moment for a bit; I can read a chapter of fiction on my toilet seat or mosey around the house.

By 10 a.m., I finally switch my phone on. And the minute I do that, it’s an avalanche that never ends, back-to-back calls or emails or whatever else I need to catch up on.

As a textile designer, I work with many artisans, and it’s a lot of stress! I get so many calls from people going, “We’ve run out of blah blah blah”, “Did you really want it this way?” and “Because we did it this way the last time and you didn’t like it, we thought we have to ask you specifically before…” Yeah, there’s just a whole bunch of back-and-forths.

I also work with manufacturers who sew my designs into actual products. So I’ll need to give and receive feedback from them as well. Then, I have to work with retailers I sell my stuff to in the US, and they would usually have follow-up questions. I also do a healthy amount of customer service following up with direct online orders and on social media.

Around 1 p.m., my team members come to my house where the living room doubles as my studio, where all the following-up comes to a head. All the “Do we like this print?” “Do we not?” “Will this print be better for robes or tableware?” “Do we need to talk about different marketing ideas?” “Do we need to shoot a campaign?” “Are we planning for this?” questions get answered from 1 – 6 or 7 p.m. We just go ham and it’s pretty intense. The day tends to be very fast-paced, but we make sure to take short breaks for lunch and to catch our breaths.

By 6 p.m., I’m hammered and restless. So when everybody leaves, all I want to do is go for a walk around my estate. I have a restless body that’s always trying to keep up with my mind and walking helps me catch up. When I get back, I just collapse into bed.

Samiat Salami

TUESDAY

My process of designing textiles begins with prints and patterns. I’m inspired a lot by the flora and fauna of Nigeria, and I do a lot of research for each collection, about the origin of a plant, how it falls, what it’s like, the colours… I often take long walks in nature, taking loads of pictures of flowers and other beautiful things I see. I curate all these photos into a mood board. Then I work with my illustrator to refine them.

For example, for the hibiscus prints I’ve been working on for months, it was just me taking loads of different species of hibiscuses I’ve seen in nature. I took pictures in Nigeria, and in California and Florida. After photographing, I’ll study the patterns, like how they go from red to yellow, for example.

Next, I work with my illustrator to create digital designs inspired by my mood board. Then we’ll send them to a really lovely man in Osogbo with whom I like to work, and fabrics for him to hand-draw the patterns on — he has to translate our illustrations into something that’s a lot more illustrative by hand. When he’s done creating the sample prints, we’ll go through several iterations until we get it right.

WEDNESDAY

I only meet my team about three times a week, so when I’m not having anyone come around my apartment, like today, I’m running around Lagos.

After catching up on emails and correspondence at around 12 p.m., I head out to Surulere or Lekki where my manufacturers operate, to approve things and discuss samples and finer details of new products.

For example, if I’m doing a fit test — putting a garment on a fit model — I’ll have to make different iterations to get it right, and that can take a whole day because it involves a lot of back-and-forths. It’s like: “cut it”, “put it on”, “twist it this way”, “put it back on”, and so on…

I use myself a lot, which is interesting because I’m not the typical fit model. I have very small body parts, and I’m only five-two. When people think of models, they’re typically tall and slender and have no curves. But that doesn’t translate into the body of many Nigerian women. This is why so many people struggle with traditional brands.

For me, I’m smallish, and I have thighs and boobs, and all sorts of things that aren’t straight, so I need to know how the clothes fit me so I can translate how it would fit other body types. This is why I’m size-inclusive. One of the reasons I started my brand is that I got frustrated struggling to find clothes that fit me.

So now, I make clothes for people of different sizes: people who are larger, people who are thinner, people who are top-heavy or bottom-heavy, etc. I want everybody to feel comfortable and safe and happy in my clothes. I don’t want anyone to have to feel like they’re conforming to any standard of beauty I’m setting. This is not about me. It’s about you feeling fucking great in whatever I make for you.

But it’s been really difficult for me to find models above a certain size, and I don’t think it’s because we don’t have women like that. Such women shy away from that industry because they’re often told that they’re not the ideal of beauty. There are cultures that find only thin people attractive, but that’s not Nigerian. I’m currently on the lookout for bigger models.

THURSDAY

One of the most frustrating parts of my work is that the manufacturing industry in Nigeria doesn’t have a solid structure yet. Countries like India, Indonesia, Morocco and Mexico, all have long histories of artisanship that have been vetted and worked with other countries. There are whole brands, American and British, that go to places like India to mass-manufacture. These countries already have legacy systems in place for everything. We don’t have that yet in Nigeria; we don’t have working production systems, so it’s difficult to get things done.

So I find myself having to build everything from the ground. It’s gruelling, but it’s me that chose this life.

Because of this, problems come up all the time in manufacturing. For instance, I only work with 100% Nigerian cotton, like Funtua. Funtua is not the kind of thing I can just go to the market in Lagos and buy because I manufacture in such large quantities, so I buy thousands of yards at a time. I get it from Kano. And now, there are problems like insecurity and terrorism plaguing that area, so these materials are becoming increasingly difficult to get.

My suppliers can just increase their prices in a blink of an eye because of all the inflation and uncertainty. Imagine how much this affects my estimates and budgets. Things like this affect production and delivery to customers. I’m not really good with sloppy work, and my perfectionist self has to deal with all these variables. It’s so tiring.

FRIDAY

Today, I received satisfactory feedback from a client. It’s the best thing in the world for me. I love that twinkle in their eyes when they try something on and go, “I look fabulous”. Especially the robes, as they tend to have a kind of decadent feel so every time someone puts them on, I can see their demeanour change. They take on this kind of rich aunty or uncle vibes, and I’m just like, “I’m here for it!”

Seeing people love something I made, after all the labour, brings me unspeakable joy. It’s especially fulfilling because my designs don’t always translate properly to print. So when we finally get it right and people fuck with it, that “oh, I made a beautiful thing” feeling washes over me.

SATURDAY

I went to Ibadan with my team today. I’ve always had this fascination with the city. As a child, one of my many ambitions was to study Yoruba and teach at the University of Ibadan (UI). Ibadan is one of those cities where the myth of it is so rich and so closely tied to what it means to be Yoruba. It has hills and red sand, a rustic feel and a certain kind of magic you can’t find in Lagos. Ife is another such city.

The last time I visited Ibadan, I knew I wanted to shoot a campaign there. So when we got into Ibadan today by train, we went straight to Amala Skye in Bodija to get our amala fix. Mehn, I ate the best ogunfe I’ve ever had. Then, we lodged at the International Institute of Tropical Agriculture (IITA) at Moniya.

I’m excited about this campaign because I’m working with an all-women team. I love when I get to work with women. The energy is always different. I like working with men too, but working with a bunch of creative women in the same room? The energy is kind of magnetic and beautiful. We’ll continue shooting in choice locations around the city for the next few days, and I can’t wait for all the beauty that’ll come out of this project.

READ ALSO: A Week in the Life of an Instagram Thrift Vendor

Check back every Tuesday by 9 a.m. for more “A Week in the Life” goodness, and if you would like to be featured or you know anyone who fits the profile, fill out this form.

Yes, interview me!

Ama Udofa

June 7, 2022

A Week in the Life, Hustle

a week in the life, Home decor, Textile Designer
A Week in the Life is a weekly Zikoko series that explores the working-class struggles and victories of Nigerians. It captures the very spirit of what it means to hustle in Nigeria and puts you in the shoes of the subject for a week.

The subject of today’s A Week in the Life is a massage therapist. He tells us about the stereotypes that plague his hustle, how he deals with sexual assault but why he loves what he does anyway.

MONDAY

I don’t have a schedule because every day is different and I work Sunday to Sunday. Sometimes, I wake up at 4 a.m., sometimes, at 5 or 6 a.m. If the previous day was very busy, I may even wake up by 9 a.m. Like today.

My schedule is very tight and it gets overwhelming pretty quickly. Yesterday, I worked till I was sore, so I needed to rest well. When I wake up at 9 a.m. today, the first thing I do is to pray. After prayers, I check my phone because nine out of ten times, prospective clients DM me on social media. They prefer to text than to call, so before I prepare for the day, I make sure I catch up on messages.

I’m a freelancer, but I’m associated with spas in town. I pay these spas a percentage of my earnings per session. This is how booking works: People text me to introduce themselves and check if I’m available. While discussing with a prospective client, I reach out to the nearest spa to find out if the requested time slot is free. If it’s not, I have to work with the client and the spa to find a more suitable time.

Sometimes, people want private service in their homes, hotel rooms, offices, lounge, et cetera. These sessions cost more than spa sessions because of logistics — I have to transport my mobile massage kit to their location, and it takes more time to move to and from their location than if they come to the spa.

There are a few terms and conditions clients have to agree to before the booking is confirmed. One, the payment. Two, they must be available at the time slot they’re booking. And three, if they want to cancel, they need to reschedule or cancel at least three hours before the time. Advance payments are non-refundable.

I charge from ₦20k upwards for spa sessions, while private service fees start from ₦30k depending on the duration of the massage and the distance.

I always leave for the spa at least one hour before an appointment so I can relax and get set before the client comes in for their massage. If it’s a first-timer, I explain the procedure and walk them through the process so they can be relaxed. I also ask them if they have any allergies.

When we’re ready, I get them to dress down to their comfort level; a professional massage therapist does not use the term “undress” or “naked” because the profession itself is already oversexualised. I show them to the bathroom and leave the room so they can get ready. By the time I return, they should have laid face-down on the table.

TUESDAY

I have two appointments today: a spa session and a private session at 12 p.m and 4 p.m. respectively. The client at the spa is a man who needs a deep tissue massage, while the 4 p.m. is a woman who needs a Swedish massage at her apartment in Wuse.

Swedish is the mildest kind of massage that involves long strokes in a therapeutic manner, while deep tissue massages require slow, deep strokes with a lot more pressure. For carrier oils, my favourite oil to use is almond oil, but it’s very expensive. I also use mustard seed oil and coconut oil. For essential oils, I use lavender or mint oil. Essential oils are very potent and should be used in tiny quantities, only a few drops at a time. They need carrier oils to dilute them. If I have a handful of coconut oil, for example, I only need a drop of essential oil.

In my experience, women ask for Swedish massage more while men are more likely to request deep tissue. It could be that men’s skins are tougher and they like to feel more pressure. Only one man has ever asked me for a Swedish massage.

I also offer hot stone massages, pre and post-natal massages, head massages, feet massages, reflexology and aromatherapy, but Swedish and deep tissue are the most requested.

Just as I’m about to close for the day at 6 p.m., a lady DMs me on Instagram to ask if I can come to massage her in her apartment in Kubwa. I could use the extra cash, but Kubwa is far from where I live (in Jikwoyi). I’m very tired, so I ask her to reschedule for the next day. I’m pretty flexible with my job, but I try not to be too available because massaging people takes a lot of concentration and effort. If I don’t rest, I’ll burn out very fast.

WEDNESDAY

When people hear I’m a massage therapist, they automatically think I’m a sex worker. People ask me all the time whether I offer “happy endings”. I don’t.

I’ve been called a prostitute or porn star several times. We live in a society where a lot of things are sexualised; we give a sexual connotation to many things. Also, many people had their first encounter with massages from porn. So there’s a mindset that that is how we massage therapists behave exactly as they are portrayed in porn.

A big part of my job is trying to help people unlearn such stereotypes and see the benefits of massage. My job is to help people relax, offer relief to aching muscles, and generally, make people feel better. There’s an art and science to being a massage therapist.

Unfortunately, sexual harassment and assault are common occupational hazards. While massaging today’s client, she grabbed my crotch and was surprised that I wasn’t hard. According to her, she was good looking, so why didn’t I have an erection?

I told her, “Madam, I’m only doing my job. You’re paying me for a service. I don’t know you from Adam, so why would I want to risk my image, name and freedom to do something stupid?”

Being a massage therapist is a very sensitive job. The fact that someone can pay and trust me enough to put themselves in a vulnerable state means a lot to me. It involves a high level of trust, and I can’t take advantage of that.

Also, one bad review can ruin my reputation. Navigating incidences like this is very dicey, so I always try to keep it as professional as possible. Even mere gossip can ruin me. Nobody likes to be harassed, that’s why I’m always on my guard. The way I see it, I’m a soldier. What soldier goes to war without being prepared? I cleared the woman and told her not to try it again.

THURSDAY

I massage all genders, but the majority of my clients are women. Unfortunately, I also get to meet homophobic people. Someone might say, “A man touching me doesn’t feel right”, and then, request a female massage therapist. I’ve also had heterosexual men request a male massage therapist. Either way, I’ve learnt to respect people’s choices and only go where they sent me work.

There are body parts I never touch. I don’t touch men’s genitals. I only offer breast and yoni massages — “Yoni” means vulva — to a very select pool of clients. And it depends on my intuition. For example, if a 21-year-old lady asked for a yoni massage, I’d say no.

Today, I massaged three clients, two men and one woman, all at the spa. By the time I got back home, I was too tired to even eat, so I just slept off.

FRIDAY

While I was waiting for my 10 a.m. client today, I started reflecting on my career. I’ve been a massage therapist since 2017 even though it’s not something I expected to be. I studied mass communication and was a journalist for a bit after graduation. But in 2015, during a trip to Abuja, I had a five-star stay at a hotel with complimentary spa treatment, and my life changed. For the next two years, I learnt massage therapy on the side.

I didn’t exactly like my job and the workplace, and I’d been planning to leave anyway. After I left the job in 2017, things became very tight for me, but one day, a friend whose feet I used to massage, suggested I do it full-time. She referred me to a physiotherapist who trained me professionally.

In 2018, I got loans from friends, bought a massage bed. I was using a Blackberry previously and it was very limited. So I bought an android phone as well. Then I dived into massage therapy full-time and started building my practice. In 2022, I’m well on my way to fulfillment.

Nothing satisfies me more than people expressing gratitude after I’ve massaged them. It’s one thing for people to pay for a service, but it hits different when people are so grateful that they pay me nicely and refer me to new clients. The day a celebrity client paid me 100k for a one-hour massage session, I couldn’t contain my excitement. I also got a tip!

There’s nothing I love more than seeing people feel better. Massage therapy helps fight depression and insomnia, encourages stress relief and boosts the immune system. The best compliment anyone can give me is to tell me they feel lighter and better after a massage session. When I see a client snoring on my massage table, it means I’ve finished work.

My ideal future would be to own a spa, get an international certification and travel around the world.

ALSO READ: “Abuja Big Boys Are the Worst” — A Week in the Life of a Nightlife Content Creator

Hi, I’m Ama Udofa and I write the A Week in the Life series every Tuesday at 9 a.m. If you’d like to be featured on the series, or you know anyone interesting who fits the profile, fill out this form.

Yes, interview me!

Ama Udofa

May 31, 2022

A Week in the Life, Hustle

massage oils, Massage therapist
A Week in the Life is a weekly Zikoko series that explores the working-class struggles and victories of Nigerians. It captures the very spirit of what it means to hustle in Nigeria and puts you in the shoes of the subject for a week.

The subject of today’s A Week in the Life is Efe Edosio, a video producer. His work involves planning, implementing and supervising all of the elements of a video project. He tells me about having to dial back on his creativity with difficult clients and what it’ll take to get him to 10/10 career satisfaction score.

MONDAY

Mondays are pretty chill for me. I wake up at 9 a.m., and I’m glad I don’t have to get up and go. I even call my friends who have nine-to-fives and remind them that I’m at home while they’re at work.

But I do have to work. I like to describe myself as a visual storyteller with a focus on video content. My Mondays are for admin work. I have meetings scheduled with my editors from 10 a.m. till noon. In these meetings, we set the tone of work for the week. We assess the videos that were shot over the previous week and decide on things like post-production processes and delivery timelines.

I’m a freelancer who has built a network of clientele, so I get all my gigs from referrals. This means I also have to report to clients and stakeholders directly. After the editorial meeting, I meet with clients and go over the projects with the information from the discussion with my editors.

Today, I finished all my meetings at 1 p.m. and was free for the rest of the day. Last week was really stressful, and I’d spent the weekend working. Since I was free, I decided I needed a real break, so I went to Landmark beach and relaxed for a couple of hours, taking in the sights and de-stressing.

By 6 p.m., I booked a cab and headed home, but the two-hour traffic from VI to Iwaya almost destroyed all the relaxation I’d gained during my time-out. Still, I managed to get home in high spirits. I cooked myself dinner, watched a movie and went to bed.

TUESDAY

The hardest part of my job is having to cut down on my creativity just to meet clients’ expectations.

As a creative video producer, here’s what happens when I’m in talks with clients. I’m building up the story and the angle I believe is the best way to tell the story that the client wants to be told. My creative juices are pumping, and I’m excited about the project. Then the client comes in and is like, “Noooo. We don’t like this angle. Can you do it like this?”

Having to bend my creativity to suit clients is usually hard, but the client is king, and I have to find that point where my creativity and the client’s expectations complement each other. That way, I’m delivering what they want in the most creative way possible. But some clients are indecisive and keep changing things. Like today.

The client had agreed with my ideas and direction, and we had gone into pre-production on their ad. Midway through shooting, one of the founders came on set and said, “Yeah, I don’t think this should be like this. I don’t think this’ll work.” And in my head, I was like, “What the hell?” This is something we’d already agreed on with his team. We were all on the same page, so where’s all this coming from? I was in the middle of doing what they wanted.

A lot of people underrate how much work is done, and how expensive it is to produce a professional video. People also think shooting is the main work, but that’s not true; a lot of work is done during pre-production before we even bring out our cameras.

But you can’t blow up on your client. I was like, “You know what? Hold on.” I called their team’s liaison who was on set and said, “So, can you run through the plans for us again?” Because the founder’s complaints would have cancelled all the work we’d done already. Some clients do that and don’t want to pay extra, so in this job, patience is really a virtue.

I eventually sorted things out by going over the initial plan again with the liaison and explaining why the story was being told that way to the co-founder.

WEDNESDAY

During break on set today, I let my mind drift. Last year, I’d seen stories of a child named Ferdinard, who turned out to be a chess genius after being discovered by the Chess in Slums project. I pitched the idea for a documentary and the organisation agreed.

Everybody knows Makoko is a slum, but being in the middle of it is a completely different experience. With documentaries, you get the chance to plan things out, but for the most part, you have to go with the flow and follow the story.

While in Makoko, I was holding onto my equipment while trying to film and stay afloat on a boat at the same time. I was scared AF. But in the end, it was a lot of fun because I got to tell the remarkable story of the boy genius and showcase these wonderful kids to the world. I had full creative control and was able to document the contrast between where these gifted kids came from and the places they were going. The documentary has been nominated for awards at film festivals and won Best Documentary at one of them.

THURSDAY

Today was interesting. I was in discussions with two very different prospective clients. I met the first totally by accident. I walked into their office like a regular customer, and while the business owner was convincing me to patronise her brand, she walked me through the brand story. That’s when it clicked. I liked what she was doing — it was fresh and unique — so I pitched a storytelling angle to her. She loved it and told me she wanted to create a visual story but she hadn’t quite found someone who understood her vision. By the time I walked out of her office, we had agreed to work together, and I know I’m going to enjoy the project.

But the second perspective client I met? Totally different story. The man underpriced me so badly that if I hadn’t had the encounter with the first lady, he would have ruined my day. I have never turned down a client so fast. People like them will stress your life.

FRIDAY

It’s the drive to document culture that gets me out of bed in the morning. I don’t have any side hustle. An ideal future will be one where I’m involved in the most compelling stories coming out from Africa. But right now, I’m content. I can’t think of anything else I’d be doing if I wasn’t visual storytelling.

After my meeting with one of my editors today, I wondered what I’d score if I were to rate my career on a scale of one to ten. But I didn’t have to think too long because I decided it’d be a solid eight. When I no longer have to worry about money, I’ll give myself a ten — along with a pat on the back.

By 6 p.m., it’s TGIF time. I’ll spend my weekend cooking, watching documentaries and movies and relaxing. I’ve earned it.

ALSO READ: The Nollywood Screenwriter Who Just Can’t Rest — A Week in the Life

Hi, I’m Ama Udofa and I write the A Week in the Life series every Tuesday at 9 a.m. If you’d like to be featured on the series, or you know anyone interesting who fits the profile, fill out this form.

Yes, I’d like to be featured!

Ama Udofa

May 24, 2022

A Week in the Life, Hustle

Chess in Slums, Difficult Clients, Makoko, storytelling, Video producer
A Week in the Life is a weekly Zikoko series that explores the working-class struggles of Nigerians. It captures the very spirit of what it means to hustle in Nigeria and puts you in the shoes of the subject for a week.

In this week’s A Week in the Life, I talked with a content creator who works in three Abuja nightclubs. She walked me through what it’s like to meet celebrities and “Abuja big boys”, fend off creepy men and deal with sexism in the nation’s capital, all in a week’s work. Find out below.

THURSDAY – FRIDAY

I create content for a network of nightclubs in Abuja, so I work Thursday to Saturday because that’s when the clubs are in full swing.

I work at night, but my body cannot sleep past 9 a.m. To keep myself busy in the morning, I focus on my side hustle where I work as a virtual assistant for an online shoe store in Lagos. Between 9 and 11 a.m., I take orders and respond to inquiries. Then I get up from bed and go through the morning motions: brush my teeth, bathe and make breakfast.

By midday, I prepare my outfit for the night, pack my makeup and accessories and head over to my friend’s place. My friend is also my coworker, so we hang out in the afternoon to trade ideas, banter and mentally prepare for the weekend.

By 8 p.m., we start getting ready properly. We take a long time to prepare, so we have to start early. When we’re done, we’ll go to a lounge and chill until 1 a.m. when clubbers start to party.

My job as a nightclub content creator is to document the night’s events and share them on social media. I take photos of all the exciting moments and post them on social media. Is an Abuja big boy spending money while his guys cheer him on? I capture it. Is anybody ordering Azul? I record the procession and create visual content around it for Instagram. I even catch the occasional fight and anything else that can get people talking, and distribute them across our social media channels.

I work with a network of three nightclubs in Abuja. The first club starts around 1 a.m. Then, I head over to the second club. The third one is where clubbers end their night.

Abuja nightlife is weird because people leave the club at daybreak, change their cars and go to work. My work is super-stressful because I barely get any sleep. I finish from the clubs around 6 a.m, and for some reason, I can’t sleep past 9 a.m. I try to make up for the lost sleep from next Monday to Wednesday night, but I’m surprised I haven’t broken down since I started this job in January 2022.

FRIDAY – SATURDAY

The best part of this job is also the worst. I meet a lot of well-connected people. The networking aspect of Abuja nightlife is fantastic; one conversation can change your life. All the celebrities, Abuja big boys and upper-middle-class folk I would have needed to jump through hoops and hurdles to see on a typical day? They’re in the club. My boss occasionally introduces me to someone important who could give me an opportunity to create content for them and get paid.

Since I network a lot, I also get harassed often. Abuja men are a special breed. They’re built different, mehn. They don’t let me breathe. There’s always some guy who wants to talk even when I’m not in the mood, and they say the nastiest, most unprintable things. Abuja men no dey carry eye see person. They’re touchy-feely and just assume that when they see a young girl in the club at night, they can take her home. Oga, I’m just here to do my job. Free me.

Let me not even get started about all the men who think I’m a runs girl.

Sometime this night, I was moving around and making videos when a man as old as my father walked up to me and told me, “Come home with me,” in a cold, authoritative voice, as if he put jazz in his mouth. I’ve never cringed so hard.

The other thing that stresses me out is all the alcohol I drink at the club. I’m already sick of it. Also, I’m a content creator, so my job requires that I’m always on my feet. All that standing and moving about wears me out at the end of every night. My heels are constantly in pain.

But the salary is cool cash, and the perks that come with the job balance things out.

SATURDAY – SUNDAY

I got into a fight today.

Usually, I stay at my boss’ table, but one of my friends was visiting the club, so I hung out with him. My coworker tagged along, only for one weird drunk guy to start harassing her, trying to get her to go home with him. He was touching her and saying nonsense like, “I will fuck you well-well.” I noticed his antics and switched seats with my friend, but this guy didn’t leave her alone. He went around me and continued harassing her. When she resisted, he poured his drink in her face, slapped her and started yelling and pulling her hair. I saw red. All I could think about was defending her, so I jumped on him and started fighting back.

My friend grabbed the drunk fool, picked up a bottle of Azul and was ready to break the stupid man’s head. But the bouncers held him back and started begging him.

After things calmed down, the bouncers wanted to throw me out, but my friend who owned the table defended me. He argued that I was an employee of the club and should be protected rather than thrown out. The bouncers often treat ladies badly and use the slightest excuse to punish us just for being women.

The club world in Abuja is very sexist. Most times, women aren’t even allowed into clubs unless they are with men. It’s so stupid because why can’t a woman want to chill on her own? The only thing that saved me from being thrown out of my own workplace was that my friend is an Abuja boy, the manager of another big club.

It made no sense, but these are the kinds of rubbish I have to deal with.

By the time I got home this fine Sunday morning, I was exhausted. All that was on my mind was that I didn’t want to keep doing this every day. I want to get to a point where I don’t have to go to the club three times a week. I would prefer to visit the club once a week, take photos and videos, post them and get paid.

I’m thankful that I don’t have to work until next Thursday. I’ll sleep as much as I can, do my virtual assistant side hustle and mentally prepare myself for next weekend’s work.

Editor’s note: names of people and places have been removed to protect the identity of the subject.

ALSO READ: “Nigerians Think They Know English” — A Week in the Life of an IELTS Tutor

Hi, I’m Ama Udofa and I write the A Week in the Life series every Tuesday at 9 a.m. If you’d like to be featured on the series, or you know anyone interesting who fits the profile, fill out this form.

Yes, I want to be featured

Ama Udofa

May 17, 2022

A Week in the Life, Hustle

abuja, Abuja nightlife, Content Creator, nightlife

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