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Some Nigerian civil servants are the embodiment of wickedness. Yes, we understand that Nigeria is hard and there is no joy in the land. But that is not an excuse to display full-blown wickedness. If you are looking for ways to identify a wicked Nigerian civil servant, here are the signs:
1. They have any of these turbans.
Just as we have “Helmet of salvation”, this is the “Turban of wickedness.” Once you see it on their head, start praying for divine favour.
2. They usually like amala.
This is what they eat while they tell you to wait for oga who will end up not being on seat. Sometimes, while you are waiting for oga, they can even send you to go and buy the amala for them: three wraps of black amala, ewedu and gbegiri, with two meat, one ponmo. Ask them if they have shaki. I
3. This is their kind of cooler.
If they don’t have amala in it, then it’s rice and egusi soup. While you are waiting, they will spread it on the table and eat while chatting non-stop with their colleagues.
4. The women own at least one pair of shoe that looks like this.
It’s always the kitten heels. Not something else. The men’s shoes are really ugly, let’s be honest. But that doesn’t even matter. They usually keep dunlop slippers by their table. Once they enter the office, they remove the shoes and put on the slippers. Immediately you see them in slippers, just prepare for wickedness.
5. They like gossip.
Forget whatever they graduated from school with, civil servants have a doctorate degree in gossip. Cho-cho-cho is what they majored in. God help you to point out that they have not answered you since morning, then you will experience the full range of their wickedness.
6. They don’t like staying where they put them.
You think it’s only Oga that is not on seat in a government office? Even the civil servants are not on seat too. The only difference is that the wicked ones will tell you to sit down and will go ahead to gist with other people to the point where they forget you are on seat.
7. They have this suit.
If the glasses is added too, omo just forget it. You are about to experience real wickedness.
Every week, Zikoko seeks to understand how people move the Naira in and out of their lives. Some stories will be struggle-ish, others will be bougie. All the time, it’ll be revealing.
When you rewind to the very very beginning, what’s your oldest memory of money?
It’s definitely collecting Salah money at my grandparents’ house. Some people would willingly give me, and I’d tax some others.
Do you remember the first thing you ever did for money?
Does washing snails for my aunty count? Anyway, I started working at my school’s radio station at the university.
Was it really money if they gave a ₦2,500 stipend for 30 days worth of work?
What year was it, and do you remember how that felt?
This was 2011 or something. I was annoyed because we were doing all the work: news gathering, vox pop. We’ll embarrass ourselves on the roads of campus for ₦2,500.
No vex. Did you do anything else after that?
There was this radio show I started that was kind of a big deal. It was airing across about four radio stations. I loved the show, and we were waiting for sponsors. When we eventually got some sponsors, I never saw the money.
My NYSC year and the year after was the period of not knowing if I was going to get a job or not because my result wasn’t great. I started a postgraduate diploma, then I got this job at some accounting firm. The pay was ₦50k, but they owe me to date.
Those years of drought, what was it like?
I live with my parents, so I don’t pay rent or worry about food. My family is very close, so even when it came to things like hair, makeup and clothing, my aunties were spoiling me to a large extent. There used to be a lot of “Don’t worry, you’ll get a job.” Also, my dad gave me pocket money.
My feminism will collapse when I say this, but I’m a girl — when I want to socialise, I only have to worry about transporting myself there. I don’t necessarily concern myself with what I’ll do there.
In all, the real struggle was my mum. We’d get into these fights because she thinks — wait, not think, she is an African mother — she knows that she can tell me what to do. I didn’t have a say in stuff at all. I’d have to ask for her permission before going anywhere and make sure that it worked with her schedule because I was her part-time maid.
Then my friends started getting jobs, and things got awkward. If they invited me anywhere, I told them I couldn’t afford to be there. Then they start offering to pay for me, which would annoy me. But they were just being good friends. It was a sad time because I felt I had no say in the direction of my life.
I eventually got a job at the end of 2016 in the civil service.
That social anxiety that money causes. What’s a particular episode you can’t forget?
My cousins live abroad. There was a time they came back home when I wasn’t working yet. Whether they’re high or low earners, people from America have a strong disrespect for the cost of things in Nigeria because they earn in dollars.
One evening we were hanging out, there was something we wanted to buy; pepper soup and nkwobi. At ₦3k, it felt too expensive and didn’t make sense to me. Especially since I could get it for ₦500 elsewhere.
Anyway, my cousin was like, “₦3k? That’s so nice. That’s so cool.” And while I was still ranting about the price, they were like, “Oh, we’ll get yours.”
If I was a crying person, I’d have excused myself to go and cry. I felt very bad.
I feel you. Back to you joining the civil service?
I joined December 2016, and my starting net salary was ₦74k — after deductions for pensions and housing (that you never get). I work in the Public Relations and Information Unit at my ministry.
Interesting. How has your salary grown over the years?
I started at level 7, step 4. Every year, you go up one step. Every step is an extra ₦1k to your salary. Some steps can be ₦2k or up to ₦10k the higher you go. I got promoted to a new level this year in the middle of a pandemic. My salary officially became ₦96k since the middle of the year, but that raise hasn’t reflected in my bank account. I haven’t even been paid last month’s salary.
Ouch. I’m sorry. How do people think about salaries in the civil service?
Nobody talks about their salaries except new staff or young people. My boss told me recently that the reason young people like to talk about their salary is that we think we’re young and fresh, but that’s how they were too until they began to climb higher.
Sometimes, based on your job description, your salary might go up more than the people you entered civil service with, then you’ll become secretive.
What’s your current monthly spending breakdown like these days?
As soon as I started getting paid, I stopped asking for assistance from my family. I felt like there was a lot of see-finish happening, so I started squeezing to survive.
I always have small weird jobs that’d come in: I sometimes help my neighbour with research or assembling focus groups. Sometimes, there’d be some weird errand that someone would pay me ₦5k to ₦10k for. That money is for vanity because my actual salary goes to my monthly-running costs.
How has all of this has shaped your perspective on money?
I’m kind of responsible with money. I don’t spend money that I don’t have. Still, I have a very “If I die, I die” philosophy on money that isn’t for savings.
I also feel like not earning as much as my peers and still being reliant on my parents has drilled in that whole mindset of not wanting anything. Maybe because I can’t afford things, I’ve found a way to convince myself that, “Wo, it’s not really that important.”
Oya, with your full chest, what is something you really want but can’t afford?
There are these shoes that I saw once worth $3,000. They’re considered old school now but I don’t care. I’ve wanted them for three years. The second thing I want to do is live in another country. I like Nigeria, I want to be here, but I want to be able to leave whenever I want.
If I had like ₦40 million now, I’d buy a house or leave the country for good. I like Nigeria, but this country is going down the drain.
How much do you honestly feel like you should be earning at this point? And as a follow up, how much would be great right now?
Like ₦300k-₦350k. ₦250k would be nice.
When do you think you’ll retire? And what do you think about retirement?
I look forward to it. I’m not one of those people that think they’ll be so bored. I hear about billionaires that have hectic schedules, and I’m like, are you kidding?
I’ll love to be one of those people who retire at 40 and then have pet projects here and there because they have enough till they’re 90 or 100. I saw my retirement fund, and it’s not looking good. After four years of working, it’s like ₦600k. And the money is in naira, which is going down the drain. As it is, let’s just be looking at the retirement age of 60.
I’d like to retire early, but it’s not realistic. I don’t see it happening unless I leave this country.
Random, but what’s the last thing you paid for that required serious planning?
It’s two things, but they happened around the same time. I bought a washing machine for ₦80k. Then Asoebi for two weddings cost me ₦50k.
When was the last time you felt really broke?
Right now. They’ve not paid since November, and I already made plans for December expenses. So I’m living on fumes, and the thing I don’t want to do is ask my parents for money.
The cost of living in Lagos has increased by a thousand, so I’m not normal-broke. I’m Buhari-broke.
What’s something you wish you could be better at financially?
Making money. I need to be able to put value to effort. But the truth is, I’m not very business-minded, so I’m not sure how to start. I could never become a CEO, and if I do, it’d be because I have a lot of business people beside me doing the business stuff.
Also, I wish I understood investments more. I’m not making efforts to understand it because even if I did, I don’t have the funds.
Hmm. Do you have an emergency plan for stuff like emergencies?
If my savings fail to cut it, I have this plan that I can spell out to you: D-A-D-D-Y. The begging I’ve refused to do, I’ll beg.
The question is, what if it’s something that he’s unable to help with? He’s a comfortable man, but he’s not wealthy. So what if it’s something that he cannot cover? Omo.
Ah, that.
I don’t know what happens after that. I saw some tweet that said in Nigeria, we’re all one terrible illness away from poverty. I was like, “God forbid,” but if somebody in my family or I got really sick, we would be able to afford treatment based off of my dad and mum’s safety nets,, but I doubt we’d be able to for a long time.
I’ve also thought about the kidnapper joke: “If you kidnap me, don’t ask for too much else I’ll be stuck here with you.” It’s a common joke, but it’s a reality.
Is there something else you imagine you’d be doing if you weren’t working in the civil service?
That’s the thing. I joined the civil service because I didn’t know what I wanted to do, so I decided to stay somewhere and do whatever I’m asked to. I’m still figuring it out.
But then, what the hell am I figuring out? How long? Three years is long enough to figure out what I want to do. It’s not enough time to do it, but it’s enough time to know. I do not know.
On a scale of 1-10, how would you rate your financial happiness?
3. I need to earn better. I can speak a lot of English, but at the end of the day, money is all that matters.
What do the next few years look like for you?
I just finished my Masters, and right now, I just want a better paying job. The kicker is that I want a better-paying government job, and they exist. People say “oh don’t get stuck in government work.” But I feel like if we want this country to get better, we have to participate.
I feel like we’re the ones that will have to fix it, eventually.
Every week, Zikoko seeks to understand how people move the Naira in and out of their lives. Some stories will be struggle-ish, others will be bougie. All the time, it’ll be revealing.
Tell me about what it was like growing up.
I was born in ‘95 in Lagos. My dad was Director of Finance in a government agency at the time. He became DG in ‘99 when Obasanjo came into office. So life was really good. I had everything I needed growing up.
We, the smaller kids had a car and a driver attached to us, we mostly just needed permission from mumsy to go chilling.
Mad o. What level do you have to be to become a director?
Level 16 in most places. I think 1-3 have been eliminated. You come in at level 4 if your highest qualification is an SSCE and you max out at 7 unless you bring extra qualification. Degree holders start at 8, MSc holders at 9, PhD/ICAN at 10.
There’s 3 years between each level up until 14. There’s no level 11.
Why?
To be honest I don’t know. At GL 12, you’re a Principal Officer; at 13 a Chief; 14 you’re an Assistant Director; and 15, Deputy Director. You can still be a Deputy Director on 16 if there’s no vacancy in the organization.
Tell me about your mum.
She was a teacher before they moved to Lagos in ‘92. That was also the year my dad became Director. She stopped working since then. My dad died in the mid-2000s. She became a businesswoman afterwards; poultry farming, buying stuff from Dubai and reselling.
Sorry about your loss man. How was it for her?
She was devastated but had to worry about us. I remember when she started the poultry. We had just moved houses in ‘07. The farm was my dad’s but it had no structures. So she built the structures and put the chickens in it. It became huge in two years but we kept having issues with the farm manager. It was always chickens dying or the eggs not adding up.
Ah, farm managers and eggs.
Sha, she sold the farm in 2011 because she said she was running at loss for like 2 years. She got around ₦15m for it.
That was when she started trading fabrics from Dubai. That lasted for about three trips over like 2 years. Since then she hasn’t really been into any business, apart from a few catering contracts from senior government relatives here and there.
How’s she been getting by?
Rental properties. We all work apart from my younger brother, the last born – he’s in his third year – so we all chip in at the end of every month. We’re 7 kids; 4 of them are now married; 1 man, 3 women; and the remaining of us, 3 boys, are at home.
7 kids. Your mum raised 7 kids?
I swear down. Big ups to her.
I’m curious about your dad’s inheritance.
From what I can remember right now; a house and 3 plots of land in Abuja, a farm in Niger State, three houses and two plots in the Northwest. I loved snooping around since I was a kid and I can remember seeing cash figures of about 70 million before they divided it. We also got $100k death insurance. It was actually the airline that paid us – he died in a plane crash.
Eish. So sorry man. What were the first things that changed financially when your dad died?
No more pocket money obviously. Our cars went from 8 to 4 – official cars were returned. We could no longer sustain 24 hours light and only used the generator overnight. Along the line, we started turning it off at 11 pm.
We had to move houses and get a smaller one – I think it was because of maintenance. The initial house was a 7 bedroom with a study and 3 sitting rooms, huge boys quarters also. We moved to a 4 bedroom with boys quarters.
Two of my siblings got married, so we didn’t need that much space.
How did it change you, personally?
Devastating. I feel I was the closest to my dad and it wrecked me emotionally even at that age. I kept wishing it was me instead of him. Financially, I didn’t feel much of the difference because my mum made sure I had all I needed.
Obviously not sleeping with gen was annoying, not getting any money weekly when I was home from boarding school was tough too. But I was quite similar to a lot of my friends so I couldn’t really complain.
My dad used to buy a lot of gifts because he travelled a lot, all of that stopped.
I was in one African country in January to collect a posthumous award on his behalf and I couldn’t hold back the tears fam. I cried on like three different occasions.
*Hug*. Let’s digress, what’s the first thing you ever did for money?
NYSC; January ’17. I was an Office Assistant in the finance department of a government parastatal. It prepared me for getting retained. I now became an accountant in the budget section. While serving, I didn’t do much work and I felt like the whole place was just dead. But when I became a staff, my boss switched up on me and work became really serious.
Buhahahaha
I dey tell you. It’s a small parastatal that feels redundant but they have revenues topping ₦7 billion per annum since 2017, so there’s a lot of work in finance. Expenditure equaling revenue as well.
So basically, no profit?
The difference is usually less than ₦20 million.
Abeg wetin dey chop this 7 billion abeg? Abeg.
The largest expenditure for the agency is transportation. And that is at the heart of the agency.
Logistics is a crazy businessman.
It takes about ₦1.5 billion. Also, there are offices in every local government. Over 1,000 in total. So fueling of vehicles and weekend allowances.
Then there’s money for Ogas too; international travel gulps over ₦100 million. Local over ₦150 million, that’s for all staff sha.
So basically, the Ogas who make up probably less than 5% are spending more than the entire workforce.
More or less. A minister used to send some of his international travel bills too.
How does this even work?
The thing was crazy o. Sometimes, letterhead approval will just come from the ministry saying the conference or whatever they’re going to relates to our parastatal. And as such, we had to cover the cost.
OLUWA WETIN DEY HAPPEN?
Guy, hahaha. This Naija ehn. I saw things and I learnt a lot while there – I benefited also. I got to save enough money to buy a car. Although my mum had to give me money from my inheritance to complete it sha.
Hold up. Tell me what you learned, and of course what you benefited.
I learned how government accounting works. I learned how approvals are passed from Director-General to Director of Finance to Deputy Director and me or my colleagues.
Any kobo to be paid has to pass through about 4 or 5 offices. Directors’ approval limit was ₦2.1m I think and the DG was ₦4m if I can remember.
What were your expectations about the civil service, and what were your realities?
I expected a dysfunctional system without accountability. Civil servants were supposed to be the same, and couldn’t care less about their jobs. I came to find out that the civil service actually works. Also, what I mean by accountability is systems like the Treasury Single Account and some internal checks. Everything that has been done can be tracked, except you don’t go looking for it.
There is just so much redundancy. Selfish people want to cheat the system all the time. For example, the accounting model doesn’t allow for any payment to be made without checks and balances but everybody along the line is ‘settled’ and thus looks the other way. External auditors come and they’re automatically expecting the same treatment too.
Anybody that doesn’t tow this line is quickly turned against and a witch-hunt starts almost immediately; I saw this first hand with a senior member of staff. She became unwilling at some point to approve the multiple payments and she claimed to have something on all of the top management.
They swung into action to find something on her and they did. At that point my morality had been so affected too that I was against her, I’m probably just realising this now.
Fascinating, your realisation that is.
Well, what can I say? She was frustrating my boss and his boss and the way it was conditioned, I couldn’t help but support them. Disloyalty is rewarded with an immediate transfer.
There are people that still manage to go home with money that is clearly not their salary, where do those come from?
So many ways o. For the big bosses, most of their illegal money comes from inflated contracts and collecting kickbacks from contractors. A 2015 Prado for example, will be bought in 2018 for ₦75 million. A car that would most likely not have cost above ₦25m.
For that to be possible, the DG, Director of Finance, Head of Audit and Head of Procurement all have to be in on it. Then the money will trickle down to the lower boys, and that makes you complicit. And in a place that spends ₦7 billion a year, you can imagine the number of inflated contracts a year.
Then we had Duty Tour Allowance or estacode as the case may be. There’s already a budget before the start of the year stating the amount to be spent on local travels and international travels. The organisation makes sure every kobo is spent, no matter how frivolous the trip. In some cases, you don’t even need to travel, as long as your boss – usually a Director – signs off that you indeed were supposed to travel. You’ll be paid without stepping out of the office.
This has happened to my face countless times.
That is crazy.
If you have something important that needs to be passed, you’ll go office by office and drop something for the boys so your paper can be passed till it gets to the appropriate office.
During internal budget defense week, I got ₦30k just for being there.
“Thank you for coming” money?
Exactly. But we were about four in my grade range. I don’t even have any idea what my bosses would get.
Tell me about the first time this thing ever happened.
During NYSC, my boss asked to see me. I went to see him that day but couldn’t because he was so busy. The next morning, an elderly colleague asked if I had seen Oga, I told him no, he said: “Ehn Oga dey find you, you no wait for am, this boy you don’t know good things.”
When I went to see him, Oga gave me ₦20k just like that. I received this about 15 times during my 2-year stay at the agency.
Crazy. How did that make you feel?
I went to tell my colleague, a level 9 staff at the time. And he said, Oga gave everyone in the division.
“Is this frequent, what is it for?” He said Oga understands salary cannot be enough and because of his benevolent nature, he helps his boys out whenever something comes in.
I reflected on whether it was right or wrong for a while until I forgot about it.
That’s heavy.
I know for a fact that it is wrong and contributes to whatever rot we’re seeing in this country. But maybe I’m saying this because I’m not eating anymore. These things are extremely hard to stop when you’re a part of them.
I had a colleague who was a very devoted Christian. She came when I was there sometime within my first year. I told her how people get money and she told me that she’d never collect money whose source she has no clue about.
Then one time, our Oga gave her 20k, but she didn’t say anything. The next day, I asked her about the money, and she was like, “how did you know?” I told her, remember that time you said you’d never collect money whose source you don’t know?
Has there ever been anyone who’s gone into this system and completely resisted?
Not a single person I know of. It actually made me start thinking twice about my dad and all of my friends’ parents in govt. Everyone I spoke to always found a way to justify it. I always come to the conclusion that my dad was a good person in office. Bad people are usually discarded after death. My friends’ parents, if you see the balling they do, it’s hard to imagine a government official getting it legit.
What level did you start with, and what level are you in now?
8, officially started in December 2017. Left the agency and went to another one from April 19 to start afresh from 8 again. The transfer process is cumbersome. So I was advised to resign and take up a new appointment. So I’ll be due for promotion 2022.
It was quite disappointing, but I did start afresh.
I still want a career in govt though, somewhere that fits my interest and skills like the Central Bank, NSIA, NDIC etc.
I’ve always had an interest in governance and I would like to contribute my skills and ideas to improve this country.
Now’s the time to breakdown your monthly income. Every dime. Where does it go, where does it come from?.
Also, what do you spend your money on monthly?
Fuel: ₦20k
Eating out (office and otherwise): ₦25k
Data: ₦9k
Miscellaneous: ₦8k (Laundry, car repairs and other stuff)
Savings: ₦30k
Do you have a monthly savings target?
2019; ₦40k. 2020; ₦30k. I’ve not missed a naira. The pandemic has helped a lot though.
How much is in your savings chest?
About ₦1.4m, $1k and the rest naira. I’m scared of putting everything in one place. Even the $ are in different forms.
Do you have insurance, pension and all of that?
I have NHIS as my health insurance, doesn’t cover everything but it’s not bad. I have a pension as well. And it’s growing nicely, love checking it every quarter. I forgot to mention, I also receive roughly ₦200k every year from rent.
From your dad’s property?
My property now.
ENERGY.
Hahaha.
What’s something you really wish you could be better at?
Making money off intellectual property. Financial consulting so to say. That’s what led me to write feasibility studies.
How would you rate your happiness levels on a scale of 1-10?
4 TBH. Alhamdulillah for what I currently have but I feel like I should be earning roughly 220 net a month at this stage. I’m still far off from that.
I would have been earning the same but my promotion would have been due December this year so technically early next year.
What’s something you want right now, but can’t afford?
In the short term, a new car. Long term; a Masters’ from a school worth going to (Salford, LSE, INSEAD etc.). In the long run when I’m vying for a management position they definitely help. There’s also the fact that I want to learn from the best. I saw my dad’s CV and I found out he had 5 international appointments. I want something like that; being good enough to hold those positions and titles.
To get a better understanding of Nigerian life, we started a series called ‘Compatriots’, detailing the everyday life of the average Nigerian. As a bi-weekly column, a new installment will drop every other Tuesday of the month, exploring some other aspect of the Nigerian landscape.
In this, we checked in with a young Nigerian woman, currently navigating employment in Nigeria’s elderly civil service, and how personal reservations might not be enough to prevent her from slipping into the doldrums, characteristic of government service.
Illustration by Celia Jacobs
Before I started my job as a tier one officer of the federal government, there were three things I never compromised on: punctuality, efficiency and my zeal for self-improvement. These days, 6 months into my employ, you can catch me strolling into the office well past the 8am resumption deadline, freshly bought breakfast in hand; while signing in an arrival time of 7:45am regardless. I’m already counting down till 5 pm.
In the first two months of my employment, breakfast would have been followed with 30 scintillating minutes with the Most High and about 16 of my most zealous colleagues. What better way to begin the work day (one hour post- resumption) than with a well-attended morning fellowship? However, when one or two missed fellowships turned into stony “we missed you todays” and frosty stares from my co-workers, I abandoned communal worship for an early start to the Korean dramas that would keep me company throughout the day.
When you look at the Nigerian Civil Service, a practice like morning devotion or having junior colleagues serve as gofers isn’t exactly untoward, because it is run like one big Nigerian family. Its helm of affairs handled by individuals who vividly remember Nigeria’s struggle for independence, a high premium is placed on the most mundane things, like fawning over the boss upon his arrival (you’ve never seen arthritic joints move so fast!) or using the right title to address co-workers (‘mommy’ and ‘daddy’ is encouraged for junior workers relating with seniors). It’s almost hard to tell where the family meeting ends and the civil service begins.
What’s worse, this ‘family’ comes complete with its fair share of lecherous uncles. You know the ones. As the youngest member of my unit, I’ve had a sizeable amount of older (married) male colleagues, linger a little too long with eye contact and hand-holding, while inquiring how I’m settling in. Or giving downright uncomfortable shoulder rubs while asking if I’m faring okay with assigned tasks. The more brusque ones doggedly chase relationship possibilities and my availability to do so and so after office hours. All done with a flippancy so expert, you’d almost believe they were genuinely unaware of how inappropriate their actions ran. Except they do know, they all do.
Perhaps this familial leaning is also to be fingered for the hiring process favoured by the service. What is a qualification? Of what need is an impressive CV? You’d be hard-pressed to find any worker whose employment wasn’t courtesy some long leg or other. Till this day, I have no idea whether a mere application or an examination process is necessary to become employed by the Federal Government. Thanks to the good graces of a “connected” uncle, yours truly — a computer science graduate is somehow making things work as a glorified (and severely overpaid) administrative assistant.
I want to say I feel bad, contributing my quota to feeding Nigeria’s beast of a nepotism problem, but it’s hard to, when everyone from the tissue-supplier to the unit head, came in through a back door — it’s an accepted way of life here.
Perhaps as nature’s karma, I did get a temporary comeuppance. Placed in a department that simply had no vacancy or any real need for an additional worker, I was relegated to the very important role of simply observing the process and assisting the workers from time to time. It wasn’t until a colleague’s opportune maternity leave, three weeks after my employment, that I was given more responsibility to handle.
Now speaking of those three weeks, it was during this period I learnt two very important things in the service. One, they carry out transfers, a lot of them! Mostly arbitrary, but they can be punitive. You could be in Ogun State today and receive a transfer notice to resume work in Cross-River for next week. However, for women with the all-important ‘married’ title preceding their stations, there’s always the opportunity to refuse a transfer. But for men, married or no, likewise single people – no such luck.
The other thing I learnt was, the civil service is very much set in its ways. If you’ve ever visited a busy government office, you’d be hard pressed to miss the staggering amount of paper in use. From file contents, to internal memos and books for signing in customers and workers. It’s ridiculous.
Attempting to put my observation period to good use, I suggested in a carefully worded email to my unit head, simple ways electronic substitutes could save my department bales and bales of paper. This prompted a direction to print out the contents of the email (on more paper!) and an encouragement to keep up the good work. Last I saw of my plans, they had made the move from desk to a forgotten side-table to his left, gathering the very best servings of the day’s dust.
Ditto my attempt to organise the cavernous hell-hole that is my department’s filing room. When attempts to sort the first couple of files labeled ‘A’ in their right compartments were met with frequent disorganisation from my colleagues, I promptly developed a well-marketed allergy issue and my now problematic love-affair with Korean dramas, to fill up my idle hours.
Despite its shortcomings however, a job in the civil service is likely to remain a highly sought after affair. And it isn’t simply because its workers are prone to throwing professionally catered-to office birthday parties every other week (this really happens!). Or the fact that its salary package allows a way of life that gives a semblance of wealth — as my six-figure salary, complete with 13th-14th-month provisions, added bonuses and allowances have proven.
It’s all of that and a little more. Well, a lot more.
Remember I mentioned transfers being given as a punitive measure? This is sometimes meted out to workers who, using their station, fail to be discreet in cutting back- channel deals with customers. Note the keyword ‘discreet.’ It is a well-accepted way of life in government institutions, to cut deals in exchange for some special service rendered to members of the public. It even has its own name, but I’ll keep mum on that, I’ve been told different agencies have their specific terms for it.
These deals, with their propensity to make one’s monthly salary, from a mere week’s back-channeling, now serve as a driving force for aspiring workers and established employees alike. I’ve had NYSC workers ask me in confidence the best departments to work their entry into, simply on the basis of the best deals to get from their employ.
I’d like to say I’ve never participated in the act, but the service somehow makes you complicit in things you’d otherwise have no part of. I have received the occasional ₦5 000 – ₦ 10 000 in an envelope distributed to everyone in my 14-member department, courtesy a mega-deal struck by my department head, more times than I’d like to admit. I have even come to anticipate them.
However, I want to believe I’ll never actively seek these bribes out, there are limits I am not willing to cross. But then again, if you had told me I’d become a tardy, Korean-dramas-during- office-hours watching worker in just the first half of a year in my employ as a government worker, chances are, I’d have laughed in your face.
