I want to always blame the devil for my wrongs, for his cunningness. You know, whenever the devil wants to send you in a mission, he blocks your memory to make you forget important details. Like he makes you see no downsides to your plan.
Growing up, I was always looking for ways to make money. Independent woman things. Besides, mama Ayo's snacks and food at the school canteen cannot buy themselves. That was why I was always striving to make money, even if it meant helping my parents keep their monies carefully.
Even though my parents always found ways to shut down my businesses, I would always find a way to start up another. A true businesswoman I was.
It wasn't surprising that I always only managed to attract fellow business-minded people. You know that saying about birds of a feather, right? Yes!
One day after school, I think I was in basic three then, my friend, Favour, told me that she had developed a blueprint to make fast money.
Knowing me, I coul never turn down any idea that would bring money so i asked her what it was.
She told me that she tells her parents that we were asked at school to bring money for photosynthesis and respiratory agriculture and they gave her. The idea was dope.
My parents are not very educated so I thought it would pose no problem and so I decided to start my own branch.
I gave it two days, then one evening, as soon as my father came home from work, I told him we were asked to bring money for monocotyledon and dicotyledon. He ased how much and I said the two of them cost six hundred naira. I completely forgot that my parents were good friends with my form mistress. Now you see the handiwork of the devil, right?
Then my dad asked me to go bring his workbag for him. Without suspecting anything, I went on the errand. My heart was throwing a party and my mind was already thinking of how I was going to spend my money the next day; buy peanut, coke, chocomilo, I was going to even take my crush shopping. I even thought of how I'd get apprentices and be answering "madam CEO"
When I handed the bag to my dad, I stretched my hands towards him, waiting for the money to hit me. Next thing, this man got out his phone and dialled my firm mistress. I instantly started sweating.
He asked her why we were told to bring money for something he could not pronounce. He went on to ask why young kids like me be studying something so complex.
My form mistress now asked him to give the phone to me.
It was that day I discovered that I identify as a stammerer, because, I could not get a word out.
After I gave my dad hia phone back, I quietly went outside to cut my preferred size of bitterleaf stick for him without him sending me because I knew my business was dead on arrival.
That evening, that man delivered me of every ounce of upcoming CEO. After that day, I promised myself to focus on becoming a doctor even though I should be doing business.
See me now, if that man had let me flourish in my business, maybe by now, I'd have bought Jupiter for him. Maybe I'd be in Forbes list. Till date, if you talk business around me, i get PTSD.
Tsk!
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