I was fully aware that something wasn’t right the moment I woke up that morning. It was unlike me to wake up with heavy eyes, especially without any sunlight filtering through the curtains.
It was the day I had been anticipating. I had been waiting for months for this moment. The interview was done, and I had long imagined how I would read the email notification from the institution. I carried my phone, but before turning it on, I expected to see “Congratulations!” I was ready to scream and let my roommate know I had won something bigger than the lottery.
The role of technologist was one I had worked hard for all my life, and when I saw the institution was hiring, I was convinced my dream had finally come true.
Bauchi Masa
It was in Bauchi, Nigeria. The harmattan breeze was harsh, making breathing difficult. Without wasting any time, I brewed hot tea and had my breakfast while still waiting for the message I hadn’t seen.
Deep down, I was full of expectation, anxious at the same time. My roommate woke up from sleep and was surprised to see me already with my eyes fixed on my email inbox.
“If expectation is a disease, you should have contracted it a long time ago. This Federal Polytechnic has made you look helpless,” she said sarcastically.
At 10:43 a.m., I received an email notification that made my heart leap. I quickly picked up my phone, only to see it was from an online scholarship newsletter.
Soon after, a Facebook notification popped up from my mum, who had been following up from day one.
Mum: “Is there any news yet? Let me know once you are notified, my love.”
I smiled and replied, “Okay, mum. I will.”
It wasn’t until 3 p.m. that another email notification arrived, this time from the institution. My heartbeat quickened. I didn’t know what to expect.
The message wasn’t what I had been longing for. There was no explanation—just a cold, direct sentence:
“This is to inform you that you did not meet up with the job qualification.”
My body went cold, and my expectation silently dissolved.
My roommate, who had gone to the restroom, stepped back into the room.
“Has the message come?” she asked.
Without a word, I handed her my phone so she could read the email herself.
“I’m sorry it didn’t work out as expected,” she said gently. “But you have to brace up. The one that is yours can’t be taken away. Come out of this bad mood and plan for something better.”
Later in the evening, as the sun settled, we took a stroll and bought Masa from the woman selling it at the roadside. I made up my mind to let life continue. The pressure and disappointment were gone. The long bath I took afterward was a relief.
I no longer felt rejected; instead, I was ready to start again. I turned on my data and continued my job hunt with conviction. My expectation would one day turn into reality.
