A few months ago, I needed a place to do my industrial training. After getting rejected a few times in my neighborhood, a colleague told me where he was doing he's and asked me to join them. That day, I dressed corporately in black pants and a blue chiffon long-sleeve shirt. After a few questions by a dark, average-height man, probably in his early 50s, I was asked to resume training immediately.
It was a medical laboratory, so I sat in the adjacent room watching patients stream into the reception.
“I want to do a Widal test,” said a lady as soon as she entered. She was chubby, with rings of flesh that made it difficult to differentiate her neck from her head. Her legs were beautiful, and her toes were neatly manicured.
“Good afternoon, ma. Please have a seat,” the receptionist said.
“Widal test is 2000 naira, ma,” he added, then took out a piece of paper and handed it to her.
The woman collected the paper and stared at it. Then she looked at the receptionist and asked for the medical scientist. The young man gently told her that a scientist would attend to her immediately after she made her payment.
“I was told by my doctor to run a Widal test. Why am I seeing just typhoid on this paper? Did I tell you I have typhoid? And how can a Widal test be just 2000 naira?” she snapped, her face twisted in offense, caught between disbelief and irritation.
“Please call me the scientist,” she hissed and adjusted herself to sit more comfortably in the chair.
A few minutes later, the scientist came to explain to her that the Widal test isn't a wide range of tests; it’s just a specific test for typhoid. The reception was quiet for some minutes. Then I looked at the time, it was exactly 3 PM. I picked up my bag, informed the manager, and strode out.
My colleague joined me immediately, and we had a brief discussion on the road.
“You’ll have to come early tomorrow, before 7:30 AM, or else the director won’t sign your logbook, and that’ll affect you,” she said. She went on to tell me how strict the place was. I thanked her for everything she’d done for me so far, and we parted ways.
Along the street, I saw another laboratory. I had my application letter with me, so I went inside and met a young, fair lady. She introduced herself as Jewel and asked that I resume work the next day.
“I’m sure my boss will accept you,” she said.
By evening, I got an email from the director confirming my acceptance.
Since I was the only student there, I brought in four of my colleagues who were also in need of a place. There wasn’t much work as we rarely had clients on some days, and it was the kind of comfort I needed. This was also the reason Jewel's salary was small. She understood this and never complained, since she hardly made the amount of her salary in a month.
A month into my training, I noticed how unhappy Jewel had become.
“My salary is nothing to write home about. It doesn’t even feed me,” she said when I got close to her and asked.
Truth be told, I had been wondering how she coped. So I asked her what her plans were, even though I already knew what was in her head.
“I want to resign and make money online ", she said. I blinked in disbelief at what I just heard.
“Since you can make money online, don’t you think you can still do that while keeping this job? I mean, some days you just sit and do nothing. You’re not stressed here,” I said.
She gave it some thought and said it’s true, only that being in the comfort of her home would make her more productive.
“Okay. But how about you find another job before resigning? And make sure you give the director a month’s notice so she can find a replacement,” I said.
I forgot about our conversation until after five weeks. I noticed her frequent permissions and excuses to stay off work. She now came late and received only mild cautioning from the director. I knew the end was near, so I wasn’t surprised when the director told me she’d left.
Right from the first day I resumed training, I understood the situation of the place and imagined her leaving. Don’t get me wrong, I’m just an overthinker who imagines things before they even happen. I knew she would one day leave, and I would take over her responsibilities. That was why I advised her to give prior notice.
“Could you take her place for a while? I should be able to get someone else soon,” said my director. I nodded and told her I’m a fast learner.
I was able to fit into Jewel’s seat in a week, and everything went back to normal. But after about two months, I received a text from Jewel.
“Hi Cynthia! I haven’t gotten another job. Has the director found a replacement?”
“No,” I texted back. I didn’t want to say much to her, since she didn’t care to inform me she was resigning or even reply to the previous texts I sent her.
“Do you think she’ll forgive me if I come back? I’ll apply as a new person,” she said.
“I don’t know. You can just try your luck,” I replied.
The next day, Jewel came to plead for pardon.
“I’m sorry, ma. I don’t know what came over me,” she pleaded.
The middle-aged woman scrutinized her through her glasses.
“Jewel, I saw your application,” she said, scrolling her phone. “But I won’t take you back. I’m sorry.”
Jewel stood still for a long time. I saw her eyes turn red. When her eyes met mine, I nodded to assure her she would be fine.
She sat on the visitor’s chair, and I sat where she used to sit, on a soft executive chair that turned in any direction I wanted. I wasn’t doing anything, just like she used to sit when there was no client. When our eyes met again, she shifted closer and cleared her throat.
"You know, my best friend had promised me a receptionist job at a hotel with triple the pay. That was the reason I quit. I went for the interview, and was told to wait for a call. I waited for days, weeks, then months. No single call from them. I realised I should have waited until I got the job," she said.
"I'm so sorry about that," I said.
A bird in hand, they say, is better than two in the bush. With the power of hindsight, Jewel realized she shouldn’t have left the job without securing another.
I felt bad seeing her that way, but that feeling quietly gave way to a strange sense of fulfillment when the director told me I’d start receiving a salary, just as I had imagined a few months ago.
