The morning sun in Malete, Kwara State, barely touched the dusty roads before Ada unlocked the small glass door of Royal Brew Café. The café sat opposite a busy student lodge near the university area, always crowded with students looking for cheap coffee, shawarma, and a place to escape the heat. From the outside, it looked peaceful. Inside, it was anything but peaceful.
Ada had worked there for almost a year. At first, she thought it would be a good opportunity to earn money and gain experience while waiting for a better job. But slowly, the café became a place she dreaded waking up to every morning.
Her boss, Mrs. Ronke, believed fear was the best way to control workers. She shouted at employees in front of customers over the smallest mistakes. If a spoon was misplaced or an order delayed by two minutes, insults would fill the café.
“Are you blind?” she would yell. “Must I do everything myself?”
The customers would stare while Ada forced a smile, pretending she was fine.
The café had only four workers, yet they were expected to do everything — cleaning tables, washing dishes, serving customers, handling deliveries, and sometimes even buying supplies from the market under the scorching Malete sun. There were no proper shifts, no breaks, and no extra pay for overtime. Some days Ada closed by 11 p.m. and resumed again before 7 a.m.
Whenever any worker complained, Mrs. Ronke reminded them how difficult it was to find jobs in Kwara State.
“If you don’t like it, leave. Hundreds of people are outside looking for work,” she would say coldly.
The environment became more toxic when favoritism started growing among the staff. One worker, Tobi, was close to the manager and constantly escaped punishment. He arrived late, ignored customers, and dumped difficult tasks on others. Yet whenever Ada tried defending herself, she was labeled “disrespectful.”
Gossip also spread through the café like smoke. Workers whispered about one another during shifts, carrying stories back to the manager to avoid becoming targets themselves. Trust disappeared completely. Everyone worked in fear.
One rainy evening, after standing for nearly ten hours without eating properly, Ada mistakenly served the wrong drink to a customer. Mrs. Ronke slapped the tray from her hand, causing cups to crash loudly on the tiled floor.
“You are useless!” she screamed before everyone.
The café went silent.
Ada felt her chest tighten as customers watched her kneel to pick broken glass with trembling hands. At that moment, she realized the job was slowly destroying her confidence, peace, and mental health.
That night, as she walked through the wet streets of Malete back to her small hostel room, she finally admitted something to herself: not every workplace that pays salary is healthy to stay in. Sometimes, toxic work environments damage people quietly until they no longer recognize themselves.
