Must Read: As Deep As The Sea

Episode 7 years ago

Must Read: As Deep As The Sea

On the 15th of September,
Promise stepped into TL
Communications company at
Lekki.



She approached the Front
Desk Officers, two ladies and
a guy, clad in navy blue suits.



She greeted them and asked
how to get to the Public
Relations office. One of the
ladies directed her to the
third floor.



She located the elevator and
joined the group of people
waiting to get in. On the third
floor, she scanned the
hallway and found a brown
door labeled ‘Public Relations
Office’. She knocked and went
in.



She found herself in a large
room with five cubicles to her
left, an enclosed office in the
middle and a seating area
which was already occupied,
to her right. Eight pairs of
eyes stared back at her. She
approached them, greeted
and took the vacant seat.



Nobody responded, except
the creamy brown skinned
guy sitting opposite her.
The door of the enclosed
office swung open and a light
skinned tall and plump woman
walked out.
“Good morning everybody. I
am Miss. Vivian Njemanze,
the Public Relations Manager.”
They stood up and chorused,
“Good morning ma.”
Promise swallowed the
laughter bubbling within her.



The way they greeted the
manager, it was similar to the
way school pupils welcomed
their class teacher.



She took a good look at the
woman and calculated her
age, summing it to around
early forties. Why wasn’t her
boss married? She introduced
herself with the title ‘Miss.’ It
could be that she was
separated, divorced or
worse, widowed. She wouldn’t
be surprised if the woman’s
career had a whole lot to do
with her present marital
status.




‘All these career women,’ she
thought.
“You are my new team
members. Your predecessors
have been posted to different
branches of the company
worldwide. If you are as hard
working and committed as
they were, you will excel in
this company. Your daily and
weekly assignments are
posted on that notice board,”
she pointed to her left and
their intent gazes followed
the direction her finger was
pointing at.




A large board was nailed to
the wall. It was divided into
five columns, each person
had their names written boldly
in black on a column and it
was covered with several
pinned documents.




Promise searched and found
her name. It was on the
second column. The volume of
white sheets pinned to it
made her to swallow her
spittle.
“Please endeavour to check
the board daily. You do not
have any excuse whatsoever
to resume work late. I don’t
care where you live. I don’t
tolerate truancy, that will
earn you a suspension and
you can lose your job in the
process.
“If you work with me in
obedience and loyalty, you
will rise to an envied height,
but if you disobey my rules
and instructions, if you
neglect your work and play
smart, I will make your days
in this company a living hell.




Welcome to TL
Communications company,”
she turned around and
returned to her office. The
‘click’ sound of her high
heeled shoes echoed through
the white walls.
“Wow!” One of the men in the
room exclaimed. He dabbed at
the beads of sweat on his
dark forehead with his white
handkerchief, “Now I know
why she is called Margaret
Thatcher.”
The taller man with creamy
brown skin chuckled and
shook hands with him, “I am
Boma Etuk.”
“Oyetunde Badmus.”
Promise watched them and
smiled. Men would always best
ladies when it came to
mingling. She noticed that
Oyetunde was the shortest of
them all. He was about five
feet six inches, with a
protruding pot belly that gave
his grey coloured suit a
gawky look.




Her curious eyes found the
taller man. He was the tallest
of them all, about five feet
ten inches, with a creamy
brown complexion. He was
easy on the eyes, but she
had always preferred fairer
men.



He looked her way and caught
her staring at him. His dark
brown eyes softened and
seemed to glitter, drawing her
in, like nails to magnet.



Oyetunde cleared his throat
and approached her.
“I am Oyetunde Badmus.”
She tore her eyes away from
Boma and shook hanks with
him.
“I am Promise Daodu.”
“It is nice meeting you,” he
grinned.




“Same here,” she forced a
smile.



Boma walked up to them and
shook hands with her.
“Boma Etuk.”
Their gazes locked again. She
looked away. She couldn’t
fathom why she was drawn to
him. He wasn’t her type and
she was yet to recover from
her broken relationship with
Gbenga.
“Can we meet you?” Oyetunde
addressed the other two
ladies who had already picked
out cubicles next to each
other.
“Adaeze Chukwuemeka,” one
of them waved.
“Kemisola Tijani,” the other
chimed.


Promise strode over to the
board and checked out the
documents attached to her
name. Boma and Oyetunde
joined her.
“Margaret Thatcher is out to
kill us,” Oyetunde lamented.
She ignored him. She was
beginning to see him as
someone who complained a
lot. Boma remained mum. His
eyes were fixed on his
column.
“Look at our list of
assignments. We have less
than a week to see them
done.”
“Then you better get
started,” Boma unpinned the
documents attached to his
column and strode off …