Pressed in an interview.

What’s your name? Segun Bamidele, i answered politely. I had a smile, a charismatic look and a face that bestowed confidence. This was not my first interview, so there was not a single flinch of fright in me. I had, however, struggled so hard to seek a job, as the recession had thrown jabs at me and i was too blinded to see it coming.It was already 2 months after collecting my NYSC certificate and “omo“, my bank account echoed of emptiness. 

The stern young lady in her skirt suit and an old fashioned glasses looked straight into my eyes. I wondered what ran through her mind. Was she amazed at my boisterous attitude or was she vexed by it, i couldn’t tell. A series of more questions followed, and i gave my answers spontaneously.

“Okay, tell us why you need this job”? she said, without looking at my face. Her eyes were glued  to a book and she was writing what seemed to be an assessment of my interview.

Just as i was about to speak , my body took a new turn, my stomach seemed to be doing the answering as noises i did not understand muttered from within. My face became sweaty and my lips were locked.

What could be happening to me….Why the sudden change of homeostasis? While my brain was trying to figure out the reason for my body transformation, her voice came again, “i’m waiting”. I ignored her, as i was engaged in my thoughts… Yes,  yes it must have been that 2 day old beans i had eaten the night before.

Now, i had to maintain my prowess and tried to cover up my little drift of character with a fake smile. “Because i have the valuable skills this company needs and i am willing to serve this company in the best of my ability. i  could bring ………….

This was now a serious case, “see gobe” i said to myself.

My body chemistry didn’t seem to balance and the only ideal gas equation, was now an ideal gas situation. Fart wanted to burst its way out of me, like a newly launched missile and my body language was not one i could comprehend.  The voices from my stomach was louder now, and what seemed to be a war, was going on within me. These fighting soldiers inside me wanted a way out and it was like they were banging the door of  my butt.

The sweat was now dripping profusely and i could bare the pretense no longer. I jumped up from the chair and hastingly jilted to the door.

I found an “Okada man” and begged him to speedily take me home. The bike man was but it seemed too slow. Finally i reached home and paid the man hurriedly. I overpaid but didn’t care as i couldn’t hold my patience enough for change.

Like Usain, i bolted my way to the john. Finally found inner peace when i opened the inner door gracefully and let the inner soldiers out. They came out with bombs of all sounds and greenades.

Phew, finally… a sigh of relief. Now my body chemistry was finally balancing, with a few ideal gases released. “Effervescence” i guess.

My mind raced back to the interview, sadness gripped me once again, “Did i just loose a major job opportunity”? i asked myself…. “i guess the hustle continues.



Justin C Ifeanyichukwu also known as Eastcoastprince or ECP is a Nigerian blogger, writer and digital media strategist. He holds a bachelor’s degree in Microbiology Technology from the University Of Port Harcourt, Nigeria. He is the founder and Chief executive officer of the viral content website “Storyteller Nigeria”.

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