So this morning, as usual, and just like my fellow Lagosians answering Sir/Ma to one inhumane employer, I woke up very early around 4. AM, observed my morning prayers, did a few push-ups, took my bath, ate, all within an hour, and was now fully ready to rush up to the bus stop, to this workplace, and to this job, I recently secured about two months ago, after about two years of being unemployed.

I dared not joke with the probation period of a job that pays 250k monthly in this country, where first-class graduates of chemistry are now excos at Iyanu-Ipaja and Oshodi Tricycle committees. So I practically did everything in my human capacity to impress and probably even over-impress my employers so they could not only retain me but probably even grant me a raise after the six-month probation period. To achieve this, of course, punctuality had to be a watchword, so I literally made sure I was up and rolling even before 4. am, so I could beat Lagos’ crazy traffic and also beat all my co-workers to time, or at least be one of the first three people to report to the company's rooster daily.

In fact, today I even overslept and woke up a bit behind my usual time, so I had to rush everything up. But unfortunately, after all the rushing, the worst happened: I reached out for my wallet, and it was empty! Empty! Like no single Kobo was in it.

Jesus! What kind of silly mistake did I make? I had crossed past several POS machine operators yesterday while returning from work and met several others when I had gone out last night to buy a bottle of stout with the previous 300 Naira on me. How in God’s name did I forget to restock my wallet?

Of course, there was no slightest probability that those lazy bunches of entitled POS girls around my street would be out by now, at 5. Definitely not possible. Not now, and not even in the next three hours. I’m practically sure those girls watch a complete season of an American movie before even thinking of trying to come to work. These same liabilities would open their gutter mouths to say, "I cannot marry a broke n! gga. Made man or nothing! Wereys.

At this point, I was vigorously searching the pockets of all my trousers and almost shattering all my room in search of at least 200 Naira for transport fare to my workplace, but instead of the money I was searching for, all I kept seeing were all these flyers I had been given by over-zealous members of Salvation Ministries and Winners, empty containers of Mentholatum, sachets of maltose, and other annoying items. As an ardent believer in self-respect and a fervent anti-see-finish advocate, the last thing I would ever do was knock on the door of any neighbor to say, Abeg, borrow me. God forbid! So I had to creatively devise this strategy that almost landed me in the mouth of a hungry wolf this morning.

So, brothers and sisters, that was how I carried my strategic penniless self to the junction, pennilessly halted an Oshodi bus, and confidently got into the bus pennilessly. I sat in the bus, and as the bus continued moving, I plugged in my earpiece and jammed to Nathaniel Bassy’s Tobechukwu, all this and more in a penniless state. Shishi, I no hold.

Soon, the bus conductor, this chocolate-skinned young man with huge Yokuzuna arms and chest like that of recently divorced Nollywood actor Bolanle Ninalowo, stood up and shouted......
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