Every week, Zikoko seeks to understand how people move the Naira in and out of their lives. Some stories will be struggle-ish, others will be bougie. All the time, it’ll be revealing.
What’s your earliest memory of money?
Growing up, I had a rich aunt who, every time she visited or we visited her, gave my siblings and me brand-new currency notes. They felt so nice to hold. Of course, I never got to hold them long enough because of the typical Nigerian family, “Let Daddy and Mummy keep it for you.”
I didn’t truly realise that money was important to do things until my first year of university in 2012. My family’s finances took a massive, sharp turn for the worse.
Let’s back up a bit. Could you paint a picture of your family’s fortune prior to this?
We weren’t rich, but we were comfortable. Before I was born, my mum was a schoolteacher, but she later moved into banking. My dad worked in the oil and gas business. We lived in a two-bedroom apartment with two other extended family members.
My parents worked late a lot, so we were pretty independent kids. Eventually, my mum left banking to start a fabric business, which did really well for a while before she discontinued it. We had typical average-household moments, like using candles when there was no generator, but it never felt like a lack. I had no lavish wants. There was always food, and that was enough.
From my senior secondary school days up until my first year of university, things were actually great. My dad’s business had peaked. I had a car in uni and pocket money to do whatever I wanted. If I ran out of money at school, I’d just call my mum, and she’d just send it to my account.
Then 2012 happened.
Yeah. Towards the end of my 100 level, my dad discovered that his business partner was embezzling money. It was a serious issue because they executed government contracts. I was genuinely scared my dad would go to prison.
He had to sell some land and a car, and we moved to the outskirts of Lagos. Gradually, the money stopped flowing in, and my dad stopped travelling as much.
How did that directly hit you?
I stopped getting money “just because”; my monthly pocket money became smaller and smaller. I think my world generally became smaller; I couldn’t just do things like I used to.
Around that time, my university went on a long strike. Initially, I was throwing tantrums, demanding that they send me to a university in Ghana or somewhere else since the strike was wasting my time. But the new reality had already crashed my brother’s UK plans, and my dad definitely couldn’t afford Ghana.
While sitting at home frustrated, my cousin told me about an internship at the media company where she worked. I loved reading and writing, so I took it just to get out of the house. That was my entry into employment.
Was it a paid internship?
Yes. They paid me ₦40k/month. At that point, I had never considered a career path. I didn’t even like the course I was studying in school. But that internship changed everything. I was writing for the blog, reviewing restaurants, and interviewing musicians and actors. I was having the time of my life.
The funny thing was that ₦40k couldn’t even fully cover my expenses, since the office was hours away from where we lived. My dad still had to help with fuel money so I could drive to work. I think he was fine with that extra expense because we all viewed the financial crisis as a temporary bump in the road, and things would get better soon. We didn’t know the bump would keep getting higher.
What happened with the internship after school resumed?
The company was incredibly flexible. During the strike, I worked full-time. When school resumed, I went part-time, working two or three days a week after classes or on weekends. The media house was expanding into video production, doing short films and series, and I completely threw myself into it. I assisted on sets and wrote scripts.
By my third and fourth year in uni, that ₦40k salary became my entire life. There was zero allowance coming from home. That money fed me at school, paid my tuition (about ₦15k then), and helped my siblings when they were broke. Things got so bad at home that my mum would occasionally call me to borrow ₦10k, which I’d never get back.
Wait. Your pay didn’t change?
No. Four years as an intern, and the pay stayed exactly at ₦40k. But I saw a path there. I just felt, “This is what I have to do.” Even if they didn’t pay me, I was willing to work until I found my way into something else.
My work helped me build industry networks, and I got the opportunity to do some freelance stuff here and there. My boyfriend at the time was in the film industry, so I often assisted him on set. One time, he landed a two-day gig in another state and took me along. When he asked how much I wanted, I was like, “Just pay me whatever,” and he was like, “No, you have to know how much you want to make. Put a figure in the budget.”
So, I asked for ₦60k per day. At the end of the shoot, he handed me ₦120k. It felt like crack. ₦120k for two days of work when my monthly salary was ₦40k? Crazy. I sent ₦15k each to my mum and dad, gave some to my brother, and it felt good to do it. That experience made me realise I possessed a skill people would actually pay money for.
By the time I reached my final year in 2016, I had completely lost interest in university. I failed a couple of papers, looked at the stress of rewriting them, and said, “Fuck this.” I walked away and went to the media company to let them know I was ready to work full-time.
How did your parents handle your decision to drop out?
They don’t know. To this day, I have never told them.
You say?
My parents are the type who let me be because I grew independent very quickly. If I don’t want to answer a question, I will pivot the conversation expertly. Because I immediately went into full-time work, there was no gap where I was sitting at home acting like a graduate. I was constantly on movie sets or at the office.
I’m not a big fan of pageantry, so I didn’t care about graduation pictures or birthday shoots. When my younger brother graduated later, he didn’t go to his convocation either, so nobody at home really minded. They saw I had my life together and was financially supporting everyone, so they didn’t ask questions.
Fair enough. What did the full-time role look like?
When I went full-time in 2016, my pay was bumped to around ₦60k or ₦70k. Still small, but the economy was better then, so it could stretch until the end of the month.
I finessed my way from being just a content writer to an assistant producer. I made sure I was highly likeable, pitched ideas constantly and stayed available. One day, the head of the media house was stressed because a fashion stylist on a shoot was messing up. She asked me to go into the wardrobe room and piece outfits together. I did it, everyone loved it, and suddenly, she appointed me as the head of wardrobe for one of our shows.
I had never done wardrobe in my life. I didn’t even know what continuity was, but I was like, “I can do it. Don’t worry.” It was three months of pure torture. I cried every day and barely slept because we filmed late into the night, and I’d stay up figuring out what everyone would wear the next day. Nigerian filmmaking is chaotic, and I was dealing with veteran actors who were kind but still intimidated the hell out of me.
At some point, my car became the wardrobe trunk. It was awful, but I hustled through it. My pay was ₦120k/month for the three months of shooting, which was hilarious because I’m sure an actual stylist would have spat at that amount. But I was just a young person looking for a chance.
When the show wrapped up, I walked straight to the head of production and said, “Hey, I want to be a producer, and I think you should give me a chance.” She was like, “Okay,” then handed me a show to run and raised my salary to ₦150k.
Energy!
The new pay felt good. I was the youngest, coolest kid in the office, so they routed all the millennial and Gen-Z digital lifestyle and music shows to me. I created formats that went viral and pulled massive numbers for the company. I was there for about two more years and left in 2018.
Why did you leave?
The ₦150k was why I left. The company started hiring new assistant producers. I would spend weeks training them from scratch, only to discover, in a casual conversation, that these new hires were being brought in at a ₦200k salary. Meanwhile, I was carrying a much heavier workload and producing their hit shows on ₦150k.
I went to the head of production and requested to be paid the same as what others were earning. She told me to “convince” her why I think I deserved it. I decided I wasn’t going to try to convince anyone. They could see the work I was doing, and if that wasn’t enough proof, then it wasn’t the right place for me.
While still at the job, I started job hunting. A contact connected me with a fintech company looking for someone to produce and do social media content. I interviewed, and they offered me ₦350k/month. I resigned instantly. My time at the fintech was incredibly short-lived, though.
What happened?
I worked there for three months and got fired. I was young, hot-headed, and foolish. I had an issue with someone in management, and I didn’t handle it well. I lost my temper, and we got into a loud argument. Of course, they couldn’t let a lowly employee speak to management that way, so I lost the job.
I was unemployed for about six months, and it was a really tough period for me. My parents still lived far away, so I’d moved in with my partner when I still had a job. After I got fired, I struggled to find any kind of work, whether freelance or 9-5, despite all my applications. I hated being dependent.
I hated relying on someone else to buy airtime or food. It made me incredibly angry and sad. I also couldn’t ask my parents because things were still bad at home. In fact, the worse things got for my family financially, the more religious they became. I became a hardcore atheist because it all felt performative.
Then in 2019, I caught a break. One of my LinkedIn applications was successful, and I landed a senior producer role at a media publication. The pay was ₦200k/month, a pay cut from the fintech job, but I was desperate for survival.
I feel you
The workload was hell, though. I was working Monday to Sunday and dying on the line. My commute meant waking up at 5 a.m. to battle traffic, working all day, and driving back late.
I was severely depressed. I’d get home, turn off all the lights, roll up, smoke, and pass out. Then repeat. I felt like I was working myself to the grave because if I stopped, I wouldn’t eat.
The major positive was that I was able to save enough within a few months to rent an apartment with a roommate.
Then COVID hit in 2020.
Did lockdown affect your employment?
Lockdown was ironically the best time of my life. The company laid off many people, but my boss fought for me, so I kept my job.
That was my first taste of remote work. No traffic or physical office politics. We had press passes, so when we went out to film, we’d finish a shoot in three hours because the roads were bare. I had time to exercise and rest. My salary remained at ₦200k. One of my siblings even moved in with me.
The funny thing is, my own layoff came right after the lockdown lifted in August 2020.
Mad o
See! I had barely anything saved because of endless family emergencies. For the rest of 2020, I survived entirely on intense freelancing, working as a production manager, manager, or anything else I could find.
In January 2021, an advertising agency reached out to me on LinkedIn. They offered ₦250k/month. I took it because I wanted experience in every industry possible, but it turned out to be a mistake. I had zero work-life balance again. I could be at the beach with my friends on a Sunday, my laptop open on my knees, taking client meetings right there.
At some point, it clicked that I really didn’t have to endure misery. So when, in September 2021, a friend told me about an opportunity at a crypto company, I was open to it. I interviewed, and they offered me ₦400k/month.
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Back to tech money
Yes! It was a chill environment. Everyone was young, and the vibe was amazing. I spent two years there. Early in 2023, they offered to start paying our salaries in USDT to hedge against inflation, which pushed my take-home pay to the equivalent of ₦500,000.
But by late 2023, the crypto company ran into issues. They began defaulting on salaries and eventually laid off my entire team. The only silver lining was that they let us keep our official MacBook Pros as an apology for sacking us without notice. To me, that was a fantastic exchange.
Skrimmm. How long were you unemployed this time?
Only about two months. Once again, LinkedIn came through. The CEO of a media company messaged me directly. My new salary was ₦700k/month.
The work was so easy I felt like I was collecting free money. I could do it with my eyes closed. Of course, in the corporate world, you always have to look busier than you are, so they don’t question your salary. I was also getting freelance gigs, earning between ₦600k and ₦700k for random shoots.
During this period, my landlord got into debt and sold the house, so I had to move. I rented a bigger place, and my siblings and my mum all moved in with me. My brother and I took over the household fully so our parents wouldn’t have to worry about survival. I paid the bills, fed everyone, and covered our youngest sibling’s school costs.
But I still wanted more. I was tired of living paycheck to paycheck and felt I should be earning money. Moreso, black tax and inflation were aggressively eating into the ₦700k. I had no savings. I didn’t exactly have a strong savings culture, but I knew my income could be better. So, I was applying to jobs.
Then came June 2025.
What happened in June 2025?
An abroad-based headhunter reached out to me on LinkedIn for a creative project manager/producer role in Africa. The very next day, another recruiter messaged me about the exact same role. I told myself, “This job belongs to me.”
At this point, I have to ask what’s in your LinkedIn stew
I don’t even know! I don’t even post there, so it’s not like I’m doing anything. It’s crazy.
Anyway, the interview and assessment process took just four days. I remember I did the negotiations right in my workplace’s studio. They offered me $3k/month. My headphones stopped working mid-call, and I had to unplug them to continue. My coworkers were there, but I didn’t care. Nothing was going to stop me. I resigned that very day.
I’m dying. To be fair, doing that for $3k was very valid
You get it. In fact, after I signed the contract that day, they were like, “Can you start next tomorrow?” I was like, “I can start now.”
After conversion, my salary usually lands anywhere between ₦4.1 million and ₦4.5 million. The first time it hit, I just stared at the screen. I couldn’t believe it. Besides the money, I have more free time. My work hours are 7 a.m. to 3 p.m., meaning I finally have a life. I also travel internationally two or three times a year on the company’s dime to meet my global team.
I still take on freelance work whenever an opportunity comes. I usually make an additional ₦1 million from those every two to three months. Last December, I worked on a music video, shot two commercials, and made an extra ₦5 million in side gigs outside my salary. I recently moved my family and I to a bigger apartment. The rent is ₦3.5 million, and I’ve paid for two years, so I don’t have to worry about it for a while.
How has your income growth impacted how you think about money?
Having money means a lot to me as a woman. It’s independence and the ability to dictate how my life goes. I don’t need to rely on anyone. Money gives me freedom and power, and I can’t trade that for anything.
My quality of life has generally improved. I don’t worry about money as much anymore since I can meet my needs. I know there’s so much more money to be made in this world, and I’m going to make it, regardless of what anyone wants to do. I’ll keep pushing, and the money will keep increasing.
Inject it. Now’s the part where we talk about your monthly spending
For the savings, I just started taking it seriously around March, mostly because of the people who kept pushing me to save something. I set up a direct debit from my income to my savings app, so I’m not tempted to touch it.
I’m also exploring investment options such as stocks and treasury bills. I understand the need to invest and make my money work for me. So, I’m working on that.
What does your portfolio look like right now?
I have about ₦2 million in my savings. I also put about ₦400k into US stocks. I’m a bit wary of the stock market because it feels like advanced sports betting to me, but I’m doing my research.
I’m currently waiting for the Dangote Refinery to list its shares so I can invest and earn returns. I refuse to invest in local businesses because I’ve seen people lose everything when a business collapses. I want my money where I can see it.
How would you describe your relationship with money?
I like having money, but I’m an incredibly anxious person. You know how I said I don’t worry about money as much anymore? Well, my new worry is how long I can keep this going.
Life has shown me that I need to worry. I’ve been laid off several times, so I don’t feel entirely secure. If the company closes down today or decides they don’t want to work with me anymore, where will I find another company that’ll pay me this much? I constantly feel like I am one bad day away from losing it all and going back to where I started.
To deal with this anxiety, I’m constantly editing my CV and applying for jobs on LinkedIn every single morning before starting work. It sounds greedy, but $3,000 is no longer my endpoint. I know people earning $7,000 to $10,000 a month on retainer deals doing exactly what I do. If they can get it, why can’t I? I don’t have a degree or fancy certifications, and I’ve finessed my way through my career, but I actually have proof of work.
I also think I could have more self-control when it comes to spending money. I tend to spend whenever I feel like, which isn’t bad, but I need to do better if I want to have some sort of cushion for whatever comes. I just need to be stronger and come disciplined in my relationship with money.
What’s something you want right now but can’t quite afford yet?
I need a new car. I also want to move into my own solo apartment. I love my family, but I have spent my entire adult life living with and caring for people. It would be nice to be alone in my own space.
My wildest dream is to take a 6-month holiday to travel the world or across Europe. It will cost an insane amount of money, but check back with me in eight months. You never know.
What about the last thing you bought that made you genuinely happy?
A PlayStation 5. I’ve wanted it for years. Early this year, I realised I could just buy it without blinking. It cost me ₦600,000. I bought a few games with it, and it brought me so much joy. I also spent about ₦2 million on a high-end work laptop, but that felt like an expense. The PS5 was pure happiness.
How would you rate your financial happiness on a scale of 1-10?
6. I’m comfortable, and I can buy almost anything I want within reason. I can take my friends and family out, buy them stuff and fix household emergencies without breaking a sweat. But I don’t think I have a safety net, so I don’t feel secure yet. There’s a lot of room for improvement.
My ultimate dream is to earn so much money that I never have to work a day in my life again. But to get to the point where I don’t have to work, I have to work a whole lot. And that’s exactly what I’m chasing.
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