Sometimes, life puts you in messy situations where you’re not sure if you’re doing the right thing or not. That’s what Na Me F— Up? is about — real Nigerians sharing the choices they’ve made, while you decide if they fucked up or not.
After Ada*(30) noticed that her brother, Chinedu* (26), hated his job, she advised him to leave it. He did, even though he had nothing else lined up. Now, six months after his reckless decision, Chinedu resents Ada for his joblessness and has made her life a living hell.
At the end of this story, you’ll get to answer one question: Did she fuck up or not?
This is Ada’s dilemma, as told to Azara.
I hate living with my brother.
My parents begged me to let him move into my apartment two years ago, since he couldn’t comfortably afford an apartment he liked on his ₦240k/month salary. I knew it was a bad idea.
As the older daughter and only sibling, I have always had to care for him as he grew up: wash his dishes, cook some of his meals, even sweep his room. Chinedu never thanked me, a behaviour my parents (especially my mother) enabled, since he was “the boy of the house.” I didn’t want to repeat the same toxic pattern as an adult, but I reluctantly agreed to let him move in for my parents’ sake, and at the end of 2024, he did.
For a while, the arrangement wasn’t bad. He mostly stayed in his room, bought his own food, and even contributed to the cost of utilities such as electricity and fuel. Then, every weekend, he would go clubbing or see his girlfriend, so I had the house to myself. We really only saw each other and talked during breakfast or at night.
During one of our breakfast talks in 2025, Chinedu revealed for the first time that he hated his job as a mechanical engineer.
“The pay is nonsense for the industry I’m in,” he told me, and I actually agreed with him. I thought engineers should earn big money, and I didn’t understand why my ₦420k/month salary as a nursing officer was higher.
To be fair, I’ve been in my role for five years and have received a promotion, whereas Chinedu is still more or less at entry level. I pointed this out, but he wasn’t having it, saying he was good at his job and should be making more.
I suggested job hunting, but he said his hectic work schedule didn’t allow him. With no other advice for him, I told him to quit and find something else.
In my defence, I followed up by reminding him how risky joblessness would be in the current job market, but I’m not sure he listened. The second I suggested he quit, his eyes lit up, and I knew my brother had taken the advice to heart.
He began bringing it up every day, to the point I started avoiding our breakfasts together. One time, I heard him on the phone with our mum, and he kept repeating, “Ada begged me to leave my job,” which is an exaggeration.
As annoying as it was, I didn’t take him seriously. He had said it for so long that I thought it was just talk. But on one faithful day in March this year, I saw he was still sleeping at 7 a.m. I woke him up for work, and he turned to me sleepily, mumbling, “I don’t have work again.”
I was stunned. He actually went ahead and quit. He later told me he had an interview lined up for another job he believed would work out, which was what finally pushed him to quit. He also reminded me that I made him stop working.
It was clear he had wanted to leave the job for a while, and since my advice enabled him, he could use me as an excuse if things went wrong.
And things went very wrong.
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He didn’t get that job, and at first, that was okay because he was still sure he’d find a new job. He also had some money in his savings, so he was still paying for utilities and buying his own food. However, by May, his attitude had changed drastically. I think he had applied for over 15 jobs and had only one interview, with no acceptances.
That same month, he stopped paying his share of our light and fuel bills. I didn’t fight him since he was going through a rough patch, but then he started asking me to “put his mouth” when I was cooking, AKA, cook for him. I swear, I got flashbacks from our childhood.
I reluctantly started cooking for him, but he would always complain about how much pepper I used. One time, before I went to work, I made bread and eggs, and he woke up late, then called me at work to say I should have woken him up to eat because now his eggs were cold.
I think he was just trying to pick a fight. He has always been like this. Something will go wrong, and he’ll blame me. My mum even called me and asked me why I made my brother jobless. If not for my dad, who reminded her that Chinedu is a 26-year-old man who quit by choice, my whole family would have been against me.
Still, I could manage all of that. As badly as my brother was behaving, he was still my family. That’s what I told myself until I reached my breaking point a few weeks ago.
Chinedu went to get a plate so we could share the rice I cooked, and he accidentally sent a few of my glass plates crashing to the floor. It honestly wasn’t a big deal, but instead of apologising or cleaning it up, he just walked away.
I followed him, shouting at him. I hadn’t been that angry at him since we were children. I didn’t care about the plates, but I had just finished sweating and cooking for us. Not only did he not thank me, but now I had to sweep up his mess.
He started shouting back and, of course, blamed me for his situation, saying he would still be employed if not for me.
I called him an idiot, then he reported me to my mum. She called to lecture me, but I started shouting at her too, saying she was the one who had made him this arrogant.
The call ended with her begging me to be patient and understanding with him, but I think I’ve been all those things with my little brother for too long. I told her to come and take him back to her house.
We’ve been on the matter since then, and in that time, Chinedu has stopped talking to me completely. I don’t care, I just want my space back. By the end of the month, if nobody takes me seriously, I’ll pack my brother out myself.
I don’t regret advising him, because he’s not a baby. He didn’t have to listen to me, but he is using me as an excuse for his bad behaviour. Whether he’s struggling or not, if he isn’t out of my house by September 30th, I’ll throw everything he owns on the road. Let somebody be cooking for him there.
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