Meetings. Spreadsheets. Social media metrics. These are the kinds of things we expect to overhear our co-workers discussing. But in Nigeria, things have always worked a little differently, and office conversations get crazier than many expect.
From the finance guy bragging about his affair to the teacher who claims she can never be fired because she’s beautiful, we rounded up 6 Nigerians who overheard strange conversations they weren’t supposed to at work.
“My wife? That one can never give it to me like Mama O.” — Jennifer *, 22, F.
Earlier this year, I started working at this PR firm as a brand management intern. I really like my job, especially because it’s female-dominated and all the women are really nice.
However, there are a handful of men who rub me the wrong way. The worst of these men is Dimma*, who works in finance. He always makes odd comments about how my trousers “shape me” and smiles at me in a way I think is supposed to be seductive.
Anyway, last month, I went to his office to get something for HR, but I stopped short when I heard him and another man laughing inside.
I shouldn’t have listened, but I’m nosy. The other man was talking about getting a blowjob and how his wife does it for him every night because he likes it. He asked Dimma what his wife does for him that he likes, and, condescendingly, Dimma said, “My wife? That one can never give it to me like Mama O.” I’d heard enough, so I entered his office, and the conversation stopped.
I wish I could say I was shocked, but I expected something like that from someone like him.
“Me? Work? That’s what that boy is for.” — Johnson*, 23, M.
I work as a junior news editor for a small tech firm. I like my job, but one thing about media? It moves quickly, so people have to work fast.
While I feel like everyone pulls their weight, there’s one person I’ve always felt slacked off: my supervisor and senior editor, Mr Joseph*. I’m meant to edit about three stories a day, but sometimes Mr Joseph will come and pile some of his work on top of mine, leaving me editing five stories a day and burning out before the close of work.
He always says it’s for my betterment and that when he came, that’s how he started. But that’s a lie because he didn’t start from a junior role like me, so there was no one to harass him.
Anyway, last year, the toilet I usually use was occupied, so I used the one in his office. He walked into his office while I was there, talking on the phone. At some point, I think the person on the line told him to get back to work or asked him when his break was over, because Mr Joseph scoffed, then said, “Me? Work? I don’t work again; that’s what that boy is for.” And by that boy, he was referring to me.
I was shocked. I knew he was using me, but him being so blatant about it was a different kind of pain.
I came out of the toilet and greeted him, wanting to draw attention to myself, but he didn’t even acknowledge me. Either he didn’t think I heard him, or he simply doesn’t care. Whatever the case may have been, it made me start looking for another job. I refuse to be disrespected when I’m doing so much work.
“How can they let me go? You know Mr T* likes my figure.” — Amaka*, 23, F.
I started working as an administrative assistant for a private secondary school last year. It’s not permanent, and I’m only doing it until I figure out what I actually want to do with my life.
The students are fine, but I don’t like the teachers. I think they’re typical, wicked Nigerian teachers: shouting at students instead of helping them learn, lazily breezing through classes, and things like that. The Principal, Mr T, is also very strange, and I don’t like the way he looks at the female students.
Of all these teachers, Miss Olaogun* is the worst one. She always screams at her students and favours the boys. She’s also one of the few young, unmarried teachers at the school, so she looks very different from her colleagues.
One day, during lunch, she and some teachers were sitting together, teasing each other about various things. I was at the table beside her with a different set of teachers. That’s how someone joked that Miss Olaogun would soon be fired, and she said, “How can they let me go? You know Mr T likes my figure.” And then they all burst out laughing. I was shocked by her audacity in saying something like that in public.
Since then, I’ve been keeping an eye on her and Mr T.
“The way ChatGPT has been writing my reports, I’ve even forgotten how to do my job.” — Tunde*, 26, M.
I think there’s an ethical way to use AI at work, but in my office, those ethics have been completely abandoned by my teammate, David*.
I work as a research assistant at a consulting firm, and my work relies heavily on gathering data, analysing reports, and helping staff prepare presentations. Clearly, a lot of rigour goes into it, so my reports usually take time, whereas my coworker, David, churns them out quickly. Our bosses constantly commend him for his fast pace.
However, one day, I stepped outside to stretch my legs and saw David by his car, making a call. He didn’t see me, so he kept talking about work. Eventually, he said, “The way ChatGPT has been writing my reports, I’ve even forgotten how to do my job.”
I’m not against using ChatGPT to help with tasks, but it was clear that David had been making up information in his reports. He even added, “They’re paying for my reports to sound intelligent. It doesn’t have to be factual.”
That was in December last year, and I worried he was getting away with it. This March, however, David was queried. No one knows why, but I strongly suspect he was caught.
“Is it simple sleeping with him that I can’t do?” — Ore*, 34, M.
In the decade I’ve worked as a pension officer, I don’t think I’ve ever met someone as bad at her job as the new intern in my office, Farida*.
She’s 21, and she spends all day on her phone. She doesn’t even get much work, but the small tasks she’s entrusted with, she completely neglects. Thankfully, someone reported her to our boss because she was yelled at last month.
When she was screamed at, she started crying, and one of the other interns took her to the toilet to comfort her. As they were coming out of the bathroom, the other intern joked, “Back in the day, we could sleep with our oga and not have to work.” I thought it was a stupid joke, but I also understood it for what it was.
However, Farida muttered with all seriousness, “Is it simple sleeping with him that I can’t do?”
I knew that thing wasn’t a joke, especially since the other girl told her to shut up. I told my colleague, and he said she’s just playing, but something about that girl doesn’t sit right with my spirit.
“Did I tell you I care about the f*cking staff?” — Thelma*, 28, F.
Three years ago, when I was religious, I used to volunteer in an Anglican church.
It wasn’t a mega-church, but a lot of people liked going there. However, a few things some pastors did rubbed me the wrong way. I knew a bunch of them weren’t living the pious life they claimed; they fought constantly behind the scenes and argued a lot about money. In particular, who deserved the most of it.
One day, some volunteers and I were counting the offerings after work when Pastor Abba* walked in and took a handful of the money. Obviously, we let him because we were just volunteers and he was a lead pastor, but outside the building, he was intercepted by another pastor, one of our more level-headed leaders.
He tried to reason with Pastor Abba, asking him if what he did was right, but Pastor Abba was annoyed and tried to sidestep him. Then the other pastor reminded him that Pastor Abba knew they tried to share the money equally among staff members. That’s how Pastor Abba exploded and shouted, “Did I tell you I care about the f*cking staff?” We all gasped, but he didn’t even care; he just kept walking away with the offering money.
It shocked me so much that I left that church. I was never going to be paid since I was only a volunteer, but the disregard for other people was more than I could handle. It’s been a long time since then, and even though I no longer think about God, I think about Pastor Abba a lot.
