The Irony of Life (5) 😔😔

THE IRONY OF LIFE (5)😔😔

Duration: 4mins

“Call me Penelope. And you are?”

“Oreoluwa.”

She tried pronouncing a couple of times after me, all I kept hearing was ‘hurry-hoo-ah'.

I didn’t give much thought to that as I was still in a confused state, wondering why Thaddy told me I was coming to work for a woman in her late fifties only to meet a perfectly flawless, picturesque more than twenty years younger lady. 

Was he mistaken?

“Thaddy said he would send an agreement document through you,” she said, breaking into my thought, poured herself a glass of champagne. 

All I could pick clearly from her words were ‘Thaddy, sending and document.’

“Yes,” I replied, fetched the sealed envelope and took it to her. 

As I bent handing it over, I noticed thick, deep lines at the corners of her eyes. The back of palm seemed to betray the rest of her body with its veins that stood out in furrows. I later learnt she was a Hollywood movie star who had been through Face lift, breast and butt augmentation, tummy tuck and every possible body shape enhancement surgery there is.

“Hurry-hoo-ha,” she called, looking from the paper to me.

From the look of things, she was interested in the proper pronunciation of my name. I had thought seeing it boldly written in the document would make this easier, it ended up making matters worse. 

“O-re-o-lu-wa,” I broke the words into syllables.

Mrs. Penelope was simply impossible. As though her tongue was twisted or tied, the name kept coming out as ‘hurry-hoo-ha'. 

When I realized we would be doing that all day if we were not careful, I gave up.

“You can simply call me, Ore.”

She should be able to get that.

I thought. I didn’t know I had just succeeded in shooting myself in the foot. And so, I was given a name with a pronunciation of metal-containing rock. 

“Ore, I guess Thady has told you what you will be doing for me?”

She must have noticed I was lost. She recapped. Thereon, she spoke to me at a slow pace it wouldn’t be any better if I was learning alphabets all over again.

“He told me I would be moving things and doing any necessary cleaning.”

Mrs. Penelope put in more details, revealing she was renting out her house for a movie shoot for the next two months. She wanted her valuables moved to a room; away from sight, not to mention being tampered with. I was expected to come over every Saturday to tidy up the place ahead of the weekdays activities. 

$120 for 8 Saturdays?

I may not be good in Arithmetic, but not with counting money. I did a mental calculation of the total earning and arrived at $960 in no time. And like the tortoise in the popular folktale, l projected what I would use the money for even when I was yet to do the work—how I would send some home, get a phone and pocket the rest. I couldn’t wait to get to work. It soon began in earnest. 

Mrs. Penelope pointed at things around the house which I moved to an empty room. We started with a mobile wardrobe and a chest box in her bedroom. From there we went to another room with wrapped cartoons. As I was moving them, I came across a table portrait displaying four people. At a steady look, I figured it was Mrs. Penelope seated in the middle. She still looked good without the surgeries. Beside her was a man of her age group. Flanked on their sides were their younger version, a male and a female, + or – 2 my age. Then it struck me Mrs. Penelope couldn’t be living all alone in this big building. 

On joining her in the storeroom, lifting a box along, I handed over the portrait. Suddenly Mrs. Penelope's countenance fell, her eyes were glistening with tears. 

“Ore, you need to leave.”

This time, her words were as clear as they could be, yet they sounded like Greek.

We have barely spent an hour moving the loads.

What's happening?

“What?”

“You heard me, leave!”

I was a blend of shock and confusion.

“What of the loads?” I managed.

“I say leave! Now! Or I call the cops.”

At that, whether I had walked on my head or legs, I couldn’t tell. All I knew was I found myself outside.

Is this a kind of joke or nightmare?

The loud bang of the door as she slammed it behind me got reality dawning on me.

“Aaah, I have been followed. My village people are at work. They finally got me,” I muttered.

Where do I go from here?

In the first place, I didn’t know my way around, I could only head back to the train station and board a train back the way I came. But not a dime was on me. The plan was to get T-fare from my pay. I wished I had a phone.

Lost and stranded, clouds of tears gathered by the corners of my eyes, it was going to rain heavily.

How I miss home.

In such dilemma, all you need do is look around for a bowl and stand by  the roadside. And if you are lucky to be able to couple it with a sunshade, you are much good to go. A few call out of 'Bambi Allah, tori Olorun' will get some Nairas dropping in your bowl in no time. It walks like magic. 

And you could decide to go cooperate by walking up to passersby with a well-composed phrase that would draw their pity, ‘my pocket was picked along the way. I have no money to get me to my destination. Please assist me with any amount you can afford’. 

Don’t forget to seal with ‘thank you', and you will soon be some naira rich.

Should one try such here?

I doubted one could get away with such tricks in this much civilized society, decided to trek as far as my legs could take me, or till whatever fate had in store caught up with me.

I was walking out of the compound, dragging my feet at a snail's pace. Suddenly, I heard Mrs. Penelope call from behind. She had opened her door and was standing by the entrance.

Has she changed her mind?

I hurried back towards the house. I was a few steps to getting to her when she flung some dollar notes in the air. I couldn’t believe my eyes.

Osé oko Ìyá mi.

“Thank you, Ma’am,” I was saying when the door slammed shut again.

I bent, picked and was wowed. She had given me the agreed 3hours/day pay. I couldn’t hold the excitement in I just had to holler it out.

Money must have a spirit attached to it. I who was weak and sapped a moment ago was now so energized I felt like screaming out my guts.

Heading down the train station with $120 in my pocket was as though I was gliding rather than walking. 

At night when I arrived at the factory with the others, I was walking over to Thaddy to report how the day went when he met me halfway and ordered me to see him in his office right away. His harsh voice tone and frowny countenance indicated something was wrong. Last time, we parted on a friendly note. Whatever it was could only be linked to Mrs. Penelope.

O God, what's happening?

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To be continued same time, next week. Hope you enjoyed the read? Please leave a comment. Thank you.🙏🏻