I cannot forget when Chuka called me on the phone, even though the advert clearly said WhatsApp only, begging me to please adjust the interview time for him because he desperately needed the job.
The panel and I had agreed that the interview would be over by 12 noon, except I was willing to pay extra hours based on our hourly arrangement. I agreed to the terms, yet I found myself wondering why I was spending more money for someone I had never met and wasn’t even sure would be good enough for the sales rep job.
While contemplating, I could not shake off the desperation in his voice when he said, “Sir, I really need this job. I just finished my NYSC today and only just saw the interview notice. I’ll leave really early from the village I served in Kogi and try to be there before noon, but in case I don’t make it on time, an hour or a few minutes more will be just fine, please.”
I remembered so well what life after Youth Service looked like. That compulsory settlement phase, when your parents felt you had come of age to fend for yourself and could rightly stop giving you money. Hmm. I quickly agreed, plus his name being Chuka like mine softened me a bit.
As predicted, he arrived a little late but aced the interview. I was glad I’d waited and happily handed him his engagement letter: ₦50,000 monthly wage with other terms and conditions of employment.
Six months later, he called me one morning to inform me of his resignation, with immediate effect.
Shocked, I asked if he’d seen the one-month notification clause clearly spelt out to give us time to find a replacement. He said yes, but didn’t think it was serious, after all, it was just a small supermarket job.
Keeping my cool, I asked for his updated CV and saw our tiny business listed as his Sales Rep experience. Despite my appeal for him to stay just one more week so we could get a replacement, he said no and left, expressing willingness to refund one month’s salary as per the terms and conditions.
I simply told him: At some point in your life, this ₦50k job was like a ₦500k job, and our business did what it could to give you that chance which opened other doors. If we didn’t have systems in place for these kinds of behaviours, we would have had to close the business temporarily before finding a replacement, causing some of our customers to go elsewhere for the services we offer.
It is selfish not to consider other people who may need that same ₦50k job to gain the experience that makes them attractive to those paying ₦500k.
Allow me to end this write-up with a popular Nigerian English slogan:
“Fellow employees, let us be nicer, and not put businesses that once benefitted us in tight corners.”
Shalom.
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