You Are Fired! (Written By Heromaniaa) - Season 1 - Episode 5

6 years ago

You Are Fired! (Written By Heromaniaa) - Season 1 - Episode 5

“Let me have it quickly.”

“The business does well during celebrations like Valentine’s day, because more crowd means more money. So if we can have something like Valentine’s Day every day, then we will sell more food.”

“What do you have in your head, pap or custard? We can’t have Valentine’s day every day.” That was the Chef sounding smart.

“What I have in my head is a hairy backside save for the stench and the massive fat deposit” I replied calmly.

How was that for a clap back? I should probably write diss tracks for Meek Mill. “My idea is, let’s bring crowd in here. Every day, every hour.”

“How!?” The boss was not known for patience.

“This is how… we organize church events in this place. Yes, church is the new cash cow. We convince churches around to hold some of their soul winning fellowships inside the restaurant. I mean there are so many souls to be won here, Funke’s for instance. But that is not the aim. When they sing and dance won’t they be thirsty?

“They will.”

“Won’t they be hungry?

“They will.”

“Food sales will go up. Some randy ones will lodge. The multiplier effect will be exponential! I mean… you can clap now”
There was a spirited round of applause. I felt it was the slightly impressive choice of words that excited them, not the idea.

“You think this plan will work?” The boss asked?

“Does anyone have a plan B? I asked. There was no reply.

The following day, we made and distributed fliers. Many churches wrote and called signifying interest in the soul winning program. And it happened that they came pouring in en masse the next day.
I had a carpenter make me two wooden piggy banks; I hid one somewhere and on the other one, I wrote “Charity, T & C apply” and kept it close to the entrance and as people came in I convinced them to give to charity, some were stingy like an Ijebu man with a Bsc. in Economics but many others gave generously.

Needless to say, my plan was effective and by six we had sold off all the food and drinks, even the rooms were all booked. Apparently, some pastors came from neighbouring states and needed accommodation.

My boss was very impressed with the whole idea, and twice or so, he came to work with a worn out King James Version.

The whole plan went well until kasala burst.

The restaurant was filled to capacity the fifth day, the church members were in high spirits, singing and dancing excitedly, waiting for the pastor.

Thirty minutes crawled past and he that was present an hour ago was nowhere to be found. So many of the church members began to go round the hotel, searching the rooms and stores, thinking he had slept off or something.

I even joined in the search. After thirty minutes of fruitless search it occurred to me that we had not searched room 4. I told all the search party to follow me. We got to the room and I pushed it open, and lo and behold, what we saw vexed the devil himself.

The pastor was (pants down) on top of a naked Stephanie. The church members were irate with anger. They said Stephanie was a temptress, and had lured their pastor into committing the unholy deed. They nearly lynched the poor girl. Had we the staff not come to her rescue we would have had a manslaughter to contend with. In the scuffle that ensued, seats and windows were broken.

The boss was furious, at first I thought he was angry at the church members; but he wasn’t, then I sensed he was upset with Stephanie; but I was wrong. Later that evening, he called me and told me to come to work the next day and pick my salary and never return to the company. That was when I knew whom he had blamed for the whole thing. What a mess, after my genius idea, what do I get in return? A sack. I was fired.

The next day, we all assembled in the restaurant and the boss announced that the money that would be spent fixing all the damaged property was in fact higher than the profit we had made. So he had no choice than to break open the charity box and take some for the repairs.
He told Funke to get the box from his office where I usually keep it after work. Then he paid me 15,000 naira as my monthly salary. It was supposed to be twenty but he said the month wasn’t over so he couldn’t pay me for services I did not render. When they were about to break the box, he told me to pick my stuff and leave. He didn’t want me to know how much was in the box. So I left.

When I got home, I brought out the real charity box and broke it. I counted the money; it was about fifty seven thousand naira. Bros, I am rich. You may be wondering how I had the box with me. May be you have forgotten, I made two of those boxes. After the scuffle of the previous night, I went up, left the empty box in my boss’ office and took the real one home.

I folded the money and kept it inside my inner suit pocket. You might want to say I should hand over the money to charity, that it is wrong to take what belongs to the poor. Well, you are right. But Charity’s money is my money too. On the box, I had written T and C apply. Under the box I wrote out the full terms and condition. It clearly says. “All proceeds of the money shall go to Charity, Psalm’s mother. And in her absence, Psalm, being her next of kin, shall take full possession of the money.”

Well, there you have it. Like Davido who said his father’s house was his house too, I am saying, Charity’s money is my money too. And if you are among those that visited the hotel and gave generously, pele, next time read the terms and condition. There is a reason companies like MTN write their Terms and Condition where you won’t see it.

And if the chicken-change you put inside the box, dey vex you too much, I am on a Danfo going to Ikeja City Mall. Come and beat me.