Chapter 1: Receipts and Rejection

When I went to claim my travel reimbursements, the accounts people no even look my face before dem fling my receipts back at me sharp sharp.

Their attitude be like say I dey disturb their lunch break. One just wave hand anyhow, like person dey chase stubborn flies for buka.

"New company policy: For big cities, accommodation no fit pass ₦7,000 per day, meals na ₦1,500. You don pass the limit."

She no even check if my receipts make sense, just give me that sharp tone, eyes glued to her computer like say I no dey this world.

"Aunty, I go Abuja o! Even those cheap hotels like Peace Lodge dey collect at least ₦20,000 per night. With ₦7,000, you wan make I sleep under bridge?"

I try smile small, dey hope say pity go show for her face. But nothing. Her lips just tighten, like say I dey talk dust.

"That one no concern me. Na oga talk am."

She wave hand again, shooing me like my problem na small pikin matter.

I just look the pile of receipts for my hand—almost ₦800,000, half year salary wey I use my own money pay first. I even max out my ATM card just to survive. If dem no reimburse me, hunger go wire me.

My hand dey shake as I count the receipts again, heart heavy. Even if na village, which company dey use person like this? For where!

After remembering all the wahala I don do for this company, I carry small hope go meet oga. But he just shut me down sharp sharp:

Him eyes no even blink, just one cold reply. "I don already talk am, na the rule be that. No come disturb me."

As he dey talk, him phone ring; he look away, like say I be beggar for motor park.

As I leave oga’s office, my receipts heavy for my hand, one thing clear—this company no send my survival.