I have always been a troublesome person since I was a kid. I always wanted to show a bit of muscle. Many times, it got me into trouble, physical and verbal fights.
I worked as a secretary in a big organization in Owerri, Imo State. The organization dealt with Agriculture products including animal feeds, drugs, and so much more.
Legacy Agriculture Limited was one of the biggest agricultural companies in the city. The company made huge sales due to frequent patronage from customers.
As a financial secretary, my job was to handle the financial transactions of customers. I kept the record of every payment, issued the receipt to every buyer before they could go ahead to buy their product.
On this fateful day, a woman in her late fifties came to make payment to buy food for her birds. She dressed in a traditional dress that suggested she was from the western part of the country. She gave me some amount of money. I collected the money and counted it.
"Ma, #4,000?", I asked to confirm before recording the payment.
"No, no, no. I gave you #5,000.", she replied, giving me a hard look.
I counted the money once more. It was still #4,000.
"I'm very sorry, madam. But it seems it's #4,000 you gave me".
Owerri is one of the popular cities in eastern Nigeria. The natives speak the Igbo language, unlike the western part where the natives speak Yoruba. However, English was the official language of the country. The majority of Nigerians could speak in English whether Westerner or Easterner.
"Is this one unfortunate", the woman said in her native language.
"Ma'am, check your side to see if you can find the #1,000", I said, ignoring what she uttered in her native language.
"Unfortunate being", she said in her language before changing to speak in English. "There's no money here".
"Ha", my colleague who had just arrived at the scene uttered. He was aware that the woman was uttering curse words at me.
"Leave the woman alone, she comes from a lineage of unfortunate lots", I replied, looking at her eyeball to eyeball; but this time in Yoruba, the woman's native language.
The woman raised her eyes, opened her mouth wide both in surprise and anger. I spent 20 years in Osun, a western state, before relocating to Imo for employment. It was there I learnt how to speak Yoruba. The woman sat there, surprised that someone in Owerri could speak her language and angry that I insulted her too in her language.
"Is it me you're talking to?", she said in Yoruba, raising her voice in the process.
"No, your shadow". I replied in Yoruba.
"You are a bastard", she screamed.
"And your children too".
The whole room was in chaos until a man walked in. He held a #1,000 note.
"Ma'am, I've been looking around for you", he said as he handed the note to her.
"You were supposed to pay #18,000 but you paid #19,000. I've been looking for you and I was directed to this place". He added.
She took the note weakly, with a shock on her face.
"Take", she said, handing the #1,000 note to me.
I collected it, looked straight at her face expecting an apology.
I gave her her receipt before she walked out. She mentioned something about being respectful to elders.
"Don't call me an unfortunate being ever", I replied.
At the end of the day, I was called to the general manager's office. He had heard of the incident and wanted to hear my side of the story. After minutes of trying to convince him that I was the one offended, he asked me to pick a letter on the table.
It was a sack letter with my name already on it. I was just called to sign it, pack my load, and leave the company.
Although I felt sad about the sack, I never regretted the incident that led to the sack. I liked the fact I served her "hot". Respect, they say is reciprocal.
Was I wrong or right? Your say.
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