If I hadn’t been annoyed at my boss for moving us to the co-working space, I probably would have noticed him, because I have what I call, the fine boy radar.
I can smell fine boys from a mile away. It’s a superpower I possess and if the rest of the world wasn’t so deep, I’d probably make it as one of the Avengers.
So, if I were in my right senses and hadn’t been blinded by anger, I’d have noticed him immediately.
Okay, maybe what I was feeling wasn’t anger; I’m probably exaggerating.
But yeah, it was definitely something close to anger. I didn’t like how my boss literally shipped us to a new location without our consent. Not like she had ever sought our opinion before taking decisions.
But still.
Initially, when I started working for her, we’d been working from home. My boss is a Virtual Assistant or should I say, the Virtual Assistant, while we work under her as her assistants.
She started as a freelancer many years ago, getting gigs from a popular freelance site.
And when the work became overwhelming, she employed other freelancers – including yours truly – to work with her.
Sometimes, I still wonder how she is able to get that many gigs from the site because I also have an account on the platform and it is very challenging getting jobs there, especially as a Nigerian – for obvious reasons.
But whatever the case, our outlet exists because of that platform and I couldn’t be more grateful at the beginning because I could work from the comfort of my home.
There’d been really nothing like waking up when you like and choosing your work hours.
However, before long, my boss complained that the arrangement was no longer comfortable. According to her, getting internet data for each of us was too expensive and sometimes, she couldn’t reach us when she needed us.
So when her rent was due in her old house, she moved to a two-bedroom apartment and converted one of the bedrooms to an office.
The guy who had been working with us quit for that reason, leaving me and Tolani, who didn’t have a problem with the new arrangement.
I mean, of course, working from home was more convenient. But working from her home wasn’t the worst situation either.
This, however, is the worst situation.
We had barely settled down at her home office when our boss started complaining once again about the arrangement.
Her reason? Sometimes, when she came back home from running errands, she met us sprawled on the settee watching a movie, or sleeping.
I mean, I understand what it must look like to an employer of labour to find her employees lazing around, doing nothing.
But cue in Maraji’s even though.
Even though!
What were we to do when we were tired and needed rest? And it wasn’t like we always had things to do. We are freelancers, for God’s sake, and sometimes, we don’t have much to do. What should we have done at those times but relax?
But my boss doesn’t care, she announced to me and Tolani one unfortunate Friday that we were moving to a co-working space the next Monday and that was exactly what we did.
We have been working at the co-working space for close to 3 weeks now and I still haven’t gotten used to it.
It still grates.
I hate the fact that, among other things, I can’t be myself in this place.
They have a resting area and all that – a well-decorated one that could induce sleep or inspiration; depending on what you are looking for.
But they must not have factored in my personality because there was no way I could relax in the midst of these many strangers.
At my boss’s house, I could sleep without any care in the world, drooling to an audience of one, or at most, two.
But in the co-working space, there are more people than I care to count and considering the nature of the place, new people are almost always trooping in every day.
You know what? I should probably stop calling it the co-working space – too many characters anyway.
The space is called Gidi Hub and it is located in the heart of Bodija in Ibadan.
The irony of a Gidi Hub in Ibadan is not lost to me and I sometimes wonder if that was what the owners were gunning for.
Maybe they felt it’d make a good marketing strategy. Or maybe they didn’t factor that in and the name is a total coincidence. I wouldn’t know, and it’s inconsequential to the story.
Gidi Hub is a large two-storey building that operates 24 hours.
Most people work the usual 9-5 like we do. But some people come in after the close of business to work overnight.
So, for an introvert like myself, Gidi Hub is the worst place ever.
And that’s probably why I didn’t notice him the first day and the days after until Tolani pointed him out to me.
I still remember the day like yesterday. I mean, it was just last week though.
You’d think with the way our boss was yapping about wanting us to look like a normal business, she’d be seated with us like other bosses.
But no, she still worked from her home office and simply came in a few days a week to check on us, and that, for a few hours.
It was one of such days that we were left on our own – on the 3-person table my boss paid for – that Tolani held onto my hand forcefully, calling my attention to something.
I looked up at her, ready to snap, because why was she holding on to me like the place was on fire?
“That’s him, she said, before I could protest. “The guy I’ve been telling you about.”
Yeah, she’d been telling me about him alright, but like everything that had to do with Gidi Hub, I hadn’t been interested.
Also Read: Short Story: The Cluelessness of Two
That changed though when I saw who she was pointing at walking towards us in simple blue denim trousers, a black t-shirt and white sneakers.
He was dressed simply but he looked like a million bucks. My first thought was that he has the stereotypical Yoruba demon look with his olive skin, average height, beard and flirty smile.
And my second thought was that his name was probably Femi or Jibola, he probably dealt in forex. And he probably smelt nice… He looked like an OUD customer.
And since the day Tolani showed me the object of her attraction, I have begun to notice him anytime he passes by. Like us, he is one of the regulars at Gidi Hub.
Besides the fact that he has a compelling presence, Tolani didn’t make it difficult to notice him.
Ever so often, when he passes by, she pinches me, giggling in excitement.
And to be honest, I understand her. If she hadn’t obviously called dibs, I’d probably be in her shoes.
But in true girl code culture, I leave him for her and take the comfortable position of her supporter, entertaining her giggles when she sees him and calling him, her husband, when referring to him.
We have both taken that unspoken position and are good. But it seems like Uncle Jibola doesn’t like peace.
He obviously likes chaos, because what exactly is he doing, asking me out?
Also Read: Short Story: The Monster of Ewelewe
