The sun wouldn't let him be, but more than that, Malinga Allan hated their eyes; following him as he entered the building, all the way to the reception desk. "Good Morning, i am here to drop my application" More eyes, his heart was beating faster than it did when he had his first kiss back in high school, causing him to sweat more than his shirt could contain. Sweat marks around his shirts yet he spent his money on deodorants which promised to keep the sweat out even during hot times - thieves. The receptionist took her precious time to respond like all the others in the fifteen companies he had visited since unemployment hit home after graduation. It takes a while to realise an ACCA certification plus a Second Class Upper degree from the once-prestigious Makerere University doesn't necessarily guarantee one a job. "You can leave your envelope here". He quickly did as he was told lest she noticed his shaking hands and the growing need to escape their eyes. Unemployment; something he wished his lecturers covered, but all they told him was to read hard, "Get a first class, companies will be privileged to have you work for them" Read hard, he did, hard enough to miss all the drinking and partying that usually went on at campus. Well, he wasn't attractive enough to get the money-hungry campus ladies. "Lose your glasses, they make you look less-accessible and more of a geek", his sister often teased, but he couldn't care less for their opinions for he was focused on achieving his goals. Years after graduation he was still unemployed, broke and no less of a geek. The promises education offered all seemed to mean nothing in real life as it was all about connections and money. Jesus, to make millions, he needed millions and to get employed, he needed millions to pay off the Human Resource managers like most did nowadays. Out of the building finally, he thought of using a boda boda, but his wallet thought otherwise. The last thing he wanted to do was run to family for funds for not only was it wrong for him to do it, it was demeaning on his side. With five thousand shillings left in his wallet, a boda boda ride would cost him three thousand shillings to the Park where he would catch a taxi to his empty bachelor pad whose rent was wanting. He opted to walk the long route from Upper Nakasero to the Park with the sun baking his bald head and his shirt sticking more and more to his body. He made a mental note to purchase a new deodorant but money...
Menya Grace watched as another desperate sweat-filled ex-student left her desk. Being a receptionist was never her dream but dreams don't come true as life finds a way to stick the fuck-you finger in all your plans. If only the job was as good as the building that housed the company. Lined with wooden floors and glass windows, exquisite office furniture and a little bit of lighting to have you thinking you were in a hotel, it wasn't such a bad place to work. Her boss was a tough possessive animal who spent most of his time on phone making or receiving calls. For the 2 years she has spent at the company, he has fired about twenty secretaries over petty things like missing pens or speaking too loud in the office corridor. She wouldn't survive the sacking bag if she worked directly under him, but luckily he seldom paid attention to the receiption area. Word has it his wife left him because she couldn't stand his long hours at work and constant need for perfection. Once she overheard one of the guys from the PR department talking about how he changes drivers every week because he couldn't stand having the same person drive him around everyday. Away from his bad side, he was a sharp dressed man; always sleek in his double-breasted suits, top shelf and spotless. He always carried a vintage briefcase and a blackberry close to his ears. One thing that puzzled her about him was his calm voice even in times of panic. He was the type of man who could kill you while telling you to stay calm. "Relax, i'm not going to kill you" as he sharpens his knife. As excruciating as it was working for him, she was glad she had the opportunity to work for him, like all the people in this building. They all hated him but the salary and the massive benefits stopped them from quitting. Thinking of the devil, Mr Tumusiime Stanley, her boss, was approaching her desk.
“How many applications have you received today?” No greeting as usual, straight to the point.
“About fifteen”
“We are not taking anymore, tell everyone to meet me in the boardroom in ten minutes” By ten minutes, he meant five minutes and anyone who arrived after five minutes would lose his or her job.
Useless workers, all useless every one of them. If it was possible, he could do everything by himself. It is possible but then again, one can't run a big company without the exhausting support of useless people better known as employees! Their salaries all came from his hard work since they weren't good for anything just like his drivers and maids. Is it too much to ask for sanity at his own company? His doctor had prescribed a vacation - months away from everything. He cringed at the thought of leaving everything in the hands of the useless people who worked for him - no, vacations weren't for him, not in the least bit. Work is important, hard work is crucial. Work ended his marriage, but it freed him from another useless being better known as his wife, ex-wife. A lady who day in and day out worked towards achieving one goal, driving him crazy. Living alone has never frightened him, the less the better; one can't surround oneself with extra useless people. Receptionists, what do they do all day but sit in the same place and entertain strangers, politely? He doubts ever having looked at her face, her accent could do the job and that is all he cared about. The boardroom was basically a brightly lit room with a large table his ex-wife had picked out for the office. She came in handy once in a while, a few times, in the long years of marriage she would do something other than working on her appearance. Appearance didn't matter as much as money; it gave you power, it gave him power - power to fire anyone who would enter the boardroom five minutes late. He loved it. They were all in by the first five minutes, sadly he wouldn't fire anyone today. It's not that he loved getting rid of these useless people in front of him, it's that he wanted to surround himself with the best people in the industry, that excluded lazy dwanzies who couldn't respect time at the workplace. To surround himself with the best meant picking out the best people to fill the available vacancies - he didn't trust HR to deliver even the basic deliverables like employing the best. It is his company, only he can identify the best. Someone was chewing gum, chewing gum in his company; he stared with revulsion at him as he chewed on and on like a goat. He must have sensed eyes on him for he quickly excused himself and came back seconds later without gum. Insolent worm!! Another useless one he couldn't wait to add to the sack bag.
“Good morning, i believe you all received emails hours ago explaining your various roles in this meeting. Do we have anyone who did not receive an email? --Alright, can we do everything in the shortest time possible? You understand time is money, don't you?”
“Sir, there is a report i want you---
“Ambrose, how many times have i told you never to interrupt me when i'm talking? If you have something to tell me, something you assume i don't already know, you wait till i can spare a few minutes for you in my office, am i clear?”
“It is crucial sir ---
“For now our priority is finding the best accountant for my company, the rest can wait. Do you have a problem with that, Ambrose?” Useless useless empty heads, he cursed.
It was the perfect idea, so brillant that he, Wamala Henry, didn't have to think twice about it, well, like most of his other ideas. Ugandans were tricky to work with unlike Kenyans who are about five years ahead. They understand technology, they understood his works - his babies. Applications - Apps, he designed them specifically for Kampala - tools to help the everyday 'Kampalan' get through the city with ease, but did they understand him? Like his juice, 'Zenitah', a marvel made from natural ingredients, call it organic if you like, was supposed to make him millions. Why was he still stuck in a tiny office struggling to pay rent and barely coming up with enough to pay his employees? It takes time, he often told himself, soon his ideas will be understood and not by everyone, but by the upper echelons of society; the Sudirs, the Tumusiimes, the Bitatures - soon he will be a household name. He dreamed of the day he would be able to make a change but things were not likely to change. It all went wrong the moment people tasted his juice; awful, bitter, disgusting, worse than herbs, waste of money, they all said but he wasn't deterred from his dream for those who understood pure organic juice would truly appreciate his product. They did appreciate it, well, about two cups were sold everyday and that wasn't bad for a start but it's been three years! Without his Father's financial help every month, everything, his dream, would be nothing. He was ready for his big break but the world wasn't ready for him. If only he could get a sponsor - someone rich enough to understand his vision and most importantly to support it.
“Hello Ambrose, have you talked to him?” “What do you mean you are still TRYING?” “I need just one meeting with him--yeah, i know he is busy but i HAVE to talk to him mehn--- You are busy right now---, in a meeting---, alright, i understand.” If Ambrose couldn't do it, there was no use of a middleman anymore.
He couldn't stand it anymore. What did they take him for? He was an important part of the company, more than just an Assistant. Without him the company would be nothing, without his resilience, his hard work , his long hours put into making the company what it stood to represent, but what did he, Tumusiime Ambrose, get in return? Looking at his Father as he spoke into his BlackBerry, he couldn't hide his resentment. Being the only son out of a marriage that was doomed to fail right from the start didn't make things any better. For the past four years he has run this company and worked as a loyal lap dog only to have to beg for his Father's time. He at some point contemplated murdering him, but he was sure he wouldn't get a thing out of his will. Stanley, he rarely called him father, would rather give everything to some random street children than to him. Cold and bitter, he chose to work by his side where he could embezzle some company funds, but the old man studied the books religiously to a point that he'd sniffed out the crook Accountant before he could steal a cent from the company. Dead end, the old man was so clever and he was destined to be a lap dog. Like that wasn’t too much to deal with, he had to deal with Henry, the rat from his old campus days who thought Stanley was a light at the end of his tunnel. Crazy rat, he should give up already because Stanley wasn’t known for his charitable works. Then again, Henry could be his last chance to get some money out of the company. His balls twitched and they usually did whenever he came up with a brilliant plan. ***
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