Our branch manager was a woman and I was a mere teller at the time of this event. This was because I had taken a break from the corporate world to have my children. By the time I returned, even though I was a master’s degree holder with a couple of professional qualifications, there were no jobs. So, I settled for the role of a teller, hoping to move up in the ranks.
Fortunately for me, my husband does rather well. He is the Chief Financial Officer of a multinational, and that meant that I lived well above the average teller. Not just that, I drove the same car as the branch manager, and I even had a driver like she did. I didn’t plan this, but it happened that way and I could not live lower than my standard.
When I noticed the way she looked at my driver every time he brought me lunch, I told my husband to let the driver stop taking me to work and I began to drive myself with the smaller car we had in the house for errands to the market and other running around for the family. This was all to please my boss since I'd learned early that it was an unwritten rule in the workplace not to outshine one’s boss.
One Friday, at about 2 p.m. when we were attending to the last set of our customers, she sent one of the cleaners to call me. When I got to her office, she was on a personal phone and it sounded like a conversation between friends, so I thought I could go back later when she was done with her call.
I signalled to let her know I would return, but she flicked her fingers toward some money on her table that was wrapped in a piece of paper. I picked up the cash consisting of one N500 note, two N200 notes and one N100 note.
Immediately I picked up the money, she waggled her finger at me to leave her office and I did.
By the time I got to my seat at the counter, I had unwrapped the money and seen that the paper was a note that had a list.
I read the note in shock.
“Bimpe, take the money to the market. Buy 'soko' vegetables - N300, iru – N50, rodo – N50, half a kilo of fish (shawa) – N400. Use the remaining for transport.”
I was appalled, angry and confused. It was obvious she was trying to degrade me, but more than that, I knew she wanted to start a trend with me.
We had cleaners and office assistants we all sent on menial tasks like this, but I knew this was not a real errand, it was mere power play.
I racked my brain for a way to put an end to it, but I was too angry to think, so I called my friend, Christie, who worked on the counter beside me. I took her into the ladies’ room to show her the note.
After laughing for what seemed like forever, she said, "She is just testing you, and if you fall for it this time, she will keep doing it till she turns you into her personal market woman."
I knew Christie was right. After all, I had come to the same conclusion on my own. The boss also knew I had a car, so telling me to use her change as transportation was like rubbing my nose in the mud all over again. If it were a real errand, she could simply have asked me to please help her send one of the cleaners or messengers.
This was over two decades ago and at a time when people were not as professional as they are now, so I couldn't possibly simply refuse the errand. But I also needed a way to ensure she never did it again.
While I was ruminating and pacing, my criminally-minded rascal of a friend had come up with a plan.
I would stay in the ladies’ room and she would make it conspicuous that I was out of the office (I didn't know how she planned to do that). After a short while, I would 'return' from the market and tell her I couldn't find what I was sent.
When Christie told me her crazy plan, I thought it wouldn't work, but she bamboozled me into agreeing and we set things in motion.
I waited in one of the toilet stalls while she walked back to the banking hall and began 'gisting' in a loud manner how someone (our boss) was planning to cook watery vegetable soup for her husband that night with nothing but 'oku eko' (meaning Lagos corpse, which is how frozen fish was described at the time). She said it in such a 'gossipy' manner that everyone knew whom she was referring to.
Meanwhile, I was in stitches in the toilet. The reason I was laughing so hard was that everyone knew Christie was a natural troublemaker, but she was so damn efficient and brilliant too. She was short, and pregnant at the time, and no one liked to be on her bad side, including our boss.
I knew Madam could hear her from her office, but she would never confront Christie or openly antagonise her, so it was a funny situation.
After almost 30 minutes had gone by. I came out and headed straight to Madam's office. I met her seated, and when she noticed me walk in, she looked up. I gently placed the money on her table with the folded paper and told her I didn't find vegetables to buy in the market.
"What?" she said.
"Yes, madam. I couldn't find vegetables to buy in the market. Fish sellers are on strike, I don't know what is called Iru and I only saw green pepper in the market," I replied before turning to leave her office.
My response must have shocked her because she made no attempt to call me back, she just sat frozen in her seat.
I was ecstatic. By the time I got to the banking hall, news had gone round, thanks to Christie.
It was well past the closing hour and there were no more customers in the bank, so when I recounted the response I gave her, everyone burst into laughter, which was how she met us when she came to the hall.
Of course, she couldn't possibly ask what we were laughing about, but she could read the room and see that it was all about her.
The most fulfilling part of the whole experience was that she never attempted to cross paths with me anymore. Not that she could anyway because a few months after the incident, I got a job at a new generation bank with a fatter salary package where I could also drive whatever car I wanted.
The twist? My new bank branch was adjacent my old bank, so I got to drive past her every day with my driver. I was my own madam again, and there was nothing she could do about it.
Phew, what a boss!
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