Can we try again?

Fifty

The whole day went by really fast. They say time flies by when you're having fun.

And true, I was having fun. The whole prospect of having a new job was fun to me. It was thrilling, exhilarating. I still hadn't gotten over the surprise of it all.

But give me 6 months into the job and I know I'll end up being one of those people who constantly moan about their job, the group of people who look forward to Fridays and dreads when Monday approaches - the TGIF and 'I hate Mondays' people.

But for now, I'm going to enjoy every moment of it, while it lasts.

I had a wide beam plastered across my face the whole day, and it was very much warranted. When you've been unemployed for that long and the miracle of a job comes, one that pays quite well too, you will definitely do the same.

Angel, as Mr Attah promised, came round to help me with a few basic, (but not basic to me) stuff. She was a petite girl. Everything about her looked like she was a teenager, her stature, her face, the way she spoke. She sure would pass for a 16-year-old. But I knew she was older than that.  She wasn't outstandingly beautiful, but she was beautiful in her own way. Large eyes, small lips that revealed her crooked teeth, and killer dimples. She was a demure and quiet girl and when she spoke, her voice was soft and she seemed nice too.

"Hi, I'm Angel." She introduced herself to me with a smile. "Mr Attah said I should help you out today."

I acknowledged her with a smile too and followed her around as she showed me how to find my way around, even though Mr Attah had already shown me earlier. I just tagged along.

She showed me how to use the computer system, how to operate the printer. She told me where to find things around the offices. She took me to the communal room where the staff had their lunch. She didn't say very much as we trotted along the corridors, I had to prompt her by asking her questions. Only then, she'd give me the information I needed. She wasn't much of a talker, I noticed.

Finally, she took me to get my photo taken and then I was handed my ID card that I could use to access the system.

It was official.

I was bursting inside with excitement. I couldn't wait to spill everything to Oma. I didn't tell her about the job before now. I just wanted to be sure that it was for real, and that when they phoned me on Friday, they were not pulling my legs.

But now seemed like the right time to tell her, now that I knew it was for real.

Ijeoma and I haven't been in touch with each other for a little while now. Of recent, we haven't had much to talk about, which is quite unusual for the pair of us. We don't spend as much time together anymore, because of her work - and that, I totally understand. And on the occasions when we do talk on the phone, there is not much we can talk about; our conversations are always at some point punctuated awkward silences with both of us asking each other how we're doing even if we've already done so like five times.
For most of the conversation, she'd end up complaining about her job to me. At first, I thought it was fine, I wasn't too bothered about it. People do that all the time, don't they? But then at some point, I got fed up, and I couldn't take it anymore.

That day, she moaned continuously about a colleague, and then she moved on to her bald headed boss who's always 'bossing' her around and telling her what to do.

But Isn't that what a boss is supposed to do? Then she carried on about how she would have to call in sick and not go into work the next day.

And I was having a really bad day. I just had a couple of rejection emails, and my dad was causing more chaos in my life. I was temperamental, so, I was having none of that rubbish.
I snapped. I yelled, rebuking her for it over the phone.
How dare she? I was unsuccessfully hunting for a job and there she was moaning to me about the one she had. What kind of a friend does that?