A few years ago, Gbolahan accepted a job offer at a law firm in the heart of Ikoyi, Lagos. It wasn’t his dream job, but it did save him from brooding on his friend’s couch in Lekki while everyone else was out earning a living. In any case, Gbolahan’s friend was fed up of giving him handouts and Gbolahan himself was tired of having to ask for them. But soon after he started at the law firm, Gbolahan realized that the information he had gotten about his new job (largely from the firm’s website) was bogus—that there were far fewer staff than represented on the firm’s letterhead, and that the office space was much smaller than the managing partner had indicated during the interview.
And yet, these were not his most pressing concerns. At work, the managing partner had a habit of making condescending remarks that made Gbolahan question his own abilities. His lunch breaks were frequently cut short, his salary was delayed on multiple occasions (once, he received a post-dated cheque), and he was under constant pressure to bring in more clients, despite the fact that he had just moved to the city and he knew virtually nobody.
At the end of his three-month probation period, it became clear to Gbolahan that his managing partner was looking for excuses to not increase Gbolahan’s remuneration. Instead, the partner casually stated that Gbolahan’s output ‘had not been up to standard’, despite Gbolahan working the longest hours and even carrying out multiple roles from time to time. Knowing what was coming, Gbolahan waited for the close of business one humid Thursday, cleared his desk, and formally resigned. It took him three months to rebuild his self-confidence and begin drafting cover letters to attach to his resume once more.
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