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Saturday, 8 July 2017

The Househelp from Hell


Rose

I flicked through the newspaper ad and shook my head in laughter. Wow. People require a lot of things!


I've surfed the Internet too in search of several cleaning jobs but all i could find seemed suspicious - so i turned to good ol papers.

An ad caught my eyes and made me sit up straight. "Househelp required. Daily wage- you will be fired if you misbehave. Apply within."

The contact address was described and i felt a wave of relief fill me. This seems to be legitimate.

And i felt more hope when i realized that it was even through a Househelp agency - frankly, i didn't know those existed.

I am a graduate of psychology from one of the most reputable universities in Nigeria, and all the high hopes i had as an undergraduate student were dashed when i finished school and realized that the world outside is harsh.

I looked for jobs everywhere, everyday and started getting desperate. Little by little, my standards started lowering.

I'd never think of cleaning or waiting on people, but gee, imagine how fast my pride disappeared when i had barely nothing to survive on.

I am basically a Nigerian version of a foster child. I lived like a maid with my aunt- my mom died during my birth and my father was nowhere to be found.

She grudgingly accepted me from the nurse's and as soon as i came of age, i started helping out in her big local restaurant.

It was from the tips i made that i was able to give myself an education - which she didn't care much for because she's a stark illiterate.

To be honest, she clothed me and fed me adequately, but i always felt like a stranger in her house.. To be fair though, she treated her own children exactly the same way.

I struggled very hard to excel - i wasn't a very bright student, but when i got admission to study in a university, i felt fulfilled.

Imagine my dismay when i couldn't land any jobs and my dear aunt frustrated my life at her restaurant.

She kept on lamenting that if i didn't go to university, I'd have gotten enough money to start my own business.

Right now, i sincerely regret spending all my savings on education. I wished I'd started my own food business - I'd be in millions now, and I'd be able to go to school later.

Her grating and mocking words won't end and this pushed me to become more desperate for jobs-any job that will take me away from that goddamn restaurant.

I rushed to the Househelp agency and my high spirits shattered. A lot of people were there and i don't even know how I'd make it at all.

I don't even know if anything is possible. I collapsed on a chair in tiredness. I don't even know what to do anymore.

Finally, my turn came. My stomach was heavy with nerves and i didn't know how to relax. I sent a quick prayer to the skies.

Oh lord, I'm super duper desperate for this job. I hope i get it. I do hope so. I pushed the door open and stepped in.

I took a deep breath and faked a confident step. I looked up and sucked my breath in, in shock.

I didn't know what i expected. Maybe a grandma or a smiley mummy looking somebody.

Sitting right in front of me is a god. Literally. He looked right at me or sorry, i meant my breasts.

These breasts are the bane of my existence. I've been dealing with em jugs since i was thirteen and it's been subject to a lot of gawking.

I sincerely hate the way it makes people think they know me- just because I'm busty. And trust me, their judgement is not nice.

And hey, where did you think i saved a lot from? Men literally fall into my breasts and tip me a lot just because i serve them-so i guess it's not such a disadvantage.

"You can sit" he drawled in a very lazy manner. I shuffled my feet forward and narrowly missed falling over.

I sat down and he still didn't look at my face. I began to get irritated. This is one of the most sexist bullshit I've ever had to go through in my life.

I mean, i won't offer a man a job just because of the size of his cock! "Your credentials".

I slid him my CV and began to fidget. It's not much, but at least, I'm a graduate. I hope that's enough edge.

He flipped through indifferently and then looked up. I could see him ready to dismiss me. I felt fear fill me. I can't go back to my aunt.

"I'm a hard worker sir, I'd do whatever it takes" For the first time, he glanced at my face.

I was gratified to see a flicker of surprise - for what, i didn't know.

"Open the front of your shirt and take out your tits.”
"What?” I choke out. I began to cough. That hit me like a ton of bricks.

" You said you’d do whatever it took. Do you need this job at all?” he drawled confidently. I felt anger fill me.

"I'm not a fucking prostitute!"
"Then, get out. I didn't ask you to prostitute. I asked you to show your fucking breasts."

"I don't fucking need a prostitute. I need to see those luscious headlights in person. I promise not to touch".

He gave me the most beautiful smile I'd ever seen.. "oh, by the way, I'm peter".

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