The initial indication that the day would be naughty was when my alarm clock would not turn on at 6:42 a.m. It was only through the loud coughing of the generator of my neighbour that I awoke in Akure within our compound with very thin walls. I simply lay there staring at my ceiling fan which was not rotating due to the common power cut.
“Ah. I am late," I said to myself, which raised me too quickly.
Today could not be the day to be late. My office had been warning everybody of punctuality and I already exhausted my warnings.
Missing another morning meeting would mean loss of my internship and that internship was what was left of the year to give me some hope.
I hurried with routine and took my bag and ran to the bus stop. The air stank of wet dust left by a slight snort. Okadas came by, honking as they went, like they were in some kind of a contest. I watched a bus being loaded: Alagbaka! Alagbaka straight and rushed to it.
My foot had slipped on a wet substance as I was stepping in. I leaped and banged on the door frame.
"Calm down, Guy, calm down," I said, shaking my head. “You go fall.”
I had to smile and got in. One small crisis avoided.
I was in the bus, and my thoughts were wandering. I continued to rehearse myself on what I was going to say at the meeting. My manager was a calm and strict lady by name Mrs.
Gbemisola, and she could not miss anything. She would be aware of my stuttering. She would tell whether I looked fatigued or not. She noticed everything.
The bus went a couple of streets further and then stopped once more. There was a weird coughing of the engine.
Everybody groaned.
The chief driver scratched his head. “Make una come down. The engine don off.”
Heads turned sharply. Someone hissed. One other man remarked, "God forbid bad this morning."
I checked the time: 7:32 a.m. The meeting was at 8:00 a.m. It was still a twenty-minute office twenty minutes away on an excellent day.
I leaped to his feet, and walked rapidly. Probably I might find another bus.
“Bro!” someone called behind me.
I turned. This was a man of the broken-down bus, some sort of a short man in a blue shirt and with a laptop bag. “You dey go Alagbaka too?”
“Yes,” I said.
“Come, let’s take bike together. We go share the fare.”
I hesitated. I do not like okadas; I am never comfortable with the speed. But time was running.
“Okay,” I agreed.
We flagged down an okada. The rider shook his head. “Two of una? The road still wet.”
Well, we can manage, the blue shirt man said. “Abeg.”
We climbed on. When the bike began to move I held by the back bar. The breeze slapped my face. We had beaten a long line of traffic, of school-children with their school-bags, of a roasted-corn vendor with her fire.
In the middle of it, the bike shook drastically. My stomach jumped.
“Oga rider!” I shouted.
“Sorry! Sand dey road here,” he said.
On getting to Alagbaka junction, I paid and jumped off. My legs felt shaky.
Waving at him, the man in the blue shirt. “We try, bro!”
“Yes! Thanks!” I said and hurried away.
At the office gate I looked again at the time: 7:58 a.m. Two minutes. I ran in and I could hear my breath rattling in my ears. I was at the door of the meeting room, and stood there.
Then I opened it.
Everyone turned. My manager gazed at me through glasses.
“You made it,” she said.
Yes, ma, I answered, attempting not to gasp.
“Sit.”
I sat back and engaged in the discussion. However, midway into the meeting, my phone was vibrating. I glanced at it. A message of the man in the blue shirt:
Bro, that bike we dropped just skidded three minutes since we dropped it. Rider no harm ha, but he fall well.
My breath caught. I looked at the message again.
There was a sort of relief and disbelief in me. I wondered whether we would have been on that bike still. I would have been injured, perhaps. Perhaps I would not be sitting in the chilled meeting room, faking concentration on budget figures.
I was brought back by the voice of my manager.
What is your opinion of this proposal, Tunde?
I straightened. “I… I think it looks good, ma.”
She nodded, satisfied.
I exhaled slowly.
The morning had done all it could to break itself, and yet, somehow, I was here--safe, on time and still with the internship that I needed.
Crisis averted.
Almost all office workers, when it comes to morning, are always fighting against time. This is my experience and my husband's experience. Your story is good. Nice to meet you.