HOMESTRETCH

They say if wishes were horses, beggars would ride on them. I wish I had finished reading the set book Homestretch by Velma Pollard, a Jamaican poet and fiction writer, while I was in high school. The blurb will work for now. I read a portion of it and given that I was not going to choose it as an option in my final exams, I chose to skive reading it due to pressure to read what is relevant (like now the pressure is piling to be very astute). Regretting it? I still have the opportunity to read it after my exams.

Exams are  fast approaching and I am finding myself less prepared than I was a year ago. The ground has shifted. Work has been the reason. What with working twice. A regular job and a part time job. The regular job resulted in the partime one (I mostly do it at night). When I was on the verge of being axed, I looked for an avenue of getting money once the regular job came to an end. It has taken forever for it to come to an end and that is basically why I have decided to make drastic decisions. Quitting.

I am on the homestretch of two things, the job and the impending exams. I have learnt my lesson the best way and the hard way. Never combine two pressure point if you are a man. You can never win in either. So the best thing to do is to sacrifice one at the alter of another. In my case, I am sacrificing my job now that it has been a hustle more than an addition towards making it. Well, I don’t see the reason for my continuity given that it has equipped me with the desired skills and pressure has been piling.

The exams are causing stomach spiders (Yikes). I am doing tests and evaluating myself and finding it crazy that I am not scoring what I should in terms of the bare minimum. That is why I have to really shorten my posts now.

I am not worried but I still feel that more time should have been added. It’s jinxy in as I mostly desire a favourable outcome..

Hasta La vista Baby.

[Picture Source: Pixabay]

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FATIGUE, REJECTION AND PERSISTENCE

Ever asked yourself what your colleagues think of you in totality?

Well, I have never been bothered about that until I decided to be serious about it. After doing some soul searching, I realized that there are those who probably think nothing about me. They have no opinion at all.

Others do and there is this lady who thinks that I am a brilliant chap who should not be wasting away doing that which people of my ilk should not be engaging in, really. Why? There is a day I went with her to aid in answering a career aptitude test in a cyber cafe in town. With regard to the questions they were testing, I thought it was one of the most misconceptualized (sic) technique of assessing a salesperson. Given that as a salesperson, what you thrive in is making sales through having a sweet and lethal tongue, the depth of the assessment was not that palatable.

Well, there were some mathematics that included both numerical reasoning and basic arithmetic operations such as quadratic and linear equations questions that needed that uncanny ability to crack. It also tested on solving riddles and the use of vocabularies that even though I write, I rarely come across or use them given their rarity. This was probably my first time seeing them given that I hate aptitude tests. What's the whole essence of this when you probably will sack the bugger in the next two or three months for lack of delivery. Especially if it a tiny firm that is a work in progress.

Again, there is also this lady who thinks I am young. When she heard that I am almost approaching thirty, she thought it was a lie. Well it is not. Given that she is probably past that, yet I am not fully decided whether I will marry or not. In my current state, the only thing I can think of is my well being. If an extra person comes into the equation, then the strain will be an addition to the strife that a struggling guy who associates with the middle class will be discernible. Yet am in that state where in the event they terminate my contact (its ending anyway in two weeks), I will be like, let me concentrate on passing the imminent exam. That is the white lie I usually tell myself.

Apparently, it is the ladies who have an opinion of who I am. The lady who cooks our tea asked me if I am married and I told her yes, complete with pictures yet am very single. You see, I had taken photos with my niece on different occasions, there was one we were seated on the driver's seat taking selfies, there was one we were in the house also taking selfies and there were a myriad others with her mum given that ladies love taking photos. Nowadays, she thinks I am responsible and chides fellow bachelors as she praises me for having prepared myself early enough. I wish she knew that sometimes I would have loved to be married but circumstances cannot let me. Exams, lack of motivation in the workplace and the fact that I no longer embody a person who is a role model to others. Am I worried? Not at all. Maybe things will change when the right time comes. Baada ya dhiki, faraja.

Then there are these lot of guys who think I am a spoilt kid and come from a well-off family. There is a guy who thought I would not last a year as a salesperson on this pretext. I have debunked that myth, he was sacked before I was. There is a friend who just called it quits and took off with a Shylock's lending (hahaha, life in the city can be a toll order). I almost paid with a pound of flesh. He currently resides in the countryside. 


When I told another dude that I am only carefree because I have targets to deliver as a banker on the sales front, exams to pass yet I have YTD variables that I have not met, and oh yes, the desire to settle down and start a family, he thought I was joking. That I have brothers and sisters who give me money when I am broke or when I ask for it. I only wish he knew how much more I would have loved to be able to even give my siblings who are unemployed even a G to make them feel the fruit of my labour. Those are the times I feel like crying, but am forced to laugh. Even the state my own mum is in, it makes me feel bad. I told her long ago that I will be removed from the payroll soon. She has waited for the day but sooner she will see it become a reality.

I love this guy who tells me that I am lucky to have papers and having gone to some of the best schools. Do I eat this papers? Do the schools pay my bills?The truth is I am on my own. I told him I will never take up another sales job no matter the pay as long as it is commission based. He still loves selling. He tells me that I need a management job. Mimi nikasema nataka kuwa kwa management, mimi?. Well it may be true but I need a skill that will make me a survivor. Can I survive now? Yes. But he is a good friend, he thinks that academic papers are vital, well to some extent they are. He was employed straight from high school, I am from campus. He performs better that I on the sales arena. When I recently went to seek for a transfer, I was denied the chance, but when he went, it was about being asked where he wanted to go. That's why I look up to him, yet he also looks up to me wishing he had cleared university and had the papers. Now we are equal. Right, he knows how to sell, I know how to juggle books and complex things that are not in my milieu at present. Need I brag about them. Nah!

Yet I have grown in tremendous facets. I only fear losing my mind thus far preventing me from being coherent and lucid. I fear losing my hand so that I cannot type and my legs to take me places. I have not worked smart, I have been like a leech. Couple of times I have told my immediate manager that I should resign because I am not filling the job anymore but two have encouraged me to stay. The rejection on this streets have made me energized. Do I fear losing a job? Hell no. I would only fear losing that job that will make me and make my mum happy. If I am happy, she will be happy because I will not be struggling helping her in engaging in an investment that will bring her some reliable income on a weekly or monthly basis.  

With rejection comes fatigue. I looked at a picture I took more than five years ago and I can tell that I have grown smaller adipose-wise. I used to have some chubby cheeks that are no more. My trousers are bigger now and I have been forced to increase the holes on my belt. But the strength to continue keeping on comes from forces that I am not aware of given that I also left going to church, stopped having strong feelings for the woman I thought I would one day marry and realized that its still fun writing. Employers come and go, some waste your time as you dedicate hours writing them love letters to accept you, others put you through assessments that will drain you emotionally and physically and what's worse, they send that rejection letter.

Please, as for the potential employer, I am not just searching for a job, I want intimacy, I want something called appreciation, but most of all, I am not going to take any job just to see to it that I have a job once I am axed from sales. Even though I would have loved to be employed with a good paycheck, that is no longer the driving force to warrant it. A good paycheck does not me satisfaction. It may also mean more debts like people who earn more than I do but still come to me for petty money.

The best thing is that I have never lost hope that one day things will change. I have always thought they will do. I sometimes feel for a certain pal. There was a lady who I heard describing him saying he has a masters degree yet he is struggling doing sales with meagre pay. That a pal of this pal of mine works as a manager in a reputable organization and can afford a loan that he can only wish he could be in a situation like that. He is also tired. I asked him the reason and he said he cannot attest to any development he has achieved. I can also say so about myself. That's why I am even confused whether what I am doing is right.

But all in all, the middle class is in a hullabaloo. We pretend we are rich yet we are not. As for me, I killed those pretense by also pretending I am looking for a better life in books yet it is just a way of avoiding facing the real behemoth that is called real life. At least, I can afford to forego lunch, not buy new clothes, wait past rush hour to board a mat, occasionally buy chips and chicken when I get paid (it's the best meal I can afford to tell the body thank you for having reached thus far).

Hasta la vista baby.

PS: I did ask the first investment professional if he is into investment analysis and financial modelling, he quickly replies yes. On the prospect of me meeting him to discuss that further, he was non-committal. In fact, he never replied back to that message till today. I guess this is part of the rejection that I have learnt to tolerate while also asking for business. I bet I know what businessmen go though. Remind me who was that who was rejected 1000 times, Abraham Lincoln. That’s a worthy consolation right.

[Picture Source: Google Images.]

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LIBRARY

Y

As a salesman, I normally go to various offices. There was one I went to and was given cake while waiting for a former colleague client and then there was this I went to this week where I had to continuously swallow saliva as I was explaining how a credit card works to a client who purposely wanted it for Easter yet she could not qualify having just been recently hired. Her adipose tissues never lied. Then I saw a lady delivering cake. The recipient asked how long it took but the delivery lady was very cagey about the time it takes to bake a cake. Well, I could have failed to notice about cakes but ever since my sister decided to pursue her love for things baked which includes cakes, I felt something pricking me to tell the buyer that it takes less than an hour for a cake to be fully baked. Yet the wiseacre in me could not blabber out because the delivery lady was also right.

When you factor in the time it takes to bake it, to let it cool down and the other logistics, the lead up time is what she said. That if you order for a cake in the morning, it will be ready by lunch time. These days, I have developed a sweet tooth for cake and when I could not be able to taste that which my prospective client was eating yet I had forgone lunch, I only remembered two songs, Juliani’s ‘Utawala: niko njaa hata siwezi karanga’ and AY’s ‘Zigo: kula kwa macho’

A former classmate who decided to immerse himself back into scholarship called me in early January about the prospects of going back to school to read as opposed to spending time in the house doing the same.  Well, last year I was contemplating doing the same. I went to Strathmore during one of my daily client meetings and inquired about the same having met the client and it appeared costly and less convenient for a guy who still hustles like yours truly, so I shelved the dream. I know the folly of reading while in the house. There is the temptation of sleeping occasionally because you are next to the bed. Not that you cannot sleep while in the library. Yes, you can. On the contrary, you cannot enjoy the slumber like you do while in a bed. The wooden table and the sitting position will literally force you to wake up. Again, the sentries who man the floors are usually hawk eyed and will pounce when they realize that you have turned the library into a bedroom. I love the library because of one thing. It is a good ground for doing that which you are supposed to do even when you are not feeling like.

I remember the decision to implement the idea of registering as an alumnus to access the library came at a time when I had been paid for the first month of the year. Hitherto, I had never thought I would be a night guy when it comes to reading. Normally, I am a morning guy. I can wake up very early and read because I am fresh and invigorated. The only problem comes in in terms of waking up. In order to wake up in time, my phone alarm has to ring more than three times. The first alarm notifies me that I am now supposed to get out of bed. The second aims at reminding me to wake up or it can act as the first when I have missed it. The third should find me doing that which I had tasked myself to do because they are normally five minutes apart.

Reading is fun and tasking. My pal and I went and paid for the alumni fee because I have not yet decided whether I will ever be a post graduate student in my alma mater or not. Plus, I don’t see the reason why I should acquire to many credentials given when none has been of much help in pursuing what I studied for proletariat-wise. As for what I am currently studying, in the event it does not secure me a job, I will be knowledgeable and probably venture into writing on the same if I finish. But I will do it on a small-scale basis. What I normally tell myself is that, if I cannot secure that position where I am currently at, then I don’t see the need of pushing myself looking for it somewhere else. You see, I am poor in securing interviews. I suck at the same. 


The only problem is that this position has got me into the meagre contentment mindset. I have myself to blame. Yet I should be having a humongous perspective about that which I should have achieved. Or it is just fate. Your circumstance is dictated by your past, naaah.

Well, initially I had thought that the process of being an alumnus was going to be a bureaucratic one like the other processes that is associated with the University of Nairobi. Apparently, being an alumnus is much easier than I anticipated. Once you have wired the necessary fees for the process, you send in your details and if you were using MPESA like we were with my pal, you also send the message from the network provider. Then you request the lady at the other end to send you an email of the letter detailing that you are now an alumnus which goes for two thousand and another two thousand for being able to access the library.

It took us less than one hour to finish the process. Or perhaps it was because the lecturers were on strike and we were lucky because the number of students who were in session then were few. Even though the dons had downed their tools, there were some lecturers who taught students irrespective of the fact that they were on strike in clandestine areas like the library where it was not easy to storm and disrupt the learning process.

Every day, I normally carry my laptop bag. This has been a signature undertaking and I must bear with it for the next two months even though it is sometimes heavy and I feel it takes a toll on my back. I love using my laptop as a reading station. I normally use eBooks because I don’t know the process of buying hard copy because of shipping but most importantly is the fact that my machine is the avenue for all the institute texts that I need to carry for the purpose perusal. I love it that way because I can also watch videos of challenging topics and kill two stones with one bird (reversed) when drained.

Yet I cannot say that all I do in the library is to thumb through the tomes. A huge chunk of the time is spent on the same but occasionally, I digress. That is the unfortunate tendency of having an extra sense that is synonymous to writers. You not only do what you intend to do but also look for that ka crazy thing that you will notice and others cannot or take for granted. Unfortunately, I never entered inside the library at Strathmore and hence cannot tell the difference between the same. Occasionally, I find myself staring at things I should not have. Like a there is a certain lady I have noticed who walks in high heels that accentuate her figure eight shape. She strides in such a manner so that even if you were immersed in something as mind boggling as derivatives, you still have to raise your head for a few minutes before embarking back when she has evanesced.

There is this lady I have never talked to who sits next to where I love positioning myself because it is really the only good place I can sit given that my laptop is now a pc and has to be on power each and every time. The other day, I saw her doing double integration and was contemplating asking her if she was a maths major or was doing statistics. However, another lady came and sat next to me and we did chat intermittently on skewed topics such as the Wi-Fi. I loved her because she is the don’t care type.

‘Excuse me, where can I find the ladies?’ she asked.

‘Just go along that corridor and you will find them.’ While pointing where the damn things were. I never had any imaginations of what she wanted to do. That is what you go through while busy trying to crack formulas and lengthy explanations while reading the CFAI eBooks. You become a zombie whose creativity is like a stillbirth.

While she was away, I peeped at the school id she had left and noticed that she was a postgraduate student. She was certainly curvaceous, the kind that does not fail to be noticeable in red fitting pants. She was chocolate in complexion and judging by what I could see on her laptop, she was probably a humanities student because she had long prose on her machine which she was researching on. 

Being seated next to two beautiful ladies can make you get those awkward thoughts (threesome huh!). You see, there are times when I normally want to remove my shoes and feel ‘haire’. Yet I could not. Not that my shoes effuse incredibly unpleasant stinking smell, it’s only right that the sweat that my socks emits after a hard day of labour is not let to odor the dusty and probably because who knows, I might be lucky. When seated next to a dude, I normally let my legs free from the scotching heat. It's like Zen.

What I however hate is the speed of the Wi-Fi. The speed is currently very slow. It is mostly limited more time than it is active. I hate this experience because there are times I am supposed to do tests online and when I have finished answering the questions, on clicking the submit button, there is no response and on careful look, the exclamation mark indicating limited internet is staring on my face. So poor is the network that you sometimes have to disconnect the Wi-Fi a couple of times just to be able to use it. In fact I got the password almost a month ago when I sat next to a certain dude and requested for the same and he willingly told me the password.

I love the seats on the ground floor. They are in good condition and as opposed to the seats in the other floors, you don’t feel like you are sitting on the wooded surface which is synonymous to most seats in other floors. They are fuller and for a flat assed bugger like me, the cushion acts like a reliable shock absorber. I guess were it not for the fact that those seats are cleaned occasionally, chances are they would have been a habitat of bedbugs because I know how the hostels in UON are like.

There are certain times when I normally feel like I have burnt out because of daily walking and then sitting in the evening to study. There are times I find myself pressing my head on the wooden desk and ask myself why am I subjecting my body to all the torture. Those are the times I find myself leaning back to the chair before gazing back to the table. Its perhaps those days that I feel weary both mentally and physically. My body needs to rest yet my mind needs it to move, to burn the anxiety right out. I have to cover as many topics as possible. There was this day I became bleary-eyed, fatigued and realized my thoughts were becoming groggy and incoherent. That was when I unplugged my pc from the socket without following the usually logging off process, pushed the chair back, grabbed all my paraphernalia and strode out of the library barely finishing three hours in the building.

Is there hope at the end of the tunnel when I finish this, albeit yes. The ultimate goal is to pass the exams after getting the knowledge. It has been and continuous to be a treacherous journey but I have never backed out. This is something I am sure is worth sacrificing for.

As I sit down writing this, I cannot rue that I have not done something tangible. I have done it and only wait for the result to demarcate mbivu na mbichi once I have done the exam.

PS: Nothing has changed much in the library I first entered more than seven years ago. It has not been upgraded to befit a postmodern library of international stature that the motto of the institution makes us believe. All in all, it provides the ambient environment that I can peruse in with minimal distraction.

Hasta la vista baby.

[Picture Source: Google Images]

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ROLEX TIMEPIECE

The first time I sat next to a certain man in a mat, who was snuffling and smelling of some queer substance, I thought that the smell and sniffling were synonymous to him given that he also looked haggard and irresponsible. The smell was the kind that irritates and since I had no option I had to sit next to him battling mucus which was also loathsome. It was a cold season and the rains were just as now. Those are the times you regret why you sat in between two people in a mat. A lesson I have learnt. I rarely sit between two people unless I am in a hurry. I love it when I sit next to the window. It’s more aesthetic because you have a chance to sample some of those things you rarely do and notice those things you overlook.

The other day, I also sat next to another gentleman who I noticed was sniffling and was smelling the same as the old fellow I had sat next to years back. This guy was not old though. At first, I thought it was the vehicle that was stuffy. But on closer scrutiny, I realized that the man I had sat next to was apparently oozing the indifferent smell which made me want to place my nose far away but that was impossible. Again, it’s the rainy season and given that I was from the library and needed to catch a mat as quickly, I had to condone the nauseating effusion given that I had no other option. Luckily, some passengers alighted and I quickly changed seats and to my relief, the slackening was one of a kind. It was tantamount to getting freed from the hands of an abductor.

Less than a year ago, I spent enough bucks to buy me a simple midrange smartphone to buy a watch. Well, as a watch aficionado, I thought it wise to have one given that I had always thought of buying one to match my new prospects in life. After so much convincing, I decided to procure one from a friend who used to sell me cologne and attar on credit while in campus though at a price because the same were cheaper in supermarkets and other outlets in town.

When you are in a sales job, you must reach as many people as possible to be able to get those sales. As a rookie, I started with friends and relatives. The much I achieved from them was nothing much to talk home about. Then this salesman friend of mine came. I had thought he had transitioned into a white-collar professional, but looking back, he still was the same old guy, those of business as usual. Luckily, he was able to get things right and had gained some pounds over the years.

Then one day, he told me that there was this priest who he was in school with who had told him to market for him watches given that he was good at the act. I guess that was just a ploy in convincing me to buy into his argument that the watches were imported and designer. I could tell he was lying. Only that he brought me what I needed and at the right time and place. So, for his troubles, I took a brand new fake Rolex watch from him. The kind of watch you unwrap from like you do a new bicycle given that it is covered with polythene (well, if the policy on polythene is implemented, this stuff will be no more). When I first wore the watch, which was oversize, I felt some tinge of importance. I am now the proud owner of a Rolex watch. Ain’t it an achievement.

Before buying the product, I was first introduced to it. He came with it and convinced me that it was a genuine watch from Italy and hence I needed not to worry about the authenticity (Mpaka hapo hata mimi nilikuwa tothi tu saaaaana). Never mind that I knew he was into fake stuff given that he used to sell me perfumes that made me doubt whether they were concocted somewhere in River road or the chemical contents had been esterified in a certain developing country known for generics. This watch has now become a white elephant. It has barely served its purpose.

Though the watch is no more, it was a one of a kind timepiece. It was elegant and traditionally stylish, those who saw it admired it because it never used a battery, and was powered by ETA quartz. It looked golden and sleek and was designed to match any outfit, even casual. Though oversize, it made me feel proud and professional. The dial was crisp, antireflective and made in a way so you can see the quartz that powers your watch. I loved the hands because the watch come with an elegant push-button deployment clasp. It was also made of glass from beneath so that when you are bored you could marvel at how the quartz are moving.

You see, having had ambitions to be in the investment industry, a Rolex watch was inching me close to joining the reclusive profession full of insider information that is never released to the public lest it leads to the collapse of some S&P giants of the world. Well, as opposed to those who join the industry, I was having my fake Rolex, sad but I later learnt the hard way.

Before I bought it, I remember googling to find out more gen about it. It was being sold in India for some rupee which was translating to something less than what I paid for it by about a G after doing conversion of currency. Since this was a unique chronometer, I paid premium for the brand and perhaps the cost of shipping it to me. Barely a week later, the watch was hibernating. That’s when I realized that the fake thing I had brought was not going to last long. The seller told me that it was characteristic of a ‘majira’ watch to lie dormant when it was not in motion. And true, instead of using a battery, it relied on generating its own energy to power the watch. In most cases, this is done through harnessing the kinetic energy generated from the movement of the wearer. The less you wear it, the less energy the watch gets and so the less accurate it becomes.

Every morning, like a jalopy, I had to start it by vigorously shaking it up for it to wake up. Afterwards, I had to set it again using my mobile watch for it to be accurate. During the day, it would lose network and stop working I thought it was a dame who had issues. When I inquired from the seller, he told me that that was the way a time piece that does not use battery behaves. I accepted the vibe though I doubted the efficacy of his word.

“Hizi ndio zile watch hukaa for fifty years unaachaia vitukuu.” He told me.

What I had bought thinking I would give my old man is now lying idle gathering dust having refused to work because the majira has gathered moss. The glass back also shattered into shards leaving the underneath exposed. It reminds me of the dreams I had. It gives me hope that one day I will have a Breitling, or a genuine Oyster Perpetual Datejust. I saw the unboxing of a real one a generic one on YouTube. Guess thats the price to you pay for being average. My dreams are still vali.

Moving on

In the meantime, I have followed numerous watch pages on Instagram and Pinterest. They are a reminder that I will own just a luxurious watch as I had imagined. Obviously,  when money will not be a problem,  a $10000 watch will be on my wrist. Hitherto,  I am still mourning my Rolex. I have to stare at it because it serves no purpose on my arm other than it being a jewellery.

Hasta La Vista Baby.

[Image Source: Pixabay.com]

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MY GRADUATION PICTURE

My mum and dad love me. There is no doubt. They are happy their son is employed by one of the best and biggest banks of eons in the country. Their happiness is signified by the pictures they keep of my sisters and I on the wall (both in the city and shags) after graduation. They are hopeful, that one day their son will get out of the woods and help them erect a decent structure from the semi-permanent one they live in. That they spent more on education is no lie. Yet, this act of repaying them is taking too long. I can tell that they would really want that in me. That's the reason why I have to keep on keeping on hoping some day,  the gates of plural will secede to my bonanza.

Every time I go to visit them and my pockets are bleeding, I feel like, have I let my peeps or myself down. Well, it’s now three good years since I left campus. I look at the achievements I can be proud of and realize I have a blog, my family, and now a job. A job I stick to hoping another will find me in it. But it is because I hate being a jerk. In fact,  I am in a frictional kind of unemployment.

There are times I thought I would never secure a job. I prayed to God and he answered my prayer. Now, it’s not about the job anymore. It's about breaking even. I have lost drive,  ambition and motivation of why I wake up everyday. Yet I still have to do it. Well I don't know who to blame. I think I have myself to blame because I have not been able to take the bull by its horns.

I love music. Why lie, the kind that is stale to some but soothing and easing. I am not the kind of message guy now. I am the kind who loves the energy that music instills. At least, I can forget about my woes in a while. I find relaxation in getting to read sometimes with my earphones on nodding to  magical nature that is music. Reading is boring but answering questions is even more boring.

About that snap. If I had the will, I would have gone and removed it from my peeps walls till that time when life will have metamorphosed. I wonder what those many visitors normally ask my peeps. Where does your son work, has he got a breakthrough ever since? Or is he just another leech? What answers do they give. He has just started out. You know in this world you must start from somewhere. He is also still in school. In college. When he finishes in a years time. He will be in a position to fend for himself and a lady because he is aging. We need grandchildren from him. He is the next in line to ensure this lineage is existential. We still pray that things will turn out right for him. He is our son. We still look up to him. But he is not also in a hurry to get there.

Apparently, I have passport copies of those pictures I took. I wrote somewhere about the day on this blog. They are in my wallet. Once I was showing a colleague at work and out of the woods, our then branch manager came and found us in the act. And because I used to have this kind of bizarre relationship with the lady colleague, he used to be of the opinion that we are or should be dating. That day I felt red. Yet, I was not even thinking of dating at that point. There was so much in my head now as then and I let it go because that is the best thing to do.

When I look at it, I see a person who was just doing another thing that society requires us to do, go to school, get that degree then come out and start looking for work. Up until now, I have never thought of using the degree. My current job requires a person to be a form four leaver, but requirements have been reviewed in other banks to peg the qualification to a university graduate. All these other certificates are just a by the way. They are like that graduation picture which has and makes me feel indebted yet when I think that there is nothing I can do about it, I feel like I should now start having dreams. Valid dreams that should take me to another level. Well, you know what, creating networks is more easier here than any other job once you get it right.

Hasta La Vista Baby

[Picture Source: Google Images]

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