Chuka had just completed his NYSC, the proud owner of a certificate and a growing list of job rejection emails. Back home in Enugu, he wore his freshly starched khaki one last time to remind himself that at least someone had once believed in his potential — the Nigerian government. One sunny Thursday morning, after a long trudge from another "We’ll-get-back-to-you" interview, he stopped at a small café to drown his disappointment in a plate of jollof rice and pure water. That’s when he saw Amara. His secondary school crush. The girl who used to borrow his notes but never returned his feelings — or his Technical Drawing textbook. Now, she looked like a magazine cover: business dress sharp, nails clicking on her iPhone, and walking with the confidence of someone who could fire three people before lunch. "Chuka?" she said, tilting her designer sunglasses down. He almost choked on his rice. They caught up quickly — Chuka nervously adjusting his shirt to hide the This is Nigeria slogan — and Amara dropping words like "My PA" and "my team" and "Let’s do brunch." Then came the twist. “I actually run the HR department at GigaCom now,” she said with a sly smile. “We’re hiring.” Chuka nearly jumped out of his chair. “But I don’t want to mix things up. You know… business and pleasure.” She leaned in closer. “Unless we make it official. You and me.” Record scratch. Chuka’s heart skipped a beat — not from romance, but fear. He had a girlfriend, Ada, a loyal, sweet woman who once washed his NYSC boots with her bare hands. But GigaCom? That was the job of dreams! Air-conditioned offices! Monthly salary! LinkedIn clout! He laughed nervously. “Are you… joking?” Amara smiled. “Half. But the job’s real.” That night, Chuka paced his room like a man preparing for war. He considered calling Ada and confessing, but how do you say "Baby, my old crush wants to give me a job... in exchange for my dignity"? The next day, he showed up at GigaCom. Amara welcomed him like a queen receiving a subject. She handed him a form and said, “Just say the word. HR is ready.” Chuka stared at the form like it was a pact with the devil. Just then, he heard a voice. “Chuka?” He turned. It was Ada. In a suit. Wearing a staff ID. He blinked. “You work here?” he croaked. She smirked. “For three months now. Amara’s my boss. I knew she had a thing for you, so I asked her to test you.” Amara walked in, cackling. “Girl, your man held strong for a whole day. Not bad!” Chuka looked between them, jaw open like an old generator. “Wait. This was a test?!” Ada crossed her arms. “Passed… barely.” Amara handed him the form. “Welcome to GigaCom. HR Assistant.” Chuka sighed in relief, sat down, and then realized… “Wait, what’s the salary?” Amara smiled. “N45,000.” Chuka fainted.
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