In 2010, I was job hunting when I got invited for an interview with this uk org. that was trying to establish in Lagos Nigeria. THe interviews kicked off after a test. The first was at this restaurant called Bungalows on the Island. I have no idea if this restaurant still exists and I have not asked to avoid feeling unbearably old just in case. Anyway I remember ordering plain old cranberry juice.
No I did not have a UTI. I must have spent the entire time casting longing glances at some dude’s Heineken across the room.
When the q&a session ends, the interviewer whose name is Hilary and seems like a nice guy, asks if I am the last child. “Ermmmm yes.” I nod, definitely weirded out in case he asks me to hold out my palms so he can tell me my future.
He smiles and nods in assent like he is the Dalai Lama and goes very quiet. Why do people do that anyway? When you ask a scary question, try indicating the situation by explaining why…or shut up in the first place.
Anyway I grab the reins and I ask why and he responds with ‘because you last children tilt your heads while talking.’
“What? I tilt my head and nobody told me?
Hilary and his company ends up offering me the job, we haggle over pay, and then his cofounder brings me down to earth when he calls me one night, asks for us to meet and ‘do what adults do’ because as he said, he gets to make the decision.
Poof, job offer gone.
I might start a blog where people come and post anonymously about employers sexual harassing them. I could start it but I will not run it…and I think these bloggy thingies actually require running. The experience was part of what inspired me to start http://www.eatprayoverachieve.com
Anyway this brings me to the position of children again. These days the universe is trying to tell me something about a second baby and I get to think more about it.
How do second children cope sef? Like really? It’s amazing how everyone advocates for a second child to help mature the first kid. It’s like the answer to everything on this side of the pond. If Baby C doesn’t use his potty, if he throws a tantrum, if he isn’t sleeping enough… I wonder how secondborns feel knowing that they were probably born to be the ultimate human toy for their older sibling-I think people should only have children out of love and no other reason. But then I also think the inventor of jollof rice is a fraud, we could have got along with white rice and stew just fine.
Middle children, they are the luckiest of the bunch. Almost no pressure at all. They grow up playing the role of peacemaker and they know how not to be seen. This is probably why they make such great diplomats.
Lastborns are always called the luckiest but we are not. We might not get flogged as much as firstborns but we have got the sense of entitlement thing locked down! We get to laze around, ask for anything (we might not get it but unlike the firstborns, we won't get slapped for asking) and we basically exist to entertain Saturday guests. Probably why we love to be the center of attention...
Firstborns, carriers of the weight of the world, backs stooped with dreams of valour, I salute you. Una dey try! How you guys handle the pressure is beyond me. I'm sure you guys have tremors when you hear the words 'role model'
This post is dedicated to Baby C, Mr H, Bro. Folu and my dad. All three of the sweetest firstborns alive.
P.S: Happy anniversary to Membrane books and Paper boys. Yup, that's what this blog is called. It just turned 1 and I can now contemplate potty training it so it can stop crappng all over my carpet of work. Gosh, that did not come out the way I intended! I've been desperately trying to write something smart that may be adopted as a quote when I'm dead and help to immortalized me but no such luck. Maybe something will turn up.
Or maybe I will just have another baby and name him Poseidon.
And then he can get invited for a play date with Kelly Rowland's son Titan...
Feel free to share your experience if you read this post and you have ever been sexually harassed while job hunting.