The noise came in banging on my head. I had slept on the thought of being jobless, the noise was getting closer. Immediately, I popped up from my rusty looking mattress. Then I noticed the song came from a neighbour who parades himself as a DJ.
Shioor wildest dreams
The conversation running through my mind was far from hunger. I had visited jobs over the week. Yet the least i could get was:
Secretary: Mister, we gonna get back to you.
Me: Hell yea, my background check jeopardizing with my future again!
Relentlessly, nodding my head to the mix. Trust me I had no choice. I was revived with the thought of hunger, with no resistance I grabbed my knicker for coporate begging scheme. Then I was mobbed with the smell of gbana. Well, sanity still exist in insanity. My first branch was Mama J corner, the look on her was inviting despite owing her. My vocubulary was her turning point. After thirty minutes of invalid gist, she was cracked up with word blow haha(BROUHAHA). Nevertheless her garri flakes need no sugar.
I got home with instinct questioning my ability of not getting a job because of street syndrome? Then, I muscled up courage towards having tutorial for students. Well, difficulty in getting fee which I never prioritized didn’t hinder my good faith with the teaching. Afterwards, success came knocking. The recycling moment drives down to the memory lane of getting interviewed and being rejected. Fighting for background check discrimination was never an option, Perhaps resuscitating our street dreams.