<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-50444862352948690</id><updated>2012-02-23T19:55:38.424+01:00</updated><title type='text'>NAIJA BANK GIRL</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://naijabankgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/50444862352948690/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://naijabankgirl.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Che</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12087573646392976170</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-JT6F9_ZCN8Y/TxHgrK4rJEI/AAAAAAAAAE4/OqNxMovz6PQ/s220/sexy%2Bshoes1.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>30</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-50444862352948690.post-6155512813679301425</id><published>2012-02-05T21:28:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2012-02-05T21:28:55.460+01:00</updated><title type='text'>THE BIG CHOP</title><content type='html'>Hi people, hope your weekend has been great. I had been nursing the idea of cutting my hair for a while now. This was prompted by an incidence that happened at the salon two months ago. I had gone to the salon to remove my&amp;nbsp;weave-on&amp;nbsp;and wash my hair. I didn't meet the usual girl that does my hair at the salon and the owner of the salon was also not around. I was left at the mercy of the lady that i met there who I didn't&amp;nbsp;realize&amp;nbsp;was a novice on the job. I'm this kind of person that likes to stick to a particular salon and a particular person or people attending to my hair. So when I got to the salon and met *Lucy, even though I didn't know how good she was in handling hair, I felt that since it was just to&amp;nbsp;lose&amp;nbsp;my weave and wash my hair, that nothing could go wrong. If only i knew. ........&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I&amp;nbsp;realized&amp;nbsp;all was not well when she was taking longer than usual to comb my hair after washing it. You know the usual drill of wash the hair with shampoo, condition it, comb it out with the&amp;nbsp;conditioner&amp;nbsp;still in the hair to soften it and wash finally. After the final washing off of the conditioner, oya, babe comb my hair na. She kept combing the back hair and it just wasn't straightening. I put my hand there and i felt massive tangling of my hair. I froze. I felt it again to know if i could detangle it, but it was really bad. I told her to put more conditioner on that part and leave it for a while to see if it would soften it and aid the detangling. While we were still looking for a solution, her boss *Linda came in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Once Linda saw what had happened, she quickly took over and tried to salvage the situation. But the damage had already been done. My hair was badly tangled at the back. Linda took her time in detangling it, but by the time she was through, i almost had no hair there again. :-(.. *Lucy was by the corner crying and&amp;nbsp;apologizing&amp;nbsp;to me for the mess done to my hair. In as much as I was angry that my hair had just been damaged, I felt sorry for her and didn't even have the strength to scold her. Besides, her Madam had done enough scolding for the both of us. There and then, I decided that sooner than later, I would have to chop everything off. Linda was so angry at her and they kept on&amp;nbsp;apologizing&amp;nbsp;to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had been postponing the day of the big chop because I hadn't gathered enough courage to go for it. I finally decided to have it done today. I went to a salon in Surulere where I know the guys are good with the scissors. I was scared because I didn't know how I would look after the whole thing. I almost felt like crying when *Akin was chopping my hair off. At the end of the day, he gave me a good Anita Baker hair cut and I simply love my new look. :-).. It makes me look much younger and I kindda feel liberated not having to worry about fixing weaves and braiding my hair for a while. I wish I could put up some pixs of my new look, but i still love my anonymous status. :-D.. I can just imagine the surprised look on the faces of my colleagues come&amp;nbsp;Tuesday,&amp;nbsp;LOL.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh well, enjoy the one day holiday. Do i love this surprise public hols or what? :-p&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Huggsss and Kisses&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/50444862352948690-6155512813679301425?l=naijabankgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://naijabankgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/6155512813679301425/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://naijabankgirl.blogspot.com/2012/02/big-chop.html#comment-form' title='45 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/50444862352948690/posts/default/6155512813679301425'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/50444862352948690/posts/default/6155512813679301425'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://naijabankgirl.blogspot.com/2012/02/big-chop.html' title='THE BIG CHOP'/><author><name>Che</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12087573646392976170</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-JT6F9_ZCN8Y/TxHgrK4rJEI/AAAAAAAAAE4/OqNxMovz6PQ/s220/sexy%2Bshoes1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>45</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-50444862352948690.post-4710636686162941206</id><published>2012-01-28T23:36:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2012-01-28T23:36:39.460+01:00</updated><title type='text'>RANDOM FUNNY ISHHHH</title><content type='html'>I love to laugh and whenever I see funny pictures that can be saved, I do so, so I can always go back to them and have a good laugh. So below are some funny pictures I saw and saved. Laughter makes you look younger and reduces the wrinkle lines on your face (so says therapist Che :-D ). Enjoy:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-MaVgnC5A7ps/TyRmMkNj_8I/AAAAAAAAAF8/NAP7Vc5YYSU/s1600/bb+funny.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-MaVgnC5A7ps/TyRmMkNj_8I/AAAAAAAAAF8/NAP7Vc5YYSU/s320/bb+funny.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I remember when there was BB craze in naija. If you met an insecure babe, somehow in the course of your gist, she would mention that she uses a BB phone and not just that, she would even specify the kind of BB phone it is. All in a bid to prove that she is a gbo gbo bigz gal. *smh*. Phone na phone jare, weda na Nokia or BB candle ^_^.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-2X5fylezm3c/TyRpw0CmYyI/AAAAAAAAAGE/ZGB_lkfx0C4/s1600/Book!.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-2X5fylezm3c/TyRpw0CmYyI/AAAAAAAAAGE/ZGB_lkfx0C4/s320/Book!.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Have you ever studied for an examination and when it was time to "pour it all out" in the exam hall, you forgot almost if not everything you read. That happened to me i think while in my first year in the university. I had crammed as much as possible while reading almost all through the night. Ohhhh, boi, it wasn't funny at all when I got to the exam hall, saw the questions looking like greek and went blank. I was able to write a few things but didn't do so well in that paper. It taught me a lesson though, never to cram, but read and understand. After that too, I tried to start preparing for my exams early in the semester, but that didn't really work for me. Somehow, I still had to do T.D.B (reading till day break). :-)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-JOeQXaEsPiE/TyRrzdJtfBI/AAAAAAAAAGM/qh9y_Qh5yEU/s1600/english.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-JOeQXaEsPiE/TyRrzdJtfBI/AAAAAAAAAGM/qh9y_Qh5yEU/s320/english.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Imagine if you were taught English by this woman. LMAO. I can even picture her answering the headmaster very confidently. LOL.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-t-rBN5o3Pco/TyRs-K0XKBI/AAAAAAAAAGU/jCv6Vw3gkQ4/s1600/funny.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-t-rBN5o3Pco/TyRs-K0XKBI/AAAAAAAAAGU/jCv6Vw3gkQ4/s320/funny.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Check out this babe's pose. :-)..Now it seems as if this babe has got her life all figured out. I chose to believe that girls don't think like this. That would be hilarious to me oo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wfJAVKhShMk/TyRxFiZT5vI/AAAAAAAAAGk/s-GasVXQCbI/s1600/vry+funny.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wfJAVKhShMk/TyRxFiZT5vI/AAAAAAAAAGk/s-GasVXQCbI/s320/vry+funny.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Did you ever have to be dragged to go to church as a kid. Nowadays, we don't even need to be dragged off our systems to go to church. You can take your mobile devices to church. It pisses me off when I see people answering calls or pinging in church. I just don't get it. I always wonder if such people can't sacrifice an hour or two of their time to be in church without fiddling with their phones. You might say the call is very important and so had to be answered, I hear you. If you go for a job interview, i bet your phone would be on silent mode because you respect the interviewers and you don't want to be distracted. That important call can be made later after church. That's just my opinion.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Will put up the remaining pictures in my next post.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Y'all have an awesome time in church tomorrow.&lt;br /&gt;Huggssss and Kisses.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/50444862352948690-4710636686162941206?l=naijabankgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://naijabankgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/4710636686162941206/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://naijabankgirl.blogspot.com/2012/01/random-funny-ishhhh.html#comment-form' title='35 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/50444862352948690/posts/default/4710636686162941206'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/50444862352948690/posts/default/4710636686162941206'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://naijabankgirl.blogspot.com/2012/01/random-funny-ishhhh.html' title='RANDOM FUNNY ISHHHH'/><author><name>Che</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12087573646392976170</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-JT6F9_ZCN8Y/TxHgrK4rJEI/AAAAAAAAAE4/OqNxMovz6PQ/s220/sexy%2Bshoes1.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-MaVgnC5A7ps/TyRmMkNj_8I/AAAAAAAAAF8/NAP7Vc5YYSU/s72-c/bb+funny.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>35</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-50444862352948690.post-6865394360193074381</id><published>2012-01-23T23:00:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2012-01-23T23:00:40.794+01:00</updated><title type='text'>IN LOVING MEMORY OF MY MUM</title><content type='html'>Today is my mum's birthday. Yaaaaayyyyyyyyyyy. *dancing around* but I suddenly&amp;nbsp;become sober&amp;nbsp;. You would have been 60 years today mama, but you had to take a trip to heaven because you needed to rest. We miss you sooooo much, but we are learning to live without you. Daddy is waxing strong and we are taking very good care of him. You have three absolutely lovely grandsons now mum. You would be super proud of them and they would have enjoyed your company. You would especially love *Bunna. He is such a dramatic kid especially when compared to his brother *Ikem who is such a peaceful and plump darling. And they are both dark like you. :-). *Osato is a really playful baby and is fair just like his Aunty Che. ^_^.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Smpctez75RA/Tx3CLTpnzXI/AAAAAAAAAFs/ToPRbhnD43Q/s1600/nu+mumc.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Smpctez75RA/Tx3CLTpnzXI/AAAAAAAAAFs/ToPRbhnD43Q/s320/nu+mumc.jpg" width="240" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;My Sweet Mum *loads of love and hugss*&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;We are all doing well in our various professions and cannot thank God enough for His faithfulness in our lives. I remember the different things you used to say and I sometimes say them to my younger ones. Things like *Nchita alu (a lazy person who would notice things that need to be done, but would wait to be told before doing them), *Aka efe n'azu (literally meaning hands always at your back. But it's used when a person passes through a door without shutting the door). Whenever I'm about to wear my shoes with really high heels, I remember as you would say *Eji ntu aga ije (walking on nails) and mimic the way I walk on them. I do your funny dance often with *Somto and it just cracks me up cos I can picture you doing them. You would always say "come and learn how to cook, not when you get married, your husband and in-laws will say *Azurugi azu (you were not brought up properly) &amp;nbsp;:-D.. I could go on and on, but I chose to pause here.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;You were a very warm person. Oh boi, you were accommodating to a fault, so much so that we nicknamed you Madam Goodington. :-D. Loads of people can testify to your&amp;nbsp;generosity and largeness of heart. You were also a super hardworking woman. You toiled to ensure that we never lacked anything. I remember talking with *Nneka years ago and saying that when we started working and earning fat salaries, we would buy you a limousine to cruise around with and we would also send you to yankee for vacations. LOL.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I remember when you were diagnosed with Cervical Cancer three years ago. We were all so devastated and prayed earnestly for a miracle. We took you to one of the best hospitals and you started your treatment. You were responding positively, but at the end, you had to go and rest.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-yTyVNpc_uOY/Tx3Teupvz5I/AAAAAAAAAF0/7kGDNrqeCgQ/s1600/cancer+awareness.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-yTyVNpc_uOY/Tx3Teupvz5I/AAAAAAAAAF0/7kGDNrqeCgQ/s320/cancer+awareness.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I know you are in a much better place now. I'm grateful that you are free from all the pain, though i wish that you had stayed longer with us. I can just picture you chatting with God and His angels, sharing jokes and laughing heartily. We will always remember all you taught us and will keep making you proud. Keep jollificating in heaven Mum. We will meet with you much later after we have fulfilled our life"s purpose here.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Forever in our hearts,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;With lots of love,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Your (onye ocha) daughter, :-D&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Che&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;P.S: There is a lot of awareness especially now as regards cancer in Nigeria. I would encourage everyone most especially the ladies to go for a pap smear and other tests.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;"&gt;From Google: A Pap smear can detect certain&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.emedicinehealth.com/script/main/art.asp?articlekey=15037" style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px; text-align: left; text-decoration: none;"&gt;viral&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;infections (such as&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.emedicinehealth.com/script/main/art.asp?articlekey=3813" style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px; text-align: left; text-decoration: none;"&gt;human papillomavirus&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;"&gt;[HPV]) and other cancer-causing conditions. Early treatment of these conditions can stop cervical cancer before it fully develops. A woman may have cervical cancer and not know it because she may not have any symptoms.&lt;/span&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Love you guys much.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Muahhhhhhh&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/50444862352948690-6865394360193074381?l=naijabankgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://naijabankgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/6865394360193074381/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://naijabankgirl.blogspot.com/2012/01/in-loving-memory-of-my-mum.html#comment-form' title='45 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/50444862352948690/posts/default/6865394360193074381'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/50444862352948690/posts/default/6865394360193074381'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://naijabankgirl.blogspot.com/2012/01/in-loving-memory-of-my-mum.html' title='IN LOVING MEMORY OF MY MUM'/><author><name>Che</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12087573646392976170</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-JT6F9_ZCN8Y/TxHgrK4rJEI/AAAAAAAAAE4/OqNxMovz6PQ/s220/sexy%2Bshoes1.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Smpctez75RA/Tx3CLTpnzXI/AAAAAAAAAFs/ToPRbhnD43Q/s72-c/nu+mumc.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>45</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-50444862352948690.post-2304228103600469050</id><published>2012-01-21T22:43:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2012-01-21T22:43:58.709+01:00</updated><title type='text'>THE GRUMBLER</title><content type='html'>So far, I have spent four days in my new branch and it has been interesting. I say interesting because I have a new set of colleagues and I have had fun studying them and my environment. There's a particular lady that I just wonder at. *Sharon is the Cash Officer and she is quite a character. When I resumed, there was no system for me, so I had to share hers for a couple of days. I don't appreciate when people tell me things about other people. I just don't want to know and besides I feel like that person would also say things behind my back. While working on Sharon's system the first day I resumed, she started what I have termed&amp;nbsp;her usual way of muttering. She was sitting beside me and was just muttering to herself. At first I thought she was praying beneath her breath, but after about ten minutes of muttering and no word from me, she asked me if I didn't hear what she was saying. With a surprised look, I turned and told her that I didn't know she was talking to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apparently she had been grumbling about a lot of things and wanted my input in the matter. She complained about the music our Hop *&lt;span style="color: yellow;"&gt;Lekan&lt;/span&gt; was playing. *Sharon said the music was too loud and it wasn't even Christian songs, so what makes him think everyone would want to hear it (she was playing her Christian songs too). I blinked in shock that someone would make such a silly and petty comment. I told her while smiling that it was none of her business what kind of songs he was playing cos it's a free world. Next she complained that *&lt;span style="color: yellow;"&gt;Lekan&lt;/span&gt; always favors his people (Yoruba) and would always side them. *Sharon is from Delta state. I didn't say anything to her, but continued working.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She would complain that *&lt;span style="color: yellow;"&gt;Lekan&lt;/span&gt; does not do his job but leaves everything for her to do. She would give instances of the tickets that were posted by the tellers and are supposed to be verified by the two of them, but *&lt;span style="color: yellow;"&gt;Lekan&lt;/span&gt; would leave everything for her to do and instead be reading his mails. All this while, i had been quiet as she muttered, but I was tired of hearing her talk. I told her that she can't just talk like that and he might have important issues to sort out via mail. *Sharon grumbled about how *&lt;span style="color: yellow;"&gt;Lekan&lt;/span&gt; wastes time with customers when he has to personally address their issues. Once, she pointed out to me a customer that had come to see *&lt;span style="color: yellow;"&gt;Lekan&lt;/span&gt; and was talking with him. In less than five minutes, they were through and the customer got up and left. *Sharon then said that that was an exception because usually the customer would seat there for a long time with *&lt;span style="color: yellow;"&gt;Lekan&lt;/span&gt;. &amp;nbsp;On and on she went grumbling about one thing or the other that *&lt;span style="color: yellow;"&gt;Lekan&lt;/span&gt; and some other people do. I never witnessed any of this things that she accuses them of.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I heard an earful of how *&lt;span style="color: yellow;"&gt;Funmi&lt;/span&gt; (the C.S.O) is a very lazy girl and because she is&amp;nbsp;Yoruba, *&lt;span style="color: yellow;"&gt;Lekan&lt;/span&gt; would always side her. On my third day in the office, *&lt;span style="color: yellow;"&gt;Lekan&lt;/span&gt; called that he was stuck in traffic and would be a little bit late to work. *Sharon started her muttering and was saying that &lt;span style="color: yellow;"&gt;ehnnnnnn&lt;/span&gt;, he always comes late to work and has one excuse or the other and it would become worse now cos there's a new staff that can cover for him. It's always to my hearing only, so when she mutters like this , I tell her off if I'm in the mood, but most times, I just ignore her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday, I and *Sharon entered the vault to bring out some cash for the tellers and almost as soon as we got in, she said that we should hurry up and leave because she doesn't like wasting time in the vault. She said that the vault was hot and had a musky smell. I shook my head, looked at her well and just started laughing and I told her to calm down. I was laughing because it's not as if she is an &lt;span style="color: yellow;"&gt;ajebutter&lt;/span&gt;&amp;nbsp;or anything of that sort. ( I don't mean to be mean cos I'm not an &lt;span style="color: yellow;"&gt;ajebutter&lt;/span&gt; either :-D ).&amp;nbsp;I asked her if she has ever seen a fan,&amp;nbsp;air condition or windows for ventilation&amp;nbsp;in a vault before. Of course she didn't respond, but picked the cash and we left the vault.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know if she has had issues with *&lt;span style="color: yellow;"&gt;Lekan&lt;/span&gt; or the other people before. I'm not interested in all that. After she has grumbled beneath her breath, she would always turn to them, be all smiley and still work as if she doesn't spite them.&amp;nbsp;I don't want to conclude that she is a frustrated, bitter and spiteful person cos I have known her for just four days, but that is the way she comes across to me. So far, she is the kind of person that I wouldn't want to be friends with. I have decided that I would just relate with her as a colleague. If she can tell me (a colleague that is just 4days old in the branch) such things about other people, then I don't need such a person as a friend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So far, *Lekan seems to me like a correct guy. He is fun to be around and does his job. My other colleagues all make sense too. I also noticed that the relationship they have with *Sharon is kind of official. They don't really gist with her. Oh well, I might be wrong though.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My system was fixed and configured by an IT guy yesterday, so I now stay on my own and don't have to constantly hear her mutterings. Thank goodness.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/50444862352948690-2304228103600469050?l=naijabankgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://naijabankgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/2304228103600469050/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://naijabankgirl.blogspot.com/2012/01/grumbler.html#comment-form' title='36 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/50444862352948690/posts/default/2304228103600469050'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/50444862352948690/posts/default/2304228103600469050'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://naijabankgirl.blogspot.com/2012/01/grumbler.html' title='THE GRUMBLER'/><author><name>Che</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12087573646392976170</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-JT6F9_ZCN8Y/TxHgrK4rJEI/AAAAAAAAAE4/OqNxMovz6PQ/s220/sexy%2Bshoes1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>36</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-50444862352948690.post-3593116914213031155</id><published>2012-01-17T20:54:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2012-01-17T20:54:09.008+01:00</updated><title type='text'>BACK TO WORK</title><content type='html'>I wasn't too excited yesterday when I heard on the news that the strike had been called off. I felt as if we hadn't achieved what we set out to. I felt betrayed by N.L.C. I wonder what transpired behind the closed doors during their meeting with the F.G. They seemed so firm in their resolve to fight corruption starting with the reverting of fuel price back to N65. What made them compromise so early, when the people were just gearing up fully for more protests. Lots of questions and no answers. I feel sorry for the lives that were lost in the protest. Their deaths seems to have been in vain. Well, the fight against corruption continues, maybe not in form of mass protests. It might be individually and gradually, but the fight still goes on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While the strike was going on, I had become tired of staying indoors. I didn't want to go to work. &lt;span style="color: yellow;"&gt;Mba&lt;/span&gt;, I just wanted to be able to visit my friends and &lt;span style="color: yellow;"&gt;waka&lt;/span&gt; anyhow without fear of anything happening to me on the road. Some of my friends shared the same sentiments with me. I was surprised that even my sister was feeling the same way. I remember she would say that she misses spending time with her hubby and two sons and was eagerly looking forward to the strike. I laughed at her when she complained of feeling caged indoors.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As soon as the strike was called off, I spread the info and surprisingly, most of those people that had said they were tired of staying indoors, didn't want to resume work so soon. That included me :-). Well, we didn't have a choice in the matter. It was hard to drag myself off bed when my alarm went off. I had gotten used to sleeping late and waking up equally really late. I eventually woke up and went quickly went through my phone for recent updates and gists. I saw a display picture a friend put up and it depicted what I was feeling, so I quickly saved it. In the space of a few minutes, some of my friends had changed their display pictures to the same one. I chuckled knowing that even though some of us were tired of the strike, we were not in the mood to resume work. Below is the picture:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-opFcJiA923A/TxXMSQ-szRI/AAAAAAAAAFk/0TDnTlLPeak/s1600/wok+no.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-opFcJiA923A/TxXMSQ-szRI/AAAAAAAAAFk/0TDnTlLPeak/s320/wok+no.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had to consciously switch to work mode when I got to the office. No more excessive sleeping, eating and generally having a good time at home. *Sighs*. Work was sooooo busy today. &lt;span style="color: yellow;"&gt;Chai&lt;/span&gt;, i couldn't wait for it to be 4pm, so we would close to customers and I could face some internal things I had to sort out. Hope you all had a splendid day at work today. Enjoy the rest of the fabulous week.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hugs and kisses.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P.S: Thanks for the comments on my last post. I planned on doing a seriously worded mail to the S.C.U guys today, but the main C.S.O guy kindda resumed today. Tomorrow, I will hand over to him and &lt;span style="color: yellow;"&gt;jejeli waka&lt;/span&gt; to my original new branch. It was fun working with a new set of people for a while but it's time to move on. Change is one constant thing in life &lt;span style="color: yellow;"&gt;abi&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/50444862352948690-3593116914213031155?l=naijabankgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://naijabankgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/3593116914213031155/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://naijabankgirl.blogspot.com/2012/01/back-to-work.html#comment-form' title='26 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/50444862352948690/posts/default/3593116914213031155'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/50444862352948690/posts/default/3593116914213031155'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://naijabankgirl.blogspot.com/2012/01/back-to-work.html' title='BACK TO WORK'/><author><name>Che</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12087573646392976170</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-JT6F9_ZCN8Y/TxHgrK4rJEI/AAAAAAAAAE4/OqNxMovz6PQ/s220/sexy%2Bshoes1.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-opFcJiA923A/TxXMSQ-szRI/AAAAAAAAAFk/0TDnTlLPeak/s72-c/wok+no.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>26</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-50444862352948690.post-17222125460525729</id><published>2012-01-07T22:19:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2012-01-07T22:19:27.053+01:00</updated><title type='text'>RANTINGS ON THE JOB</title><content type='html'>I absolutely hate it when people outrightly refuse to do their jobs. Right now, I'm so angry with some of my colleagues. I could just slap them off their seats and make them do what they are supposed to do. If you have been following my blog, you would know that I resumed in my second new branch on the 19th of December, 2011. I did a post on it titled: A New Beginning. Usually, when you resume in a new branch, you are expected to fill out a form where you specify your new job function and other things. This form is then scanned and sent as a mail to the Group Head Operations (G.H) and to a group of people in the Systems Control Unit (S.C.U). &amp;nbsp;The G.H approves the change and the guys in the S.C.U then effects the change. All this is supposed to be done in a matter of minutes. However, until the change is done, you do not have the work rights to function in your new department.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I resumed, I was faced with the challenge of not been able to work on the system. I needed to be configured first. Some branchs have an I.T person working with them, but most of the branches would have to call an I.T person to come and help out when issues arise. The I.T person assigned to our region was not readily available, so I had to learn to configure my system via chat. It was an annoying process, but I eventually got that sorted out. The S.C guys efficiently changed my work rights and so I was enabled to function as the Funds Transfer (F.T) person in my new branch. It was quite challenging learning and working at the same time. I'm sure I made a pretty sight armed with my notebook and hopping on heels from my desk to my bosses desk. ^_^. , and at the same time attending to customers. :-).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After working in the capacity of an F.T for one week, the Customer Service Officer (C.S.O) went on leave and I was assigned to relieve him. I configured myself on his system (I'm now a pro on that :-) ), filled the form for my work rights to be changed from FT to C.S.O, scanned it and sent it to those in charge. Now it is from this part that I wish I could slap some people. *insert very angry face*. As soon as the G.H approves, it shouldn't take the guys in S.C.U more than a few minutes to effect the change. My G.H immediately approved the mail sent and you all will not believe that up till now, part of my work rights as the C.S.O has not been given to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I will try to explain it as much as I can without outrightly abusing my colleagues, cos I'm so pissed at them. It took the guys in S.C.U almost two days to effect some change to enable me do my core C.S.O functions. Can you imagine that I had a lot of account opening packages to work on, but could not open these accounts because my work rights had not been enabled. The account officers had to keep lying to the owners of these outstanding accounts that our link in the office was epileptic and that was why they hadn't received their account numbers. Also, when a customer collects his cheque book, the C.S.O is supposed to immediately upload the cheque range on the system. This is to enable the customer to use the cheque book to withdraw without any delays. There were situations where other branchs sent us mails asking us to upload the cheque range of customers so they could withdraw. I couldn't upload them because my work rights had not been changed. The customers were eventually paid, but it was service failure to have kept them waiting for a while through no fault of theirs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I sent a series of reminders to the guys at S.C.U to do their job, so I could do mine, but it was almost as if they see the mails and wait for someone else to do the needful. I called several times and a different person will always pick the phone. I would narrate my issue and they would promise to do their bit immediately. I'm still waiting for them to do their bit thoroughly. I told my boss that it's almost as if part of their brains are on leave. I just don't understand anymore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As i type this, I have close to 25 customer's requests for ATM cards.&amp;nbsp;It takes just a few minutes to process these cards.&amp;nbsp;I have debited the accounts, but can't process the cards because my work rights in that area has not been done. All thanks to my colleagues at the S.C.U, i&amp;nbsp;have almost perfected the art of&amp;nbsp;sympathetic&amp;nbsp;lying.&amp;nbsp;I just keep on lying to the customer's that the part of the system used to process ATM cards has been down for a while, but also promise them that it will be up soon. *insert guilty face*. Just yesterday, a customer came again to collect his ATM card and I felt so bad cos it still had not been processed. He was really sad cos he needs it especially in the face of this impending strike.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sincerely, I wonder at my colleagues in S.C.U. Is it that as soon as they receive I, my boss or even the G.H's mail, they "mistakenly" delete it? Or do they plan on effecting the change on my work right after I have called, but forget? Do they want me to come to our Head Office and shake them up before they can do their job? Don't they understand that because of their negligence, some people are rendering gross disservice to the customers? &amp;nbsp;I &lt;span style="color: yellow;"&gt;tire o.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P.S: I wore a purple peep toe shoe to work last&amp;nbsp;Thursday&amp;nbsp;and my boss told me that the color is not compliant. I told her (politely and smiling while slapping her in my head) that it was compliant and besides I have a copy of our dress code. I was even wearing a pair of trousers, so how did she notice my shoe. *smh*. &amp;nbsp;She still insisted that it wasn't compliant. I told her I &lt;span style="color: yellow;"&gt;don &lt;/span&gt;hear. *sticking tongue out*. I am working my ass out managing the customers with my non existent work rights and you are here noticing the color of my shoe. &lt;span style="color: yellow;"&gt;Mscheww.. ..&lt;/span&gt;&amp;nbsp;I just fixed a sanely crazy hairstyle today and painted my toe nails blue. Let me hear what she will say about it when i get to the office. *evil grin*.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P.P.S: So sorry the post is long. I'm just pissed at my colleagues. :-)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/50444862352948690-17222125460525729?l=naijabankgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://naijabankgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/17222125460525729/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://naijabankgirl.blogspot.com/2012/01/rantings-on-job.html#comment-form' title='32 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/50444862352948690/posts/default/17222125460525729'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/50444862352948690/posts/default/17222125460525729'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://naijabankgirl.blogspot.com/2012/01/rantings-on-job.html' title='RANTINGS ON THE JOB'/><author><name>Che</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12087573646392976170</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-JT6F9_ZCN8Y/TxHgrK4rJEI/AAAAAAAAAE4/OqNxMovz6PQ/s220/sexy%2Bshoes1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>32</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-50444862352948690.post-5192809299947589754</id><published>2012-01-01T15:19:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2012-01-01T15:19:15.339+01:00</updated><title type='text'>2012, YAAAAAAAYYYYYYYYYYYYY</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-IxSYjnlx1iM/TwBacbbGLII/AAAAAAAAAEQ/JQZaw4-FtFc/s1600/nyc+2012.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-IxSYjnlx1iM/TwBacbbGLII/AAAAAAAAAEQ/JQZaw4-FtFc/s320/nyc+2012.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!!!!!!!!! &amp;nbsp;I saw this picture of 2012 and it made me laugh so I decided to put it up. I feel kindda sad for the last 1 as it was shooed away by the incoming 2. LOL. Did you notice the stern look in the eyes of 2 and the downcast look in the eyes of the last 1? The last 1was so sad to be leaving that he didn't even put on his celebration cap. :-(......Oh well, 2011 came, was the King of the moment, had his reign, but now it's time for 2012 to take over. In &lt;span style="color: yellow;"&gt;Igboland&lt;/span&gt;, there is a saying &lt;span style="color: yellow;"&gt;"Eze puo, Eze anochie"&lt;/span&gt; (When a king leaves, another king takes over). That's exactly what has happened. The past year was joyous for I and my family. The Lord was and is still faithful to us. We can't thank Him enough for the numerous things he has done.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-lVC4PudUf1U/TwBeIrvImyI/AAAAAAAAAEc/Vg6-nyYleT4/s1600/thank+u+Lord.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-lVC4PudUf1U/TwBeIrvImyI/AAAAAAAAAEc/Vg6-nyYleT4/s320/thank+u+Lord.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lord I want to thank you for life, for soundness of mind, for your guidance and your protection, for your faithfulness and love, for your mercies that are new every morning, for your grace that is always sufficient for me, for food to eat and clothes to wear, for my job, for my family, friends, blogsville family and the wonderful things you have done for us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm sooooo excited about this year. I can barely contain myself in anticipation of the things I'm going to achieve this year. I'm not setting any new year resolutions for myself. Nope. I will just set weekly and monthly goals. And with God helping me all the way and determination on my part, I will def get them done.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wanted to upload a song that I heard late last year and I loved it, but I kept getting an error message. Will do that some other time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Huggsss and kisses and a Fabulous 2012 to you all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/50444862352948690-5192809299947589754?l=naijabankgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://naijabankgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/5192809299947589754/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://naijabankgirl.blogspot.com/2012/01/2012-yaaaaaaayyyyyyyyyyyyy.html#comment-form' title='23 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/50444862352948690/posts/default/5192809299947589754'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/50444862352948690/posts/default/5192809299947589754'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://naijabankgirl.blogspot.com/2012/01/2012-yaaaaaaayyyyyyyyyyyyy.html' title='2012, YAAAAAAAYYYYYYYYYYYYY'/><author><name>Che</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12087573646392976170</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-JT6F9_ZCN8Y/TxHgrK4rJEI/AAAAAAAAAE4/OqNxMovz6PQ/s220/sexy%2Bshoes1.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-IxSYjnlx1iM/TwBacbbGLII/AAAAAAAAAEQ/JQZaw4-FtFc/s72-c/nyc+2012.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>23</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-50444862352948690.post-1530618506772871755</id><published>2011-12-27T23:16:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2011-12-27T23:16:09.608+01:00</updated><title type='text'>CROSS CULTURAL WEDDING</title><content type='html'>Hello everyone, hope the Christmas holiday has been fantastic. Mine has been pretty eventful with lots of places to go to and people to visit. I attended a traditional wedding here in Lagos yesterday and it was fun. The groom is from &lt;span style="color: yellow;"&gt;Anambra&lt;/span&gt; while the bride is from &lt;span style="color: yellow;"&gt;Akwa Ibom.&lt;/span&gt; When my father showed me the invitation card, I jokingly told him that it wouldn't be a bad idea to have my own traditional wedding &lt;span style="color: yellow;"&gt;(Igba-Nkwu)&lt;/span&gt; in Lagos. At least, it would save us the stress of travelling and all that. He said &lt;span style="color: yellow;"&gt;Mba,&lt;/span&gt;,,, that in our culture &lt;span style="color: yellow;"&gt;(Igbo)&lt;/span&gt;, the traditional wedding must be done in the girls' village..............I just smiled because I already knew that would be his response. My father loves his tradition &lt;span style="color: yellow;"&gt;ehnnnnn. Chai.&lt;/span&gt; :-)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, back to the wedding i attended. I love the idea of cross cultural weddings. The fusion of both cultures adds color to the event. The wedding was held at the poolside of a hotel. At the entrance of the venue, we were welcomed by two ladies who beckoned on us to come and sign the couple's tree. Below is the picture:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-R2FuRNLWCvw/Tvo0UBfkIbI/AAAAAAAAADM/sPh06XztIDU/s1600/wedding+tinz.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-R2FuRNLWCvw/Tvo0UBfkIbI/AAAAAAAAADM/sPh06XztIDU/s320/wedding+tinz.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They politely informed us that the couple requested that everyone should thumbprint and write their names on their paper tree. It was my first time of seeing that and it was amusing, but we obliged them. I guess the couple would later frame it. We were given baby wipes to clean the ink from our fingers and then ushered to our seats to enjoy the wedding rites and all. I loved watching the cultural troupe from &lt;span style="color: yellow;"&gt;Akwa Ibom &lt;/span&gt;as they&amp;nbsp;entertained us. Below are some pictures I took of them:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-zL5j724MX7A/Tvo2yaf4JZI/AAAAAAAAADY/sqFqYw9oyRk/s1600/wedin.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-zL5j724MX7A/Tvo2yaf4JZI/AAAAAAAAADY/sqFqYw9oyRk/s320/wedin.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-5zGEkIPlEuw/Tvo4gZ_vnqI/AAAAAAAAADk/Hn7GaGy8a6A/s1600/weddin+4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="238" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-5zGEkIPlEuw/Tvo4gZ_vnqI/AAAAAAAAADk/Hn7GaGy8a6A/s320/weddin+4.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I like their dance. The way they twirl around with that round thing on their waist and all was fun to watch. I also appreciated my &lt;span style="color: yellow;"&gt;Ndi Igbo&lt;/span&gt; people when they came out to do their traditional dance and usher the groom to his seat..:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-EwecHzTLmsY/Tvo5pg7QnQI/AAAAAAAAADw/fpPCzS5b4Gg/s1600/wedding5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-EwecHzTLmsY/Tvo5pg7QnQI/AAAAAAAAADw/fpPCzS5b4Gg/s320/wedding5.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-AgvSWttTZFE/Tvo57jIbc7I/AAAAAAAAAEE/Md0rJSAqHfo/s1600/wedding2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-AgvSWttTZFE/Tvo57jIbc7I/AAAAAAAAAEE/Md0rJSAqHfo/s320/wedding2.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The group had almost passed where I was sitting, before i remembered that I wanted to take pictures. :-).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was an interesting wedding with parts of it done in the &lt;span style="color: yellow;"&gt;Akwa Ibom &lt;/span&gt;dialect and parts done in &lt;span style="color: yellow;"&gt;Igbo.&lt;/span&gt; I admire people that marry outside their tribe. Aside from the love the couple have for each other, I think it takes a whole lot of courage too, especially if you do not understand your spouse's language. Using myself as an example, even though i grew up in Lagos, I can't speak Yoruba. *covers face in shame*. I understand a bit of the language, but that's about it. &amp;nbsp;So imagine if I were to marry a Yoruba guy, I would feel kindda weird if we visit his people or friends and they are gisting in his language. Oh well, yeah, I know i could always learn it and all that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My sister is married to an &lt;span style="color: yellow;"&gt;Edo &lt;/span&gt;man and i sometimes ask her how she feels when they are in the midst of the hubby's people and they are all gisting in his language. She just shrugged and said it's not that bad and she is also learning the language, but in the meantime, once they remember that she doesn't understand, they quickly switch back to English. :-). I think that's really nice of them ooo. :-)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wish the couple: Emem and Okezie a fabulously blissful marriage.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/50444862352948690-1530618506772871755?l=naijabankgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://naijabankgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/1530618506772871755/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://naijabankgirl.blogspot.com/2011/12/cross-cultural-wedding.html#comment-form' title='13 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/50444862352948690/posts/default/1530618506772871755'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/50444862352948690/posts/default/1530618506772871755'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://naijabankgirl.blogspot.com/2011/12/cross-cultural-wedding.html' title='CROSS CULTURAL WEDDING'/><author><name>Che</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12087573646392976170</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-JT6F9_ZCN8Y/TxHgrK4rJEI/AAAAAAAAAE4/OqNxMovz6PQ/s220/sexy%2Bshoes1.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-R2FuRNLWCvw/Tvo0UBfkIbI/AAAAAAAAADM/sPh06XztIDU/s72-c/wedding+tinz.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>13</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-50444862352948690.post-8824547874033895728</id><published>2011-12-19T22:46:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2011-12-19T22:46:05.236+01:00</updated><title type='text'>A NEW BEGINNING</title><content type='html'>I woke up excited that I was resuming in my new branch. The excitement was more because I would no longer be facing trailers with their containers and tankers on my route. It's such a relief to me. I got to work at about 7:30am and thankfully, saw a familiar face there. *Steve is a relief Cash Officer/Funds Transfer guy and he would be the one to put me through on my F.T duties. I freshened up and patiently waited for my Head of Operations *Lekan. When he eventually got to the office, he gave me a shocker. Apparently, he and the Hop of another branch had some sort of agreement. And the Group Head was in on it too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let me make it easy for you all to understand. Let's call my new branch A and the other branch B. *Steve is the Cash Officer in B. He is presently at A relieving the Cash Officer and also doubling up as the F.T guy. The F.T guy in B has just been transferred effective today. So the Hop of B pleaded with the Hop of A to send me (the new F.T lady) to branch B to act as their F.T lady pending when the original Cash Officer in branch A resumes. When the Cash Officer in A resumes, *Steve would come back to his original branch B and I would go back to my new branch A. (I hope I didn't confuse you all with this ramblings:-)). When my new boss told me this, I actually thought he was joking, but he wasn't. I looked at him long and hard (in my mind, i was saying.... You guys must be kidding me right), bid *Steve farewell and left for my second new branch.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thankfully, it's also not too far from my home. On getting there, I met my newest Hop *Dinma. She is quite nice. She immediately told me that I would work with them until the second week of January 2012. She also explained to me that for this week, my system right would be&amp;nbsp;amended&amp;nbsp;to that of an F.T person. However, effective next week, I would become a relief Customer Service Officer because the C.S.O guy would be proceeding on his leave. As soon as he resumes, I will be switched back to my F.T rights and I would go back to my initial new branch A. While she was talking, I almost started laughing because this wasn't what I bargained for at all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The problem I have with my bank and I guess it might be happening in other places too is that, they don't want to employ. There are loads of unemployed youths out there, but &lt;span style="color: yellow;"&gt;Mba,&lt;/span&gt; we are not employing. I hear phrases such as "We are cutting cost" and it just annoys me. In cutting cost, the bank can use an individual to do several job functions. And at the same time, the staff is supposed to deliver excellent and prompt service to the customer, be forever smiling and cheerful and there is zero tolerance for errors. Mschewwwwwwwwwwww......&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So at the moment, I'm&amp;nbsp;familiarizing&amp;nbsp;myself with my second new branch (even though I will be there for just three weeks), learning and working as the F.T person before flipping over to the C.S.O desk (grinning widely while flexing my muscles).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In all these happenings, I say this to myself: "Every single thing is working together for my good'. Even if I can't understand the how or why. One thing I do know is that even though I am not where I want to be, but I'm definitely not where I used to be. I just know that God is aware of the present happenings and is masterminding everything to work out for my good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stretching&amp;nbsp;and Yawning.......Goodnight y'all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Loads of love and hugs.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/50444862352948690-8824547874033895728?l=naijabankgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://naijabankgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/8824547874033895728/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://naijabankgirl.blogspot.com/2011/12/new-beginning.html#comment-form' title='22 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/50444862352948690/posts/default/8824547874033895728'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/50444862352948690/posts/default/8824547874033895728'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://naijabankgirl.blogspot.com/2011/12/new-beginning.html' title='A NEW BEGINNING'/><author><name>Che</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12087573646392976170</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-JT6F9_ZCN8Y/TxHgrK4rJEI/AAAAAAAAAE4/OqNxMovz6PQ/s220/sexy%2Bshoes1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>22</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-50444862352948690.post-5077860775841697907</id><published>2011-12-15T22:31:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2011-12-15T22:31:23.947+01:00</updated><title type='text'>IN THE SPIRIT OF XMAS AND OTHERS</title><content type='html'>Work has been very hectic this past weeks. This season is especially busy in the banking sector, because a lot of customers are determined to make the most of the remainder of the year. Two weeks ago, we started planning our end of year party. As the assistant service co-ordinator, I had to be actively involved in the planning. At first, majority of us wanted a beach party, but after some deliberations, we decided to visit an orphanage and also have a Xmas TGIF. A group of people were delegated to represent the branch at the orphanage and yours truly was among. We chose to visit an orphanage in &lt;span style="color: yellow;"&gt;Surulere&lt;/span&gt; because of proximity to our office. We went there today and it was a rewarding experience. The kids were fun to be with and some of my colleagues that also went were so sober. Lots of thoughts such as: "How could people just dump their kids"?, "Hope those deformities can be cured" were going through their minds. We played with them, asked their matrons some questions, prayed with them and presented our gift items. Sadly, we couldn't take a lot of pictures with the children, because it is against their policy. We could only take pictures with one child, who would represent all the children. A very friendly and beautiful little girl Chichi* by name was asked to take the pictures with us. We had a nice time with them and on our way back to the office, thanked God for our lives and the families we have.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Our Xmas TGIF will hold tomorrow. "Yaaaaayyyyyyyyyy"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-4UwiSHlUwHI/TupbgtT27kI/AAAAAAAAADA/IJMU_qAdYTU/s1600/xmas+groove.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="212" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-4UwiSHlUwHI/TupbgtT27kI/AAAAAAAAADA/IJMU_qAdYTU/s320/xmas+groove.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't wait ooo. I have mandated all my colleagues to add extra speed to their jobs tomorrow. We need to balance all our transactions early, so we will have enough time to groove. :-). We gonna party hard because we have every reason to. God has been good to us individually and as a branch. In this year, one of us got married, some of my colleagues put to bed and some were promoted. Armed robbers were far away from us and no fraud passed through my branch, none of us died or had accidents to and from work and other places we went to. I could go on and on about God's mercies and kindness towards I and my colleagues. &amp;nbsp;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On a different note, I got a mail this afternoon informing me that I have been transferred effective Monday. I had mixed feelings when I saw the mail. I would miss my friends (the few that I'm very close to) :-(. I was happy however because I would be in a new environment, face new challenges in terms of my new job function (Funds Transfer desk) and generally start anew. The best part for me is that my new branch is not too far from my house and I would always be going against traffic. *dancing around*. If you live in Lagos, you will understand why I'm so happy about that. Since my boss saw the mail, he has been singing with my name that they are going to miss me :-). So tomorrow, I will send my hand over note to the service co-ordinator (She resumed today from her maternity leave), tidy up my desk, hand over my other duties and GROOVE (for me it will be Xmas/&amp;nbsp;Send-forth&amp;nbsp;parryyyyyyyyy) :-).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm off to polish my dancing shoes. :-D&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/50444862352948690-5077860775841697907?l=naijabankgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://naijabankgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/5077860775841697907/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://naijabankgirl.blogspot.com/2011/12/in-spirit-of-xmas-and-others.html#comment-form' title='16 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/50444862352948690/posts/default/5077860775841697907'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/50444862352948690/posts/default/5077860775841697907'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://naijabankgirl.blogspot.com/2011/12/in-spirit-of-xmas-and-others.html' title='IN THE SPIRIT OF XMAS AND OTHERS'/><author><name>Che</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12087573646392976170</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-JT6F9_ZCN8Y/TxHgrK4rJEI/AAAAAAAAAE4/OqNxMovz6PQ/s220/sexy%2Bshoes1.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-4UwiSHlUwHI/TupbgtT27kI/AAAAAAAAADA/IJMU_qAdYTU/s72-c/xmas+groove.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>16</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-50444862352948690.post-1685556189409740310</id><published>2011-12-11T22:58:00.001+01:00</published><updated>2011-12-11T22:59:51.493+01:00</updated><title type='text'>MUSIC, FOOD AND ME</title><content type='html'>I love music. Be it singing, listening to it or dancing to it, I simply love music. There is a very old radio in my house that I'm sentimentally attached to. I'm pretty sure it's older than even my eldest sister :-D, but it is still functional. The knob used to tune to different stations is spoilt, so we replaced it with a pair of scissors or a key or anything. The radio is portable, so we just move it around. It's semi permanent position is in the kitchen. Well, this is mainly because of me. My popsie calls me the kitchen manager, because I'm the eldest in the house now, so I'm in charge of the kitchen. :-). &amp;nbsp;I love food, mostly the eating aspect, not the cooking. :-). So the radio keeps me company when I'm cooking, washing up or generally fiddling around in the kitchen. Below is a picture of the radio in my kitchen:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Uz0Is-kK9RY/TuT9EE7wvjI/AAAAAAAAACo/1ETqvtTA45M/s1600/IMG00489-20111127-1817.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Uz0Is-kK9RY/TuT9EE7wvjI/AAAAAAAAACo/1ETqvtTA45M/s320/IMG00489-20111127-1817.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The radio is not that bad&amp;nbsp;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: yellow;"&gt;abi&lt;/span&gt;. That radio you see in the picture has kept me abreast of what's happening in terms of music, news, traffic report and general gist. Somehow, with the radio blaring loudly and me shaking my booty while cooking or washing the dishes, time just zooms past and before I know it, I'm through with what I'm doing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;Below is a plate of fried rice garnished with tomatoes and boiled egg prepared by my humble self :-) and a tray of salad prepared by my sister and I.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/--ttM2XgWuLk/TuUKCK4ZnqI/AAAAAAAAACw/gct-1AWGgxE/s1600/081.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/--ttM2XgWuLk/TuUKCK4ZnqI/AAAAAAAAACw/gct-1AWGgxE/s320/081.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-qfKPO6mulfo/TuULGYahCsI/AAAAAAAAAC4/66HAR_QM_ts/s1600/27112010.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-qfKPO6mulfo/TuULGYahCsI/AAAAAAAAAC4/66HAR_QM_ts/s320/27112010.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just love the colorful combination of the veggies in the salad. I love colors too. Yummy looking ehhh.......&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Merry Xmas to y'all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/50444862352948690-1685556189409740310?l=naijabankgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://naijabankgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/1685556189409740310/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://naijabankgirl.blogspot.com/2011/12/i-love-music.html#comment-form' title='22 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/50444862352948690/posts/default/1685556189409740310'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/50444862352948690/posts/default/1685556189409740310'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://naijabankgirl.blogspot.com/2011/12/i-love-music.html' title='MUSIC, FOOD AND ME'/><author><name>Che</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12087573646392976170</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-JT6F9_ZCN8Y/TxHgrK4rJEI/AAAAAAAAAE4/OqNxMovz6PQ/s220/sexy%2Bshoes1.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Uz0Is-kK9RY/TuT9EE7wvjI/AAAAAAAAACo/1ETqvtTA45M/s72-c/IMG00489-20111127-1817.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>22</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-50444862352948690.post-452998125961766659</id><published>2011-11-27T21:59:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2011-11-27T21:59:20.539+01:00</updated><title type='text'>GROWING UP</title><content type='html'>I get excited each time I log on and see a new follower. *dances for a while and settles down*.&amp;nbsp;I will like a say a big welcome to you all.&amp;nbsp;You guys warm my heart. *hugs and kisses*. And to all my other followers: both the visible and silent ones, loads of love to you guys.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;To my post for the day. I saw a friend's blackberry display picture and it brought back memories of my childhood days. I quickly saved the image and used it as my display picture:&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-C4m1P07w89k/TtKFz3-zI_I/AAAAAAAAABw/ydpUGBhjkZ4/s1600/child+spiderman.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-C4m1P07w89k/TtKFz3-zI_I/AAAAAAAAABw/ydpUGBhjkZ4/s320/child+spiderman.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;As soon as I saw this picture, I burst out laughing because I sooooooo did this as a kid. It was our own interpretation of spiderman. :-). &amp;nbsp;My siblings and I had fun doing this, but it was always when our parents were not in. You wouldn't dare to do this with them at home for fear of being scolded or beaten.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-EK_ozWHayjw/TtKH603W5pI/AAAAAAAAAB4/ooJs_2cV67A/s1600/girl+sliding+down+banister.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-EK_ozWHayjw/TtKH603W5pI/AAAAAAAAAB4/ooJs_2cV67A/s320/girl+sliding+down+banister.jpg" width="212" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;Image from Google&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;div&gt;How many of you slid down (or still slide down ;-) ) the banister? There was this rush of excitement I felt whenever I did this then. A lot of other kids in my compound used to do this too. It was fun watching to know who slid down the fastest.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-1yKsRQJgIdU/TtKKm1eCUfI/AAAAAAAAACI/WCZCM3852MY/s1600/children+climbing+trees.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="213" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-1yKsRQJgIdU/TtKKm1eCUfI/AAAAAAAAACI/WCZCM3852MY/s320/children+climbing+trees.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;Image from Google&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;div&gt;Ohhhhhhhh, the joy of climbing trees. We had an apple tree (the naija kind) and an almond (popularly known as fruit) tree in my compound and we took turns to climb the apple tree to pluck the fruit. It was quite high, but as adventurous kids, it was fun climbing it. It had lots of branches, so that helped. The older kids climbed, plucked and threw the fruits down, while the younger kids stayed down to pick the fruits. After we were done, the fruits would be washed and shared. It was a nice way to learn division of&amp;nbsp;labor&amp;nbsp;and unity. :-). The almond tree didn't have a lot of branches, so we had to pluck the almond using long sticks. I especially liked the nut inside the almond.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-_oBfUe41trs/TtKPzVBaJpI/AAAAAAAAACg/ZaeDfaMzkO4/s1600/hangin+upside+down+3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="400" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-_oBfUe41trs/TtKPzVBaJpI/AAAAAAAAACg/ZaeDfaMzkO4/s400/hangin+upside+down+3.jpg" width="265" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;Image from Google&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;div&gt;I loved the swings and more so because I could do a lot there. We had a lot of swings at the back of the house and the kids would all gather to play. Aside from the normal seat with your bum and be pushed high up (exhilarating feeling i tell you) , I could also hang upside down and then tumble and land perfectly. Sometimes, I would push myself up and hang with my my neck for a while, before tumbling down. At other times, I would turn upside down, hang with my legs and just enjoy the scenery from upside down. ;-). The swing was higher than the one in the picture. Quite risky i know. The amazing thing is that none of us kids had any serious injury from this rather rough plays. I can't even remember I or my siblings having any injury&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: yellow;"&gt; sef.&lt;/span&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;A friend of mine saw the picture and we started chatting. She is a mother of two boys and she said she would have a fit if she saw her sons doing the spiderman thingy. I wonder how our parents coped with us. We both agreed that our guardian angels must have always been on their toes looking out for us.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I also remember &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: yellow;"&gt;tenten&lt;/span&gt;, &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: yellow;"&gt;suwe&lt;/span&gt;, cooking with sand and leaves, flying from the dining table aka superman, LOL, the fun things we did as kids.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;Feel free to share some childhood games you played.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I can't believe tomorrow is Monday again. *sighs*. Where did my weekend go to? :-(&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Have a splendid week y'all. *hugsssssss*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/50444862352948690-452998125961766659?l=naijabankgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://naijabankgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/452998125961766659/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://naijabankgirl.blogspot.com/2011/11/growing-up.html#comment-form' title='28 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/50444862352948690/posts/default/452998125961766659'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/50444862352948690/posts/default/452998125961766659'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://naijabankgirl.blogspot.com/2011/11/growing-up.html' title='GROWING UP'/><author><name>Che</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12087573646392976170</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-JT6F9_ZCN8Y/TxHgrK4rJEI/AAAAAAAAAE4/OqNxMovz6PQ/s220/sexy%2Bshoes1.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-C4m1P07w89k/TtKFz3-zI_I/AAAAAAAAABw/ydpUGBhjkZ4/s72-c/child+spiderman.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>28</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-50444862352948690.post-821639600461447370</id><published>2011-11-18T22:50:00.001+01:00</published><updated>2011-11-18T22:55:45.895+01:00</updated><title type='text'>INJECTIONS.......AAARRRGGHHHHH :-(</title><content type='html'>I hate drugs, but there is something I hate more than that, and &amp;nbsp;that is injections. It's funny that I have to say this, because I grew up with drugs and injections all around me. My mum was a nurse and so our home was a hospital of sorts. We had a basket (big hamper basket) full of drugs. We also had a section of the wardrobe in the girls room where injections, drips and all first aid things were kept. Once anyone is ill, be it family,&amp;nbsp;neighbors&amp;nbsp;or friends, they just come to the house and Momsie will administer drugs or give injections or drips. My mum was an extremely caring person and all these treatments were free, so I guess that's why people were always coming to our home whenever they were sick. Sadly though, none of us ( her kids) towed the medical line. I almost did, but changed my mind while I was in the university.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I self-medicate because I noticed that whenever I run a test and go to our family hospital, the doctor always prescribes two injections for me for three days. They always work though, but no, thanks. Since I'm not a fan of the needle, I try to avoid the hospital. I always act drama before I allow the nurses to prick me. It's not as if I plan to, but I always tell them to wait a while for me to psyche myself before they jab me. They are my friends (by virtue of constantly visiting the hospital), so they will just laugh and tell me to inform them when I'm ready. Also, if I notice that I feel extra pain when you give me an injection, I will try to avoid you. :-).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had been feeling ill for almost a week now. I bought "Artesunate"(a malaria drug), Panadol and some multivitamins. I started taking them, although the effect wasn't as fast as I wanted it to be. I managed to go to work everyday, but was feeling really awful: I was having terrible headache, feeling cold internally, but sweating, joints aching me, loss of appetite and all that. Finally, I felt I couldn't take it anymore and decided to run some tests. I took today off work and did malaria and&amp;nbsp;typhoid&amp;nbsp;tests. The result came out and it read that I had both malaria and&amp;nbsp;typhoid. :-(.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My next line of action was to visit our family hospital. I did that reluctantly. When I got there, I didn't meet my usual doctor. I explained to the doctor on duty *Dr Frank how I had been feeling and showed him my test result. Before he started writing his prescriptions on my hospital file, I asked him if there was an alternative to injections. He asked for my reason and I explained to him. *Dr Frank just sat there smiling and started writing. After a while he showed me what he wrote down. They were drugs. I asked him if they would work fast because in as much as I don't like injections ( and I had taken quite a lot this year), I could take them if they would work faster. Basically, I just wanted something to make me get well quickly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dr Frank allowed me to finish talking and patiently explained to me that whichever one I chose (whether drugs or injections), it would work and he wouldn't say that injections work faster than drugs. After we had talked for a while, I left the hospital with the drugs he prescribed and a resolve in my mind to pray and confess God's Word more as regards my health. I'm also determined to take better care of myself and also eat lots of fruits and veggies to build up my immune system.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;Y'all have a beautiful and healthy weekend. *love and hugs*&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/50444862352948690-821639600461447370?l=naijabankgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://naijabankgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/821639600461447370/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://naijabankgirl.blogspot.com/2011/11/injectionsaaarrrrgghhhhhhh.html#comment-form' title='27 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/50444862352948690/posts/default/821639600461447370'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/50444862352948690/posts/default/821639600461447370'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://naijabankgirl.blogspot.com/2011/11/injectionsaaarrrrgghhhhhhh.html' title='INJECTIONS.......AAARRRGGHHHHH :-('/><author><name>Che</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12087573646392976170</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-JT6F9_ZCN8Y/TxHgrK4rJEI/AAAAAAAAAE4/OqNxMovz6PQ/s220/sexy%2Bshoes1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>27</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-50444862352948690.post-8887627543038464080</id><published>2011-11-13T20:14:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2011-11-13T20:14:50.766+01:00</updated><title type='text'>AVOIDABLE STRESS</title><content type='html'>One of my relatives *Mr Ike lost his wife some months ago. As is typical in Igbo culture, my father and some of his kinsmen decided to go and pay him a condolence visit. The proposed visit&amp;nbsp;happened&amp;nbsp;today. My younger brother *Obinna went with them because he did his Industrial&amp;nbsp;Attachment&amp;nbsp;(IT) in *Mr Ike's company. When they were almost there, my father decided to call to inform him that they were almost at his house. *Mr Ike responded by saying that he is in South Africa. They exchanged some pleasantries and condolence messages over the phone and my father and his kinsmen reversed and started the journey back to our house.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Obinna gave me the gist when they got home. Apparently, my father and his kinsmen were not happy that *Mr Ike was not in the country when they decided to visit him. They were discussing&amp;nbsp;among&amp;nbsp;themselves and saying things like "A man in mourning should not step out of his house for a period of time, not to talk of travelling out of the country", "It is not proper according to our tradition", "People would say that he did not &amp;nbsp;mourn his wife well", &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: yellow;"&gt;bla bla bla&lt;/span&gt;. All that one did not concern me. *Mr Ike has buried his wife over a month ago and what &amp;nbsp;if he decides to go chill out and mourn her in South Africa. Whose business is that. What made me laugh and shake my head was the fact that none of them thought of calling *Mr Ike first to be sure he would be at home, before going to pay him a visit. I have seen this happen time and time again and I keep on wondering at people's&amp;nbsp;behavior.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Once I was at home, and a relation of mine came with his wife, their baby and his mother to visit my father. Let me digress a bit. I live in a block of flats and I stay at the topmost flat. You will have to climb about fifty (50) stairs to get to my home. Yep, no lifts at all. It's not as terrible as it sounds :-). I see it as a great form of exercise. I usually run up and down the stairs instead of walking. Okay, back to my gist: When I opened the door and saw them, I felt sorry for them, but at the same time, wanted to laugh. :-D. My dad wasn't home and they were looking tired probably from climbing up the stairs. The following conversation ensued between us:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Che: &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: yellow;"&gt;Ahhhh&lt;/span&gt;,&amp;nbsp;good-afternoon, welcome (smiling warmly)&lt;br /&gt;Them: Thank you (They have a seat). Is daddy at home?&lt;br /&gt;Che: No, he&amp;nbsp;traveled.&lt;br /&gt;Them: (Looking crestfallen). Really.&lt;br /&gt;Che: Don't you have his number?&lt;br /&gt;Them: We do, but we thought he would be at home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I served them drinks, they rested for a while and left.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My people, what is the essence of having a phone if you can't call first before going to visit&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: yellow;"&gt; ehnnnn&lt;/span&gt;? I can't believe in this day and age of mobile phones, someone will stress himself (especially in Lagos) and embark on a journey to visit without calling first. It doesn't make sense to me at all. Even if it is a very good friend or family member that you want to visit, put a call through first. The person might have other engagements for the day and you could arrange to visit some other time or the person might just want to rest and not want to&amp;nbsp;receive&amp;nbsp;any visitors that day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Can you imagine leaving your house in Surulere (whether in your own car or public transport) and going all the way to Satellite town to visit someone; only to get there and not meet the person.&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: yellow;"&gt; Chai&lt;/span&gt;, with the traffic and time wasted, that is just crazy. I value my time and hate stress and know people do too, so I always call first before visiting.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/50444862352948690-8887627543038464080?l=naijabankgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://naijabankgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/8887627543038464080/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://naijabankgirl.blogspot.com/2011/11/avoidable-stress.html#comment-form' title='22 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/50444862352948690/posts/default/8887627543038464080'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/50444862352948690/posts/default/8887627543038464080'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://naijabankgirl.blogspot.com/2011/11/avoidable-stress.html' title='AVOIDABLE STRESS'/><author><name>Che</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12087573646392976170</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-JT6F9_ZCN8Y/TxHgrK4rJEI/AAAAAAAAAE4/OqNxMovz6PQ/s220/sexy%2Bshoes1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>22</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-50444862352948690.post-4100580768170730778</id><published>2011-11-04T00:09:00.001+01:00</published><updated>2011-11-04T00:12:31.991+01:00</updated><title type='text'>FREE ME JOR :-D</title><content type='html'>My Branch Manager *Bimbo resumed work 3weeks ago after her maternity leave. We were all happy to see her back in the office (well, most of &amp;nbsp;us were). She resumed on a&amp;nbsp;Thursday&amp;nbsp;and so she joined us for our weekly meeting. After the meeting, I was about to leave to go and sort out some things, when she called me. Apparently, while the meeting was going on, she had looked down and noticed that *Yewande (my colleague) was wearing peep-toe shoes and she felt it wasn't in line with the bank's&amp;nbsp;dress code. Who else to table the matter to than me: the service co-ordinator. *Yewande was all too pleased to meet with me because she knows most of my work shoes are peep-toe. When *Bimbo saw my shoes, she shook her head and said: "You as the service co-ordinator are supposed to lead by example". I explained to her that the shoes are in line with the bank's policy on dressing. *Bimbo looked at me like she didn't believe what I just said, she said some things and eventually left.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is the kind of situation where my Mum would have said &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: yellow;"&gt;"Ana ko ozo, ndi mmadu ana ko ozo"&lt;/span&gt; meaning "We are discussing something important, while some other people are talking about trivial things". In other words, instead of her to think of ways that the branch can make profit and move forward, she is bothering herself with the kind of shoes we wear to work. *smh*. I had written a post on: &amp;nbsp;&lt;a href="http://naijabankgirl.blogspot.com/"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: yellow;"&gt;THE RITUAL OF WHAT TO WEAR&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: yellow;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;and here was *Bimbo trying to make matters worse for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I thought that would be the end of the matter, but *Bimbo didn't think so. Three days later, I had forgotten all about the shoe conversation with her when I saw her approaching. She immediately asked me if I had clarified on the kind of shoes we were allowed to wear to work. In my mind, I was wondering what her problem was. Had she finished thinking of how her new son was coping with the nanny and mummy not been around, had she finished sorting out what her family would eat for the week? Madam, free me &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: yellow;"&gt;abeg&lt;/span&gt;. I politely told her that I would do that immediately.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got back to my seat and *Yewande was on chat with me. I told her the latest development on the shoe matter and she suggested that we chat with *Shade (the overall co-ordinator of the service management group). We did, and *Shade took her time to explain what we could wear and what we couldn't wear. At the end of our discussion with her, we&amp;nbsp;realized&amp;nbsp;that we were not wrong to wear the peep-toe shoes (as long as it was fully covered at the back). I quickly saved our chat in my mail for record purposes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;So far, *Bimbo has not asked me about the shoes again. If she does, I will send her a mail with an attachment of the chat, so she will hear from the horses mouth that we are not wrong. Below are pictures I took of my shoes. I wish I could wear the pair of blue sandals to work, but that one is so not office like. However, I rock the red peep-toe shoes to the office.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-cec-GFL6xSY/TrMW9sZyuQI/AAAAAAAAABg/zNlwT9dTxVQ/s1600/blue+sandal.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-cec-GFL6xSY/TrMW9sZyuQI/AAAAAAAAABg/zNlwT9dTxVQ/s320/blue+sandal.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-yEy1XKJv6SM/TrMXFwlJJ7I/AAAAAAAAABo/copHwokNpI4/s1600/red+peep+toe.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-yEy1XKJv6SM/TrMXFwlJJ7I/AAAAAAAAABo/copHwokNpI4/s320/red+peep+toe.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I LOVE shoes. ;-D. I'm sure a lot of ladies do. I have a preference for peep-toe shoes. I like the fact that my feet are able to breathe. Oh well, that is all for now folks....... Will be back later with more gists.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/50444862352948690-4100580768170730778?l=naijabankgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://naijabankgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/4100580768170730778/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://naijabankgirl.blogspot.com/2011/11/free-me-jor-d.html#comment-form' title='19 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/50444862352948690/posts/default/4100580768170730778'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/50444862352948690/posts/default/4100580768170730778'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://naijabankgirl.blogspot.com/2011/11/free-me-jor-d.html' title='FREE ME JOR :-D'/><author><name>Che</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12087573646392976170</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-JT6F9_ZCN8Y/TxHgrK4rJEI/AAAAAAAAAE4/OqNxMovz6PQ/s220/sexy%2Bshoes1.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-cec-GFL6xSY/TrMW9sZyuQI/AAAAAAAAABg/zNlwT9dTxVQ/s72-c/blue+sandal.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>19</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-50444862352948690.post-437201162888729811</id><published>2011-11-03T00:35:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2011-11-03T00:35:50.353+01:00</updated><title type='text'>MY ABUJA TRIP</title><content type='html'>I&amp;nbsp;traveled&amp;nbsp;to Abuja last week&amp;nbsp;Tuesday&amp;nbsp;(25th&amp;nbsp;of Oct) to do &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: yellow;"&gt;omugwo&lt;/span&gt; for my sister that just put to bed. I hadn't been to Abuja in seven years. I didn't really plan my journey because I wasn't sure if my leave would be approved or not. If I had been sure of my leave, I could have booked a flight ahead of time and gotten it at a cheap rate. By the time my leave was approved, I checked flight fares and it was high so i decided to travel by road. My sister said &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: yellow;"&gt;Ekene &lt;/span&gt;luxurious bus was reliable and I bought my ticket a day before. I arrived at the bus park by 6:00am, the bus took their time to &amp;nbsp;load and we eventually left by some minutes to 7am. It's been a long time since I&amp;nbsp;traveled&amp;nbsp;in a luxurious bus. My last time was while I was in the university.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;I noticed that the bus was just moving &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: yellow;"&gt;jejeli &lt;/span&gt;and I didn't find it funny. Before we got to Ibadan, we had stopped more than three times to check the radiator. Apparently, the radiator was overheating and so we couldn't speed and had to keep stopping at intervals to "cool it". I'm sure the transport company knew that the car wasn't in top shape, and still decided to put it out on the road. This annoyed me because they didn't have regards for human life. As far as I was concerned, they were just interested in collecting their fares and hitting the road. By the time we got to &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: yellow;"&gt;Ekiti &lt;/span&gt;at 1pm, the driver parked in what seemed to be a car wash and decided to really "cool the radiator".&amp;nbsp;The&amp;nbsp;air-conditions&amp;nbsp;had long been switched off and the heat was unbearable.&amp;nbsp;Most people were muttering to themselves and saying that they would &amp;nbsp;never travel with &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: yellow;"&gt;Ekene&lt;/span&gt; again. I was too pissed to talk and had resigned myself to arriving at Abuja late. I also kept switching my phone on and off to preserve my battery which was running down. We eventually arrived Abuja at 12:05am. I heaved a sigh of relief and thanked God for a safe trip. I was also very glad to see that my brother-in-law &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: yellow;"&gt;*Osaro &lt;/span&gt;was already waiting for me at the park.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had a pretty busy but brief stay in Abuja. My little nephew is an absolute darling. The guy doesn't cry, well except he is hungry, hot or needs a diaper change which is normal. I have met some babies that just love to cry for no apparent reasons. :-(. &amp;nbsp;I got to visit the &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: yellow;"&gt;Garki&lt;/span&gt; Old Market (had to do some shopping for my sis.). The first thing that struck me about the market was that you had to pay a gate fee (N100) before you can drive in. I had never seen that happen in any Lagos market before. The market was also organized and wasn't as razz as our very own &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: yellow;"&gt;Balogun&lt;/span&gt; or &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: yellow;"&gt;Oyingbo &lt;/span&gt;markets. Items were a bit more expensive though than in Lagos.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On Saturday, &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: yellow;"&gt;*Osaro &lt;/span&gt;decided to take me around a bit&amp;nbsp;en route&amp;nbsp;to the market again. Our first stop was the Grand Square. I had already eaten their bread and loved it and also couldn't wait to taste their famous scoops of ice cream. It was delicious and worth the wait. Then we were off to &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: yellow;"&gt;Yahuza Suya&lt;/span&gt; Spot. &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: yellow;"&gt;*Osaro&lt;/span&gt; said &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: yellow;"&gt;Yahuza&lt;/span&gt; has about 7 of such &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: yellow;"&gt;suya&lt;/span&gt; spots in Abuja. This &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: yellow;"&gt;suya&lt;/span&gt; spot was organized and very different from the Lagos &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: yellow;"&gt;suya &lt;/span&gt;spots I had been to. To place your order here, you walk into the building, chose what you want: chicken, gizzard, kidney, liver, beef, etc. from the menu in front of the cashier, and pay to the cashier. The cashier then inputs your order, prints out a receipt and gives to you. This receipt is what you present to the &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: yellow;"&gt;suya&lt;/span&gt; man outside who prepares your order. Interesting and organized if you ask me. The &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: yellow;"&gt;suya&lt;/span&gt; was spicy and good. Got me licking my fingers. :-). We also bought some bottles of &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: yellow;"&gt;Fura De Nu Nu &lt;/span&gt;for my sister. She is quite adventurous when it comes to food.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Our final stop before dashing to the market was at the &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: yellow;"&gt;Shagalinku &lt;/span&gt;Shop. I totally love &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: yellow;"&gt;Shagalinku&lt;/span&gt;&amp;nbsp;Yogurt. Its creamy and&amp;nbsp;nutritious. I think it's peculiar to Abuja and some parts of the north. My sister always buys it whenever she is coming to visit us in Lagos. You can bet I did the same. My siblings would not find it funny if i came back without it. I also bought loads of &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: yellow;"&gt;Kilishi.&lt;/span&gt; My siblings and colleagues had drummed it into my ears to buy enough for everyone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All too soon, it was time for me to return to Lagos because my leave was almost over. I had sworn never to use luxurious buses to travel again and so opted for a small bus. *&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: yellow;"&gt;Osaro &lt;/span&gt;recommended Eagle Line. The bus left a little bit late because they needed more Lagos bound passengers which were not forthcoming. We made a stop at Lokoja to eat and also scout for more passengers. We eventually got into Lagos at 7pm. The trip was ok and the driver was quite fast.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I miss my nephew so much already. And I'm trying not to think of the fact that I have to resume work on Friday. Happy New Month to you all. May you achieve all you have set out to do in this month of November. In Jesus Name. Amen. &amp;nbsp;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/50444862352948690-437201162888729811?l=naijabankgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://naijabankgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/437201162888729811/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://naijabankgirl.blogspot.com/2011/11/my-abuja-trip.html#comment-form' title='21 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/50444862352948690/posts/default/437201162888729811'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/50444862352948690/posts/default/437201162888729811'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://naijabankgirl.blogspot.com/2011/11/my-abuja-trip.html' title='MY ABUJA TRIP'/><author><name>Che</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12087573646392976170</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-JT6F9_ZCN8Y/TxHgrK4rJEI/AAAAAAAAAE4/OqNxMovz6PQ/s220/sexy%2Bshoes1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>21</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-50444862352948690.post-1744416595698571083</id><published>2011-10-24T23:51:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2011-10-24T23:51:46.718+01:00</updated><title type='text'>THIS ENGLISH SEF...........</title><content type='html'>I am the assistant service co-ordinator in my branch. The service co-ordinator is on maternity leave, so I'm more or less the co-ordinator for now. Some of my responsibilities include ensuring that my colleagues dress appropriately in line with the bank's dresscode, ensuring that prompt and efficient service delivery is given to customers, ensuring that the environment and banking hall is always neat, that customer complaints are handled professionally and the problem solved. You all get the drift &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: yellow;"&gt;abi&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Every thursday morning, we hold a meeting to deliberate on any branch issues, achievements, train ourselves, etc. This meeting is applicable bankwide. Thursdays are not my favourite days because I have to wake up extra early to make it for the meeting. Lateness or absenteeism from the meeting without any&amp;nbsp;cogent&amp;nbsp;reason attracts a sanction. And been the service co-ordinator, I have to set a good example. At the end of the meeting, the secretary: *Laura* sends the minutes to me to edit before I forward same to our service management group. Sounds pretty easy right, WRONGGGGGGGGGG!!!!!!!!!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The mere thought of editing the minutes just makes me tired. Once *Laura* sends it to  my mail and I open it, it's almost as if the errors in it just pop out chanting *lalalalala, it's time to give you a headache, lalalalala*. :-(. I'm not saying that I'm perfect in English o, but *Laura's* errors make me shudder. Everyone is allowed to make the occassional error now and then, but when it becomes FULL BLOWN AND CONSTANT, then there is a problem. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She writes almost all through in small letters and omits basic punctuations. She just writes long sentences and jumbles everything up. It's difficult to say where one sentence ends and another begins. *phew*. If I wasn't there for the meeting, I would not have any idea of what she typed in the minutes. It gets so bad that I have to reread a sentence over and over again to grasp what she is trying to say. I read sentences like:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: yellow;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;"the poor elimination of the banking hall is very poor and does not befit a banking hall", "you need to volunteer your time by working with an extra time especially when you have pending work to do at your working place", "the link in his office is going on and off due to the foltty pot", "the security men should make sure that all customers who walk into the branch to see any officer should not just be allowed to walk passed them and barge into the staff office without prior information to the staff concern".&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;SAY WHATTTTTTT........... Let me spare you all the horror. This is actually just a tip of what I have to edit every week. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes, my colleagues help me to edit it, but most of the time, they are occupied with their different duties. One day I was gisting with a colleague of mine and he said he attended the same school with *Laura*. Oh, really, I said, so what course did she study? He responded: SECRETARIAL STUDIES. I just smiled and said, that's nice o. But in my mind, I'm saying, you don't say.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;As soon as she sends the minutes to me, she starts to disturb me. *Laura* would see me going to eat and ask, Che, have you seen the minutes I sent to you? I would nod at her and say, Yes I have. I will work on it as soon as I'm less busy. She would see me later in the day and remind me 2 or 3 times again. *insert very tired look*. Madam, I &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: yellow;"&gt;don &lt;/span&gt;hear &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: yellow;"&gt;na&lt;/span&gt;. I'm trying to psyche myself to edit it. &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: yellow;"&gt;Abi&lt;/span&gt; you think say &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: yellow;"&gt;na beans&lt;/span&gt;?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes, I think she knows about the errors she makes. Maybe that is why she constantly reminds me to edit the minutes and help save her face. I feel sorry for her and have often wondered if I should tell her or not. So far, I have decided against it because people can be funny. We are not friends like that, just colleagues. She might take it the wrong way, and I no want &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: yellow;"&gt;wahala.&lt;/span&gt; Or what do you guys think?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/50444862352948690-1744416595698571083?l=naijabankgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://naijabankgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/1744416595698571083/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://naijabankgirl.blogspot.com/2011/10/this-english-sef.html#comment-form' title='16 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/50444862352948690/posts/default/1744416595698571083'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/50444862352948690/posts/default/1744416595698571083'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://naijabankgirl.blogspot.com/2011/10/this-english-sef.html' title='THIS ENGLISH SEF...........'/><author><name>Che</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12087573646392976170</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-JT6F9_ZCN8Y/TxHgrK4rJEI/AAAAAAAAAE4/OqNxMovz6PQ/s220/sexy%2Bshoes1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>16</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-50444862352948690.post-2623173883645254058</id><published>2011-10-22T19:07:00.002+01:00</published><updated>2011-10-22T20:07:33.946+01:00</updated><title type='text'>WELCOME TO THIS BEAUTIFUL WORLD</title><content type='html'>My sister *Nneka* gave birth this morning. yaaaaayyyyyyyyyyy *dancing around*. I'm super excited to be an aunty again. We thank God for a safe delivery. Mother, son and father are all doing great. What adds to my excitement sef is that he is the fourth October kid in my family. Yeah, you heard me right. We are four super special, warm and large hearted October children in my family. Lemme break it down for you. I was born on the 9th of October. My sister (the latest mum in town :-)) was born on the 15th. My brother: on the 24th and now my nephew: on the 22nd. Isn't that totally AWESOME. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I remember asking *Nneka* when her expected month of delivery was and she said October, i let out a whoop and danced round my room. I told her that she has to give birth on either of our birthdays. *grins*. I also told her that even if labour starts, she should hold the baby in until it's any of our birthday, then she can drop. :-D. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometime last week, she sent me a pix of her preggy tommy via bb chat. I went all ewwwwww, I don't want to see that. I want to see my little nephew. She said she had taken some pictures with her hubby while pregnant, but she didn't have any nice one to send to me. I told her no worries, that they could always go to a studio and take some pretty shots and she could send it later. I woke up this morning and saw her ping that said " no more hubby and me snapping while preggers, because we are on our way to the hospital". I said a word of prayer for her and wished her God's speed and strength. I thank God for His faithfulness in my sister's life. Below is my adorable nephew:  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-s1Fr3Ln-_X8/TqMEuSb5fKI/AAAAAAAAABY/F6dnhYc3RxY/s1600/ada%2527s%2Bson.jpg" imageanchor="1" style=""&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" width="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-s1Fr3Ln-_X8/TqMEuSb5fKI/AAAAAAAAABY/F6dnhYc3RxY/s320/ada%2527s%2Bson.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;May God protect you. May He cause His face to shine upon you. May you be a source of pride and joy to your family and to the world. May you fulfil your purpose here on earth. May you not shut the womb of your mother. May you grow in the knowledge, wisdom and favour of the Lord. Your name shall be mentioned among the great men in this world. In Jesus Mighty Name. AMENNNNNNNNNN.  Nnnnoooooo my darling nephew. *MUAH*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I will be taking my remaining 10 days leave from work next week. I can't wait to get to Abuja to do omugwo. :-D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P.S: I would like to wish everyone born in October a very happy birthday. They are too numerous to mention and I wouldn't like to omit any name. We sure are special people. God bless you all.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/50444862352948690-2623173883645254058?l=naijabankgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://naijabankgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/2623173883645254058/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://naijabankgirl.blogspot.com/2011/10/welcome-to-this-beautiful-world.html#comment-form' title='11 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/50444862352948690/posts/default/2623173883645254058'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/50444862352948690/posts/default/2623173883645254058'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://naijabankgirl.blogspot.com/2011/10/welcome-to-this-beautiful-world.html' title='WELCOME TO THIS BEAUTIFUL WORLD'/><author><name>Che</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12087573646392976170</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-JT6F9_ZCN8Y/TxHgrK4rJEI/AAAAAAAAAE4/OqNxMovz6PQ/s220/sexy%2Bshoes1.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-s1Fr3Ln-_X8/TqMEuSb5fKI/AAAAAAAAABY/F6dnhYc3RxY/s72-c/ada%2527s%2Bson.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>11</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-50444862352948690.post-2540873357648865881</id><published>2011-10-20T23:25:00.001+01:00</published><updated>2011-10-21T00:04:22.102+01:00</updated><title type='text'>MY FIRST BLOG AWARD *grinning happily*</title><content type='html'>I received the Versatile Blogger Award from&amp;nbsp;&lt;a href="http://toinlicious.blogspot.com/"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: yellow;"&gt;Toinlicious&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&amp;nbsp;and&amp;nbsp;&lt;a href="http://jemima-joyofmyworld.blogspot.com/"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: yellow;"&gt;Jemima&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&amp;nbsp;and the Stylish and Versatile Blog Award from&amp;nbsp;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: yellow;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://honeydame1.blogspot.com/"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: yellow;"&gt;HoneyDame&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;and I feel so excited because this is my very first award. It means a lot to me to know that people take out time to read what i wrote. It's more amazing because these are people that I don't know but they already feel like family. Thanks a lot dearies *HUGGGSSSSS*.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The rules of the awards are quite simple:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Thank the person who gave you the award and link back to them in your post.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Share 7 things about yourself.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Pass this award to 15 recently discovered blogs and let them know about it.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;div&gt;I have done the first one. Here goes the second rule:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Hmmmmm, what 7 seven things about me should I share? Well, here we go:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;1) I love to sing: I sing to myself anytime and anywhere. I learn the lyrics of songs easily and can start to sing along after listening to a song once. I was in the choir in school, but somehow, have not gotten round to joining my church choir.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;2) I am a girlie girl. I love to dress up and do the whole matching colors stuff, from&amp;nbsp;jewelry&amp;nbsp;(beads and any kind of jewelry) to&amp;nbsp;eye-shadow, to nail colors, to clothes and even my undies. The whole works. ;-)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;3) I love the Lord and try to please Him in all I do. I marvel each day at God's faithfulness in my life.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;4) I get irritated at people that ask silly questions: For eg., You see me dressing up and carrying my bag to go out and you ask me if I'm going out. I tell such a person, no, I'm about to go and take my bath. It's obvious &amp;nbsp;that I'm going out &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: yellow;"&gt;na&lt;/span&gt;. *kmt*&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;5) I have battled pimples and acne on my face since I was in secondary school. I took a lot of fried groundnuts while in secondary school and I guess it contributed to it. I have used all sorts of things, visited dermatologists and heeded to the advise of many. I don tire &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: yellow;"&gt;abeg&lt;/span&gt;. Sometimes, it clears and I feel like one very pretty babe. Other times, it just comes all out as if they want to wage a war on my face. I guess I react to somethings. I have stopped using all those different things on my face and try not to let it bother me.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;6) I feel hot easily and so do not like been out in the sun. My &amp;nbsp;friends say it's because I'm used to the&amp;nbsp;air-conditions at home, work and everywhere. Of course that does not mean that I don't go out under the sun. I just get irritated when I'm hot. I tell my siblings that I will have an air-conditon in my kitchen and we would all laugh.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;7) I love to sleep. I no fit shout am enough &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: yellow;"&gt;sef.&lt;/span&gt; As in, &amp;nbsp;I sleep in the bus on my way back from work. If I'm following my colleague, it's better &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: yellow;"&gt;sef,&lt;/span&gt; because the&amp;nbsp;air-condition&amp;nbsp;go &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: yellow;"&gt;dey&lt;/span&gt; cool my &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: yellow;"&gt;borri.&lt;/span&gt; If I'm bored, hungry, angry, happy, sad, anything, and anywhere, I can just sleep. It's crazy. :-D. Surprisingly, I'm not a deep sleeper.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Now to the final part:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I am a newbie on blogsville, but had been following some blogs silently even before I started blogging. These are a few of the blogs I discovered:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;a href="http://talithaschronicles.blogspot.com/"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: yellow;"&gt;Gee&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;a href="http://woahnigeria.wordpress.com/"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: yellow;"&gt;Esco&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;a href="http://royremi.blogspot.com/"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: yellow;"&gt;RemiRoy&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;a href="http://bellezworld4real.blogspot.com/"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: yellow;"&gt;Ema Leecious&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;a href="http://atilola.blogspot.com/"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: yellow;"&gt;@ilola&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;a href="http://cherrychatter.blogspot.com/"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: yellow;"&gt;CherryWine&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;a href="http://apysworld.blogspot.com/"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: yellow;"&gt;Priscy&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.exschoolnerd.net/"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: yellow;"&gt;exschoolnerd&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;a href="http://a9jagreat.blogspot.com/"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: yellow;"&gt;A-9ja-Great&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;a href="http://nonyeanike.blogspot.com/"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: yellow;"&gt;Nonye&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;a href="http://thepetprojects.blogspot.com/"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: yellow;"&gt;P.E.T Projects&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;a href="http://temiville.wordpress.com/"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: yellow;"&gt;temiville&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;a href="http://coyintrovert.blogspot.com/"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: yellow;"&gt;Coy-Introvert&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;a href="http://singlenaijamum.blogspot.com/"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: yellow;"&gt;singlenaijamum&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;a href="http://deedeesdigs.blogspot.com/"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: yellow;"&gt;Dee Dee&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;div&gt;I discover new blogs everyday and will be following them too. You all rock. *HUGGGSSSS*&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/50444862352948690-2540873357648865881?l=naijabankgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://naijabankgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/2540873357648865881/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://naijabankgirl.blogspot.com/2011/10/my-first-blog-award-grinning-happily_20.html#comment-form' title='21 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/50444862352948690/posts/default/2540873357648865881'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/50444862352948690/posts/default/2540873357648865881'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://naijabankgirl.blogspot.com/2011/10/my-first-blog-award-grinning-happily_20.html' title='MY FIRST BLOG AWARD *grinning happily*'/><author><name>Che</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12087573646392976170</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-JT6F9_ZCN8Y/TxHgrK4rJEI/AAAAAAAAAE4/OqNxMovz6PQ/s220/sexy%2Bshoes1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>21</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-50444862352948690.post-3841065608062754550</id><published>2011-10-16T16:45:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2011-10-16T16:45:27.923+01:00</updated><title type='text'>NOTE TO SELF</title><content type='html'>I love traditional attires. The different types of materials with their colors are so attractive, and the fact that I am able to sew whatever I want with them is simply oh la lacious. I have a lot of them in different trendy styles and rock them whenever an opportunity presents itself. I have however noticed something about most if not all of my traditional wears. The zips on the tops or gowns are sewn in such a way that I always need help with them. Luckily for me, I always have my brother around whenever I have had to wear such traditional attires. He would always grumble and say that he doesn't understand why I can't sew clothes that I can zip by myself. It's either that the top is really fitting and I would need him to help me with the zip, or somehow my hands cannot reach the zip. I always used to laugh and tell him that he should count it as a privilege that he is able to help me: his big sis.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As is the norm with me, I arrange the clothes I want to wear a day before, so that I won't waste time in the morning. I had decided at night that I would wear a mint green french lace long skirt and blouse to church today. I woke up this morning and started preparing for church. I took my time to apply my green eyeshadow to match my attire. I had also laid out my green and cream matching beads on the bed. Only for me to wear the blouse and realised that I couldn't zip it up. &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: yellow;"&gt;Chai&lt;/span&gt;, I tried my best, but no way. And being that I was the only one at home, I had to take it off. It was either I looked for something else that had green on it to wear because I couldn't imagine starting the process of making up all over, or I just wear anything even if it doesn't match my green eyeshadow (all of them &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: yellow;"&gt;na&lt;/span&gt; fashion &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: yellow;"&gt;na&lt;/span&gt; :-) ). And I didn't have a lot of time on my hands because I didn't want to be late for church.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Luckily for me, I saw my green skirt (thankfully, it was clean and ironed) and paired it with a cream short sleeved jacket and hurriedly left for church. I missed out on the praise &amp;amp; worship at the beginning of service, but God had greater things in mind for me. The message today was AWESOME, I needed to hear God speak to me about His GRACE. I re learnt that it's God's Grace and Favour that has kept me and brought me thus far. It became clearer to me that God is never too late. His ways are definitely not our ways. He will show up when He wants to and all the Glory will be to Him alone. I therefore choose to speak forth Favour into my life, my family, my career, business, finances, health, and all that concerns me. I grow in levels of Grace. Where many have tried and failed, therein will I succeed, because I have the Grace and Favour of God at work in me. Hallelujah.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the middle of service, there was an unexpected anointing service and I also had a glorious time&amp;nbsp;worshiping&amp;nbsp;and&amp;nbsp;extolling&amp;nbsp;the name of the Lord. Indeed, He is worthy of our praise.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have made a mental note however, not to ever sew my traditional attires in such a way that I cannot zip them myself. It's either the zip is by the side or I don't even know &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: yellow;"&gt;sef&lt;/span&gt;. &amp;nbsp;No be the one I will have a wedding to attend and will have a problem wearing the &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: yellow;"&gt;ashoebi&lt;/span&gt; because I will need someone to help me with the zip. ;-D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hope you all had a wonderful&amp;nbsp;Sunday&amp;nbsp;service.....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/50444862352948690-3841065608062754550?l=naijabankgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://naijabankgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/3841065608062754550/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://naijabankgirl.blogspot.com/2011/10/note-to-self.html#comment-form' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/50444862352948690/posts/default/3841065608062754550'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/50444862352948690/posts/default/3841065608062754550'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://naijabankgirl.blogspot.com/2011/10/note-to-self.html' title='NOTE TO SELF'/><author><name>Che</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12087573646392976170</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-JT6F9_ZCN8Y/TxHgrK4rJEI/AAAAAAAAAE4/OqNxMovz6PQ/s220/sexy%2Bshoes1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-50444862352948690.post-1005419096247645296</id><published>2011-10-15T23:20:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2011-10-15T23:20:59.656+01:00</updated><title type='text'>PATIENCE: A VIRTUE INDEED</title><content type='html'>I haven't blogged in a long while and I sincerely&amp;nbsp;apologize&amp;nbsp;for that. I have been so so busy in the office and pretty much occupied over the weekends. I always told myself to write, even if it was just a short post, but i never got around to doing that. Well, that is until now. For the past one month, I have been relieving my Customer Service Officer (CSO) in the office. That desk is FULL. And to worsen matters, I had no real knowledge of the job functions required of me. Let me just take you all back a little. At first, the plan was that I would be the one to relieve her. So everyday when I returned to the main branch from my cash center, I quickly went over to her desk and tried to learn one or two things. It was tedious to say the least because at that time, I am so tired and everyone is in a hurry to close and leave the office. After a while, my boss said that i wouldn't be the one to relieve her, so i &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: yellow;"&gt;jejeli&lt;/span&gt; relaxed on the learning and continued my normal job. A few days to when she was to begin her leave, my boss changes his mind and decides that i would be the one to relieve her after all. &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: yellow;"&gt;Na so&lt;/span&gt; i picked up my notebook again and resumed the "come back from my cash center and learn &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: yellow;"&gt;thingy"&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While on the CSO desk, I constantly need to pad myself with extra doses of patience both for internal customers (my colleagues) and external customers. It's almost as if some customers are sent to try your patience. Once, an elderly man came to make a deposit. After filling his deposit slip, he asked me to confirm the account number on the system to know if it was correct. I checked it and it wasn't correct. I told him. He instantly flared up and said: "I have been paying money into this account almost everyday and to simply &amp;nbsp;confirm the account number on the system, you cannot. You are a novice, bla bla bla". I was just looking at the man and didn't say a word. Upon checking the text message on his phone, he realised that he wrote a figure wrongly. He corrected it and I confirmed that it was the correct account number and he left. I just shook my head.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For some people, they will enter the bank and forget the account number they want to make the deposit into. Such people walk over to the CSO's desk and ask the officer to check on the system and assist them in getting the account number. It is possible to do that, but it can be difficult especially when the names are common. For instance, a guy walks in and says: "Madam, please help me look for the account number of Mr Adamu Abubakar, he opened his account in this branch", sometimes, they will not know the branch. Helloooooo, there can be a million and one Adamu Abubakar names as account holders in the branch. &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: yellow;"&gt;I no fit&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: yellow;"&gt;abeg,&lt;/span&gt; before I give you the wrong Adamu Abubakar's account number and you will say &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: yellow;"&gt;na me&lt;/span&gt; give you. I politely explain to such people and tell them to call the owner of the account to re-text his account number.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There is so much to do that some times, I don't get to eat until after the close of work. I remain very grateful to the CSO's in our other branches who would always respond via office chat or calls to rescue me. "massive hugs to you guys". I knew nothing about how to open accounts, issue&amp;nbsp;ATM&amp;nbsp;cards, cheque books and all that.&lt;br /&gt;But, I'm proud to say that i learnt them albeit under a lot of pressure. Sometimes, customers are delayed, especially if there are lots of them that need my attention. I adopt the first come, first served basis and&amp;nbsp;apologize&amp;nbsp;profusely for the delay.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now on to my colleagues: the marketers. Hmmmm, this ones give me headache almost on a daily basis. I got to see some of them in a whole new light. Before I became the relief CSO, my relationship with them was just there: Hi, Hello, Could you help me check my customer's balance?, things like that. But being on that CSO desk, I have&amp;nbsp;realized&amp;nbsp;that some of them are just not it at all. We all know their major duty is to convince people to open accounts and maintain a relationship with such customers. I know it's tough out there with the competition and all and I appreciate the effort they all put. I would however like to appeal to the marketers out there to do a thorough job on the account opening packages before handing them over to the CSO to open. Help us to do our own jobs &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: yellow;"&gt;ehnnn abeg&lt;/span&gt;. We are there to serve these your customers when they come in to transact business with the bank.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I always have issues with two of our marketers. Once I see an account package and either of there names is there as the account officer, my EXTRA CAREFUL antennae goes up. :-). There is always something wrong with the packages they bring in. I always find errors such as the intended account holder not signing in the required places or not filling the spaces on the account opening form where basic things like "date of birth", "occupation", "next of kin" etc are supposed to be. And my dearly beloved marketers will rush and drop the account package for me to quickly open the account. They would always say "Che, please hurry up with this one, the customer needs his account number and cheque book /&amp;nbsp;ATM&amp;nbsp;card immediately". I hear you. &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: yellow;"&gt;Shay&lt;/span&gt; i will formulate "date of birth" and "next of kin" for your customers &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: yellow;"&gt;abi&lt;/span&gt;. "smh". I have had to call back these same marketers a lot of times to show them the unfilled parts, and remind them that these information are important.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I understand that they are under a lot of pressure to meet their targets and all that. But I am also under a lot of pressure to deliver quality and prompt service to the customers. I have shouted at and argued with these two ladies and they still repeat the same mistakes. "insert tired look". We always make up, but the cycle continues. Mehnnnnnn, I can't wait for the CSO to resume and take over her duties from me, so I can be rid of the marketers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This past one month on this desk has been very challenging but interesting too. Unlike the Tellering or Cash Officer's or even the Funds Transfer desk where at the end of the day, you know you have closed your books for that day, on the CSO's desk, work no &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: yellow;"&gt;dey &lt;/span&gt;finish at all. I learnt to do my best for the day, handle the ones that are top priority and leave the rest for the next day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P.S: I &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: yellow;"&gt;throway&lt;/span&gt; 3 &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: yellow;"&gt;GBOSA's&lt;/span&gt; to all the CSO's out there. &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: yellow;"&gt;Una dey&lt;/span&gt; try no be small. And I appeal to every bank marketer and even workers out there. Please do your jobs thoroughly to enable your&amp;nbsp;colleagues&amp;nbsp;do their part without too much stress.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P.P.S: Sorry for the long post. I just needed to rant. :-D&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/50444862352948690-1005419096247645296?l=naijabankgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://naijabankgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/1005419096247645296/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://naijabankgirl.blogspot.com/2011/10/patience-virtue-indeed.html#comment-form' title='10 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/50444862352948690/posts/default/1005419096247645296'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/50444862352948690/posts/default/1005419096247645296'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://naijabankgirl.blogspot.com/2011/10/patience-virtue-indeed.html' title='PATIENCE: A VIRTUE INDEED'/><author><name>Che</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12087573646392976170</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-JT6F9_ZCN8Y/TxHgrK4rJEI/AAAAAAAAAE4/OqNxMovz6PQ/s220/sexy%2Bshoes1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>10</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-50444862352948690.post-8674536461099864579</id><published>2011-09-16T22:30:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2011-09-16T22:30:44.352+01:00</updated><title type='text'>RANDOM HAPPENINGS @ WORK</title><content type='html'>I love mints. It just feels good when I want to bring out money from my wallet and it's all crispy new notes. I also like the fresh smell. I understand why a lot of people want it when they come to the bank to withdraw, but some people really crave for it. I once had a boss, "Frank" and whenever he wants to withdraw, he would call on the intercom and say "CD" (the name my Hop gave me), I need to withdraw and I want mints in different denominations. Inform the Head of Operations (Hop) to make it available for me. I always used to laugh when he says this because he knew that we can't print mints if we don't have it in the branch. When I ask him why he always insists on having mints, "Frank" would say it just feels good to have them. I agree with him. Some weeks ago, I was at &amp;nbsp;home preparing for work when I received a text message. It read:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Morning Che, last night I dreamt that you were giving out N100 mints. Please come to the office with mints in lower denominations if you have. Cheers, "Felicia". I started laughing while thinking to myself,&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: yellow;"&gt; Chai, na so the mint dey do dem, so tay dem dey dream about me&lt;/span&gt;. Ok o. On getting to my cash center, "Felicia" comes to my office and we have the following conversation:&lt;br /&gt;"Felicia": Babe, morning. How far? Did you receive my text?&lt;br /&gt;Me: Yep, but &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: yellow;"&gt;pele&lt;/span&gt;, we don't have mints now.&lt;br /&gt;"Felicia": *Insert sad face*, &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: yellow;"&gt;Ahhhhhhh&lt;/span&gt;, i really needed to use it this weekend &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: yellow;"&gt;o ehnnn.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sorry &amp;nbsp;to disappoint you dear, but maybe when next you dream about mints, somehow we would have it. :-)&lt;br /&gt;*****&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We had a customer in my former branch that just loved to be identified with the bank. "Oga Cosmas" could walk into our branch 20 times in a day (not exaggerating) to transact business. That was fine by us. What used to annoy me was that whenever he comes, he would always ask for the date and his account balance. Donning on his sunglasses and feeling like one &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: yellow;"&gt;nna&lt;/span&gt; man with loads of Igbo swagger (I am Igbo o, so i'm not hating :-)), "Oga Cosmas" would approach my cubicle and say "Sister, please check my balance (in a gruff Igbo business man voice). After I check his balance, if he wants to withdraw, he would ask "What is today's date?" And after paying him, he would ask for his balance again. *Insert tired face*, please my people, what is the essence of the debit and credit alerts you receive on your phone? What is the essence of having an account officer &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: yellow;"&gt;ehnnnn&lt;/span&gt;?&amp;nbsp;It didn't help matters that his office was two buildings away. So he could just stroll in and out of the branch.&amp;nbsp;At some point, I told my Hop that we would get "Oga Cosmas" a portable talking calendar as part of his christmas present from the branch, so he could always hear what the date was.&lt;br /&gt;*****&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Oga Nduka" feels like he is the landlord of my cash center. His transactions are mostly carried out there and i don't have a problem with that. But what irks me is the way he shouts when talking. He is an agent and in a way, I think it comes with their job. You need to hear him when he is on the phone or even talking to the young men that work for him. I always cringe and feel sorry for them. "&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: yellow;"&gt;Nna&lt;/span&gt;, how far with my container, has it landed? Emeka, go and sort out the&amp;nbsp;assessment&amp;nbsp;fees with the custom people. Don't you know that delay is dangerous and we are accumulating dummorage. Have you gone through the consignment that just came in to be sure everything is intact?" It's even worse when he is gisting with his friends. It seems to me as if they are in a competition to know whose voice is the loudest. More often than not, I give the award of the loudest voice to "Oga Nduka".&amp;nbsp;I also feel for his heart and other vital organs, because I feel he strains them when he shouts all the time. He needs to understand that life is not all about hustling and making money. One also needs to learn to relax and stay alive to enjoy the money.&amp;nbsp;Of recent though, he seldom stays in my cash center, so I now have some peace and quiet.&lt;br /&gt;*****&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't appreciate when customers walk up to me in the banking hall and start to speak Igbo or Yoruba. I just don't get it at all. When did any language apart from English become the official corporate language. Whenever any customer speaks any other language other than&amp;nbsp;English&amp;nbsp;to me, I just keep a straight face and allow him or her to finish &amp;nbsp;and i will say, I'm sorry, but i didn't understand what you just said. Of course I do understand Igbo, but people shouldn't go assuming that everyone does. Most times, the customer will then ask, Ooo, so where are you from? And with a sweet smile on my face, I would say I'm Hausa. My ID card is not always visible, so the customer won't be able to verify. But I'm sure they would just know that I am kidding. There was a time an elderly woman came for money transfer transaction. On realizing that the money was not yet reflecting in our system, she started speaking Yoruba to me. I had to use sign language to explain to her that I don't understand&amp;nbsp;Yoruba&amp;nbsp;and referred her to another colleague.&lt;br /&gt;*****&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That reminds me of another yarn. Why do people abroad send money to their aged parents using the parents name? Why not just send the money in the name of a sibling or relation who will then deliver it to Mama or Papa. I always feel sorry for the elderly people when they stress themselves to come to the bank. I guess the children or relations cannot be trusted to give the full amount of money to the aged beneficiaries.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Enough for now, the post is getting too long. I will be back later with more gist. :-)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/50444862352948690-8674536461099864579?l=naijabankgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://naijabankgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/8674536461099864579/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://naijabankgirl.blogspot.com/2011/09/random-happenings-work.html#comment-form' title='11 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/50444862352948690/posts/default/8674536461099864579'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/50444862352948690/posts/default/8674536461099864579'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://naijabankgirl.blogspot.com/2011/09/random-happenings-work.html' title='RANDOM HAPPENINGS @ WORK'/><author><name>Che</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12087573646392976170</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-JT6F9_ZCN8Y/TxHgrK4rJEI/AAAAAAAAAE4/OqNxMovz6PQ/s220/sexy%2Bshoes1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>11</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-50444862352948690.post-7425448335119080870</id><published>2011-09-09T23:19:00.004+01:00</published><updated>2011-09-09T23:32:22.009+01:00</updated><title type='text'>ON WINGS OF ANGELS</title><content type='html'>As is the norm with me, when I closed from my cash center at Kirikiri, I boarded my dispatch man's bike and we left for the main branch in Apapa. Thankfully, my route was free to an extent until we got to Tincan. We were following a &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: yellow;"&gt;Keke Napep &lt;/span&gt;behind when we saw an oncoming trailer loaded with two containers. It was a normal sight for me so there was no cause for alarm. The driver of the &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: yellow;"&gt;Keke&lt;/span&gt; however decided to misbehave.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe it was the fear of the oncoming trailer's size compared to his &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: yellow;"&gt;tuke tuke&lt;/span&gt; that made him unsure of his lane. Instead of him to focus and continue on his lane, he was heading straight for the trailer. The driver of the trailer while moving forward, started to sway from side to side. This was all in a bid to avoid the &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: yellow;"&gt;Keke&lt;/span&gt; and other vehicles following it. The containers on the trailer were also shaking (most of the time, these containers are not properly hinged on the trailers and that is why they sometimes fall off ).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We were getting close to the trailer and since there was no way to manouever around it, the dispatch man said: "&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: yellow;"&gt;Ahh, e be like say we go jump comot for road o since this trailer and keke dey act drama for here".&lt;/span&gt; When we were almost close to the trailer, we did some Jackie Chan moves and &amp;nbsp;jumped off the okada to the other side of the road. Thank God the other side of the road was deserted. I don't even want to think of what could have happend if there were moving vehicles on the other side of the road. Thank God also that I was wearing a pair of trouser suit. I &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: yellow;"&gt;for hear am&lt;/span&gt; if I was wearing one of my &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: yellow;"&gt;sisi&lt;/span&gt; like straight skirts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know where the speed came from to move that fast and whenever I recount the incident, I always tell people, that I must have been carried by an angel to the other side of the road because the distance was much. There was a tear on my jacket and my bag, but I wasn't injured, just a slight bruise on my knee. My dispatch man was also ok.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: yellow;"&gt;Keke &lt;/span&gt;swerved and the driver and his passengers also jumped out to avoid been hit by the trailer. The trailer hit our now empty bike down and screeched to a halt. To say I was in shock would be an understatement. Some passersby and passengers in the cars behind us quickly ran towards us to know if there were any casualities and also to render help. Shouts of praises to God could be heard all around us because there was no fatality.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;We were helped up, I dusted myself and tried to steady my nerves. I had never been so scared in my life as I was that day especially because of all the gist I have heard about accidents caused by trailers and some I had seen. After a while, when I was more composed, I got a ride to complete the last lap to my office. My dispatch man chose to continue the trip to the branch on his bike since it was ok.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have always known to be grateful to God for life, but that day, I was reminded that life is fleeting and everyday is a precious gift to be&amp;nbsp;savored. As I go through my day's activities, or whenever I go out and come back home, I thank God for His protection, mercies, faithfulness, love and so much more.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/50444862352948690-7425448335119080870?l=naijabankgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://naijabankgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/7425448335119080870/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://naijabankgirl.blogspot.com/2011/08/on-wings-of-angels.html#comment-form' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/50444862352948690/posts/default/7425448335119080870'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/50444862352948690/posts/default/7425448335119080870'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://naijabankgirl.blogspot.com/2011/08/on-wings-of-angels.html' title='ON WINGS OF ANGELS'/><author><name>Che</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12087573646392976170</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-JT6F9_ZCN8Y/TxHgrK4rJEI/AAAAAAAAAE4/OqNxMovz6PQ/s220/sexy%2Bshoes1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-50444862352948690.post-5019518065075192213</id><published>2011-08-31T06:45:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2011-08-31T22:46:44.243+01:00</updated><title type='text'>I WASN'T PROMOTED</title><content type='html'>There had been rumors going round in my bank about a promotion list coming out. I had heard it for so long that I even got tired of waiting for the list to come out. Last week Friday, the much awaited list finally came out and it was sent to everyone. Management was cunning and sent it after most people had gone home. I was at home when my colleague started chatting with me to tell me that he heard the list was out. I was excited and asked if anyone in our branch was promoted. He said he and our former Head of Operations &amp;nbsp;were the only ones he had heard about. I was doubly excited because these two were my friends and they deserved it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I could just imagine the anxiety in the minds of most of my colleagues as they wondered if they were promoted. I wondered if I was too, but decided not to bother my pretty head too much. My weekend was busy, one activity after the other, so there was no time for me to dwell on the promotion list. It was finally Monday morning, and off to work again. As soon as I entered my office, I noticed that almost everyone was sober or had a plastic forced smile on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Their eyes were all glued on their systems as if they were doing some serious work. A glance here and there, and I realized that everyone was going through the promotion list to know who got promoted and who didn't. I &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: yellow;"&gt;jejeli&lt;/span&gt; went to an empty cubicle to finish up my make-up. While doing that, I noticed that the TV was not yet on. That was strange to me because I have a colleague that is a CNN addict and he would always ensure that the TV is switched on as soon as he gets to the office. He is really passionate about politics. A quick glance towards his seat to know if he had gotten to the office and I noticed that he too like the others was solemnly going through the promotion list. I chuckled to myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wasn't promoted, even though I prayed and hoped I would be, but hey, life is still beautiful. I feel kind of sad about it especially because I have been in the same grade for three years now, so I understand how some of my colleagues feel. Over the next few days, I heard of how some of my colleagues in their anger blamed the MD for not promoting more people, and also swore at them for discarding half of the names on the promotion list. Many people seem to have lost the passion to do their work and comments like "&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: yellow;"&gt;abeg&lt;/span&gt;, i wasn't promoted, so don't stress me too much with this work" was made every now and then.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel their anger and pain, and like I told some of my friends, this is one of those wake up calls. People should better dust their CV's, rearrange them and start applying for other jobs (that is if they have not been doing that already). I rejoice with all those that were promoted and I believe that better things are on the way for me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/50444862352948690-5019518065075192213?l=naijabankgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://naijabankgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/5019518065075192213/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://naijabankgirl.blogspot.com/2011/08/i-wasnt-promoted.html#comment-form' title='11 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/50444862352948690/posts/default/5019518065075192213'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/50444862352948690/posts/default/5019518065075192213'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://naijabankgirl.blogspot.com/2011/08/i-wasnt-promoted.html' title='I WASN&apos;T PROMOTED'/><author><name>Che</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12087573646392976170</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-JT6F9_ZCN8Y/TxHgrK4rJEI/AAAAAAAAAE4/OqNxMovz6PQ/s220/sexy%2Bshoes1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>11</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-50444862352948690.post-7886324429252900665</id><published>2011-08-26T23:24:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2011-08-26T23:24:17.336+01:00</updated><title type='text'>THE RITUAL OF WHAT TO WEAR</title><content type='html'>I am constantly in a dilemma on what to wear to work. Well, except on Mondays and Fridays which the bank has helped me sort out by way of a dress code. On Mondays, its either navy blue or black suit on white and on Fridays, we wear the bank's tee shirt on a pair of jeans. It should be easy to figure out what to wear in the remaining three days right, WRONG.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I come home from work and open my wardrobe widely while I sort out other things. The idea is that once in a while, when I glance towards that direction, I will get an inspiration on what to wear. Most times however, nothing comes to mind, so when I start feeling sleepy, I go and stand in front of my clothes chanting: "What to wear", "What to wear" like a crazy girl. My siblings just look at me, shake their heads and laugh. After trying on different combinations, I finally decide on what to wear and by this time, I'm half asleep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I envy people that can wear practically anything to work. Banks that allow their staff to wear any&amp;nbsp;colors&amp;nbsp;and styles are cool too. My bank &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: yellow;"&gt;dey&lt;/span&gt; try &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: yellow;"&gt;sha&lt;/span&gt;, but it still feels so restricted. :-(. Maybe it's because I'm tired of recycling the clothes I can wear and wish I could just wear anything as long as it looks formal. I have heard of some banks that have dress codes for their staff for each day. Mondays- black and white, Tuesdays- blue and white, Wednesdays- black and white, Thursdays- blue and white.&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: yellow;"&gt; Abeggiiii, na&lt;/span&gt; primary school &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: yellow;"&gt;dem dey?&lt;/span&gt; Even primary schools &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: yellow;"&gt;sef&lt;/span&gt; have colorful school uniforms. I also hear of banks that don't allow their female staff to wear peep-toe shoes, only fully covered work shoes. &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: yellow;"&gt;Na wa o.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why not allow us to express our creativity in our clothes and&amp;nbsp;footwear&amp;nbsp;as long as they are formal, decent and we represent the bank well.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/50444862352948690-7886324429252900665?l=naijabankgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://naijabankgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/7886324429252900665/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://naijabankgirl.blogspot.com/2011/08/ritual-of-what-to-wear.html#comment-form' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/50444862352948690/posts/default/7886324429252900665'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/50444862352948690/posts/default/7886324429252900665'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://naijabankgirl.blogspot.com/2011/08/ritual-of-what-to-wear.html' title='THE RITUAL OF WHAT TO WEAR'/><author><name>Che</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12087573646392976170</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-JT6F9_ZCN8Y/TxHgrK4rJEI/AAAAAAAAAE4/OqNxMovz6PQ/s220/sexy%2Bshoes1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-50444862352948690.post-4199087982615496523</id><published>2011-08-25T21:30:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2011-08-25T21:30:11.694+01:00</updated><title type='text'>It All Belongs To You - Damita Haddon</title><content type='html'>&lt;iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="344" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/HHjO89tqG2I?fs=1" width="425"&gt;&lt;/iframe&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I heard a song at work yesterday and it blew my mind. It has since been on repeat on my phone and my work system. The song reminded me that everything belongs to God and I should just let Him have it. My will, emotions, the stress, thoughts, life, ALL belongs to God. Everything Lord, I surrender it over to you. I decided to share it on my blog to bless someone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/50444862352948690-4199087982615496523?l=naijabankgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://naijabankgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/4199087982615496523/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://naijabankgirl.blogspot.com/2011/08/it-all-belongs-to-you-damita-haddon.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/50444862352948690/posts/default/4199087982615496523'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/50444862352948690/posts/default/4199087982615496523'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://naijabankgirl.blogspot.com/2011/08/it-all-belongs-to-you-damita-haddon.html' title='It All Belongs To You - Damita Haddon'/><author><name>Che</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12087573646392976170</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-JT6F9_ZCN8Y/TxHgrK4rJEI/AAAAAAAAAE4/OqNxMovz6PQ/s220/sexy%2Bshoes1.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://img.youtube.com/vi/HHjO89tqG2I/default.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-50444862352948690.post-811102473724964126</id><published>2011-08-20T21:15:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2011-08-20T21:15:06.987+01:00</updated><title type='text'>DOING THINGS RIGHT</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: yellow;"&gt;Okadas&lt;/span&gt; constitute part of my transportation to and from work, and I have learnt to be wise in choosing the ones I enter. I prefer mature looking bike men that I feel have a sense of responsibility and drive carefully. One&amp;nbsp;Monday&amp;nbsp;morning, I was rushing off to work because I overslept; no thanks to the chilly weather. It was difficult to see a bike going towards my route, so you can imagine how glad I was when I eventually got one and it was also driven by an elderly man.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We took off and about 10 mins later, we were flagged down by some policemen. Our offence: "Passenger not wearing a helmet'. What annoyed me was that I had asked the &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: yellow;"&gt;okada &lt;/span&gt;driver to give me the helmet to wear as soon as I boarded his bike. He refused to answer me. It's not as if I enjoy wearing the helmet but I just didn't want to be delayed unnecessarily by policemen. The following conversation ensued between the policemen and the &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: yellow;"&gt;okada&lt;/span&gt;&amp;nbsp;driver:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Policeman&lt;/b&gt;: &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: yellow;"&gt;Baba&lt;/span&gt;, why is your passenger not wearing helmet?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Baba&lt;/b&gt;: My brother &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: yellow;"&gt;dey&lt;/span&gt; work with &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: yellow;"&gt;una&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Policeman&lt;/b&gt;: &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: yellow;"&gt;Ehnnnnn, wetin &lt;/span&gt;you talk? So because your brother &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: yellow;"&gt;dey &lt;/span&gt;work with us, you think say you go just disobey law like that. Even if your brother &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: yellow;"&gt;na&lt;/span&gt; Goodluck &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: yellow;"&gt;sef. mschewwww. Oya &lt;/span&gt;clear well and park your &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: yellow;"&gt;okada&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: yellow;"&gt;Chai&lt;/span&gt;, I&amp;nbsp;didn't&amp;nbsp;believe the &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: yellow;"&gt;okada &lt;/span&gt;man was silly enough to say that. Didn't he&amp;nbsp;realize&amp;nbsp;that if he had&amp;nbsp;apologized&amp;nbsp;to the policemen (because he was obviously wrong) and probably greased their palms with some change (I'm not in support of bribery o), they would have let him go.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All this while, I was still sitting on the &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: yellow;"&gt;okada &lt;/span&gt;and looking at my wristwatch ticking away. When he was told to "clear well and park", I didn't need anyone to tell me to find my way. Thankfully, I got another &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: yellow;"&gt;okada &lt;/span&gt;close by and continued my trip to the office. And i still made it to work on time. The scene that just played out got me thinking though: Why do Nigerians like doing the wrong things? Instances of doing the wrong things include:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pedestrians crossing the express right under the pedestrian bridge. I will never understand this. If I ever have to cross an express, I look out for any pedestrian bridge close by, because I don't like the idea of running across the road and wondering how close a car or &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: yellow;"&gt;okada&lt;/span&gt; is. I once saw a mother with her child strapped on her back and carrying a bag of goodies, running as fast as she could under &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: yellow;"&gt;Cele&lt;/span&gt; pedestrian bridge. I wondered to myself, what if one of those fast and furious bus drivers knocks her down? Sympathizers will gather and blame the driver. Forgetting that the woman should have just used the bridge right overhead.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not obeying traffic lights: I know most of the time, we are in a hurry to get to our destinations, especially in Lagos. But traffic lights were put in place to ensure order on the roads and also prevent accidents. Yet, some of us will look around and if there are no &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: yellow;"&gt;LASTMA&lt;/span&gt; officials where traffic lights are, we zoom past.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not wearing helmets while on bikes: I am sometimes guilty of this. I agree that most of us will not want to wear the helmets because it is dirty and sometimes wet; but there is a law in place and it is for our own good that we obey it. We could mimic some people and put a handkerchief on our head before wearing the helmet, as long as we wear it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It pays to do things right. It saves us from unnecessary &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: yellow;"&gt;wahala&lt;/span&gt;.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/50444862352948690-811102473724964126?l=naijabankgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://naijabankgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/811102473724964126/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://naijabankgirl.blogspot.com/2011/08/doing-things-right.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/50444862352948690/posts/default/811102473724964126'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/50444862352948690/posts/default/811102473724964126'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://naijabankgirl.blogspot.com/2011/08/doing-things-right.html' title='DOING THINGS RIGHT'/><author><name>Che</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12087573646392976170</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-JT6F9_ZCN8Y/TxHgrK4rJEI/AAAAAAAAAE4/OqNxMovz6PQ/s220/sexy%2Bshoes1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-50444862352948690.post-7636021330270977992</id><published>2011-08-19T22:10:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2011-08-19T22:10:14.250+01:00</updated><title type='text'>CLOSE CALL</title><content type='html'>I work in a cash center in &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: lime;"&gt;Kirikiri&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; and because of the terrible traffic along my route, I prefer to follow my dispatch man on his bike&amp;nbsp;back to my main branch in &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: lime;"&gt;Apapa&lt;/span&gt;. One sunny day, we took off as&amp;nbsp;usual, both of us wearing our huge sunglasses. There I was, enjoying the scenery and taking in the fumes from the tankers and trailers, when a bike&amp;nbsp;carrying a fine guy passed us. We were stuck in traffic for a while, but it eventually eased up a little and bikes&amp;nbsp;could move on. The bike&amp;nbsp;with the fine guy moved on and we followed. Suddenly, a bus driver on our right side opened his driver's door without looking in the mirror and hit the bike carrying the fine guy down right in front of a trailer loaded with two containers. Thank God for everyone that screamed. Thank God the trailer had a functional brake. Thank God for the driver of the trailer that was level headed and sharp. He stepped on the brake and stopped immediately.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: lime;"&gt;okada&lt;/span&gt; man and fine guy got up immediately and moved to the sidewalk. The fine guy jumped the crossing that demarcates both lanes of the road, quickly crossed to the other side of the road and continued walking as if nothing had&amp;nbsp;happened. It was a bit comical to me, but I am sure the guy was still in shock and&amp;nbsp;couldn't&amp;nbsp;believe what he just went through. God must have been on the lookout for him that day. My dispatch guy and I continued our journey whilst giving thanks to God for the near fatal accident that was averted. I don't know what happened to the bus driver. He must have received a lot of abuses from people around, but hopefully no beating. I wondered to myself what he opened his door to do at that instance. Did he want to urinate in the broad daylight in the middle of the road? Did he want to see how far the traffic was and maybe develop wings for his bus? Whatever his reason was, that was a wrong move he made. It could have been me knocked down right in front of that trailer, because I was directly behind the fine guy. Thank God for His mercies.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/50444862352948690-7636021330270977992?l=naijabankgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://naijabankgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/7636021330270977992/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://naijabankgirl.blogspot.com/2011/08/close-call.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/50444862352948690/posts/default/7636021330270977992'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/50444862352948690/posts/default/7636021330270977992'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://naijabankgirl.blogspot.com/2011/08/close-call.html' title='CLOSE CALL'/><author><name>Che</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12087573646392976170</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-JT6F9_ZCN8Y/TxHgrK4rJEI/AAAAAAAAAE4/OqNxMovz6PQ/s220/sexy%2Bshoes1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-50444862352948690.post-1741516218843583149</id><published>2011-08-18T21:32:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2011-08-18T21:32:21.013+01:00</updated><title type='text'>SLEEP AND I (BEST OF FRIENDS)</title><content type='html'>I have always hated mornings for as long as I can remember. No, let me rephrase it, mornings when i have to wake up early are such a drag for me. At night, I put a kettle of water on the cooker before going to bed. When my alarm goes off in the morning, I grudgingly get out of bed, turn on the nob of the cooker and quickly crawl back into bed for a few extra minutes of sleep. It's a wonder that I make it to the office on time (well most of the time). I stay in Surulere and work in Apapa and I always give thanks to God that I&amp;nbsp;don't&amp;nbsp;work on the Island. Friends that work there say, after a while, you will get used to waking up very early to beat the traffic. Yeah, yeah, I hear you. I still&amp;nbsp;haven't&amp;nbsp;even gotten used to waking up and leaving for work at 7am.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have joked about my wedding being in the evening so I can enjoy my morning sleep and also because I do not like the sun. I have often wondered how I'm going to cope when I get married and start having kids. Guess I will cross that bridge when I get there and maybe then, I will get used to it by force, by fire, because I will have more responsibilities.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hear people say that they have gotten so used to waking up early even on weekends, and they no longer need their alarms. I hail such people o. I watched a commercial once on Dstv about a singing alarm on wheels. When it goes off, it rolls to an obscure part of your room while still singing. You will be forced to wake up and search for it before you can turn it off. Hmmmm, maybe this is the kind of alarm clock I need, that is if I don't smash it against the wall one day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I get so excited as Fridays approach. When I say TGIF, it's not because I have any wonderful things to do over the weekend. Nope, no weddings or outings. I'm just super excited that I get to sleep in for as late as I want to and without an alarm going off and disrupting my lovely sleep.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/50444862352948690-1741516218843583149?l=naijabankgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://naijabankgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/1741516218843583149/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://naijabankgirl.blogspot.com/2011/08/sleep-and-i-best-of-friends.html#comment-form' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/50444862352948690/posts/default/1741516218843583149'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/50444862352948690/posts/default/1741516218843583149'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://naijabankgirl.blogspot.com/2011/08/sleep-and-i-best-of-friends.html' title='SLEEP AND I (BEST OF FRIENDS)'/><author><name>Che</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12087573646392976170</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-JT6F9_ZCN8Y/TxHgrK4rJEI/AAAAAAAAAE4/OqNxMovz6PQ/s220/sexy%2Bshoes1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-50444862352948690.post-6294451912986753836</id><published>2011-08-16T21:52:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2011-08-16T21:52:57.221+01:00</updated><title type='text'>TRIBUTE TO MY MUM</title><content type='html'>I dedicate this blog to my mum. She was one of the people I used to gist about my escapades at work. I&amp;nbsp;couldn't&amp;nbsp;wait to get home each day to tell her about any major events that&amp;nbsp;occurred&amp;nbsp;at work. She would say things like &lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: yellow;"&gt;"Chukwu agaghi ekwe ka ihe obuna mey gi"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt; (God will not let any evil befall you).&lt;br /&gt;Mum, exactly today, two years ago, you went to be with the Lord because you needed to rest. We all miss your extra large heart and super woman strength, but it warms my heart to know you are in a better place. I know you are grooving and smiling down on us as we make progress in life. I celebrate today and always, the beautiful life you lived.&lt;br /&gt;Love you loads Mum. Muaaahhhhhhhh.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/50444862352948690-6294451912986753836?l=naijabankgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://naijabankgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/6294451912986753836/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://naijabankgirl.blogspot.com/2011/08/tribute-to-my-mum.html#comment-form' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/50444862352948690/posts/default/6294451912986753836'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/50444862352948690/posts/default/6294451912986753836'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://naijabankgirl.blogspot.com/2011/08/tribute-to-my-mum.html' title='TRIBUTE TO MY MUM'/><author><name>Che</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12087573646392976170</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-JT6F9_ZCN8Y/TxHgrK4rJEI/AAAAAAAAAE4/OqNxMovz6PQ/s220/sexy%2Bshoes1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry></feed>
