Adulting They Call It! A Day In The Life Of An Adult...

📷 Hulst Wilson

It was a summer morning the smell of the fresh coffee brewing filled the air – the chill breeze and the scent of the clean-shaven glass. The shrieking clock slapped me back to reality, it was time to begin adulting. For so long I was living with my parents and feeding off them. The day has dawned for me to journey into a land of no hope – job hunting! It had become known that jobs were for the privileged and the well-connected fellas. But this didn’t mess my mantra and optimism. What a shame everyone was caught up in the web of corruption and nepotism.

Tick tock… The clock sang a song of hope. I had clothes bought specially for this day rather for the last time it came from my parents’ pension. I cleared my mind and the never-dying song of unemployment from my classmates and some from streams ahead. In my head, 8 o’clock was a date, a chance to be what I always dreamt of. I hurriedly bathed, late was never part of my vocabulary. The words of my mentor vividly ringed and were still fresh in my HEAD, “Being on time is the greatest gift you can offer, it shows respect and honor.”

“Ooh, Breakfast!” I remembered. I didn’t want my tummy to growl in front of potential employers, that was a big NO. The thought slowly took me down the memory lane.

“Life is a roller coaster indeed”, I told myself

 At the youth convention a year ago during the 10 days fasting. My tummy shamelessly stripped me naked. What a grueling humiliation it was. Unfortunately, my tummy couldn’t behave itself and I wouldn’t want it to repeat its rogue act. Would I? I doubt that with every vein in my body.

“Aren’t you going to be late, remember kombis are hard to catch these days?” Mother snapped me out of my thoughts in a squeaky voice.

 “I know Mom, I’m about to leave and would you please say a word of prayer”, I replied

From the voice, I sensed signs of worry and excitement – a mixed ball of emotions. Mother reached out for a hug and whispered words of encouragement.  I made my way to catch a taxi. Time flies when one is looking forward to something. 

There were no kombis on the horizon. The summer scorching sun was already causing a sensation of unbearable heat. Luckily there was a big mango tree which sheltered me in its shade. Few minutes in, I was already tapping my feet and moving my hands vigorously. I always do that when I was stressed, deep in my thoughts. What if I didn’t catch a kombi? Was I going to be late? Anxiety kicked in...

Finally, a kombi crept into the dusty horizon. “Town, town one person left!” a young scruffy man shouted with half of his body out of the moving kombi. I waved my hand to show my eagerness to hop in, only to be greeted with a 2 dollars bus fare.

These bloody vultures would raise their rates as they please. But who would blame them, officers were sucking them dry at every checkpoint. The cycle somehow ended up affecting mere citizens. What a shame! I sat quietly to regain composure and contemplate on which jargon to use to make a first impression.

Suddenly, the taxi hit a pole hole. A phenomenon that was now normal and some drives had devised tactics to maneuver around them.

 “Ooh bloody hell, what the heck they are busy adding more roadblocks in this sinking trenches”, an old grumpy man shouted.

 The old man roar sparked into a raging fire, the people in the taxi began to throw words back and forth. Words filled with disgust, insults, regrets and no hope whatsoever for the economy. I plugged in my earphones to focus, I didn’t want to forget lines I rehearsed. This was thee opportunity to an independent life, out of my parents’ garage – a gold bridge to my dreams.

“You are here for the interview? Please make way to conference room number 4, third door to your right.” The guard said in a shrewd voice.

I paced frantically, this was it – the green light I have been hoping for. Unfortunately, the company had already picked their candidate the interview was only to follow protocol. Those with a “little compensation” they called it had a chance. For one to get a job, some dirty work needed to be done. Cash or kind was the candidate’s first question in the interview. By then my eyes were about to tear and filled rage. 

The realization slapped me back to reality and the greedy interviewers were my welcome gift to adulting wrapped in evil laughs.  Adulting, they call it!