One month later, Temi asked for another meeting.
This time, she didn't carry printed pages.
“I want to talk about my scope and my salary.”
Mr. Biodun nodded. “Okay.”
Temi explained the work she was doing, the accounts she was supporting and the clients who had started requesting her directly.
When she finished, Mr. Biodun leaned forward.
“I hear you.”
Temi waited.
“We're in a growth phase. Everybody is stretching.”
There was that word again.
“You're getting exposure here that you wouldn't necessarily get in a larger agency.”
“I understand.”
“And early in your career, it's important not to focus only on the immediate financial—”
“I'm not asking for a raise.”
He stopped.
Temi kept her voice calm.
“I'm asking for the salary in my offer letter.”
Silence.
“85k.”
“I know.”
“The company has won three accounts since I joined. Two came from pitches I worked on.”
“And your contribution is recognised.”
“Then please correct my salary.”
Mr. Biodun looked at her for a moment.
“Let me see what I can do before the end of the month.”
“Okay.”
Temi left.
The strange thing was that she no longer believed him.
A few weeks later, her alarm went off at 5:45 a.m.
Temi sat on the edge of her bed.
Her clothes were on the chair. Her laptop bag was beside the door.
All she needed to do was stand.
At 6:25, she was still sitting there.
Forty minutes.
She wasn't crying.
She wasn't sick.
She simply couldn't make herself move.
At 6:27, Temi stood because she told her legs to stand.
Nothing more.
That evening, she called Adanna from the danfo.
“I need to tell you something.”
“Talk.”
Temi told her about the morning.
Adanna went quiet.
“Has that happened before?”
“Not like this.”
“And you still went?”
“I had work.”
“Temi.”
“What?”
“Do you want me to talk or listen?”
“Talk.”
Adanna sighed.
“I've been watching you get smaller.”
Temi frowned. “Smaller?”
“You're quieter. Even when you're gisting me about work, you edit yourself.”
“I'm just tired.”
“No. You're careful.”
That hurt more than Temi expected.
“There is less of you in the words,” Adanna said.
Temi looked out the window.
“I don tire.”
“I know.”
“But I need the money.”
“I know.”
“I can't just resign.”
“I didn't say you should.”
Temi closed her eyes.
“But you need a plan.”
For the first time, she said it aloud.
“Yes.”