By Wednesday, Temi’s job description had become a suggestion.
She wrote blog posts.
Managed social media pages.
Prepared pitch research.
Edited proposals.
Reviewed competitor pricing.
Then, just before lunch, another email entered.
From: Sade
Can you please review the junior designer’s captions before EOD?
Temi stared at it.
She opened the job description saved on her laptop.
Then looked at the email again.
Okay.
Maybe this was what Mr. Biodun meant by exposure.
She got up and walked to Kunle’s desk.
“Please, I want to ask you something.”
Kunle kept his eyes on his screen.
“Ask.”
“Is this normal?”
“What?”
Temi turned her laptop towards him.
“All this.”
Kunle looked at the email.
Then at her.
“What exactly is the problem?”
“I’m doing content, research, proposals, competitor analysis. Now I’m reviewing somebody else’s captions.”
“Yes.”
“Yes?”
“Yes.”
Temi frowned.
“Is that my job?”
Kunle leaned back in his chair.
“You’ve been here three days.”
“I know.”
“Give it one week.”
Temi stared at him.
“That sounds like a threat.”
Kunle laughed.
“It’s not a threat.”
“So what is it?”
“Experience.”
Temi narrowed her eyes.
“You sound like Biodun.”
Kunle laughed properly this time.
“Abeg, don’t insult me.”
Temi laughed too.
“I’m serious.”
“I know.”
“So?”
“So do the captions.”
“That’s your advice?”
“Yes.”
“Very helpful. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
She started walking away.
“Temi.”
She turned.
Kunle pointed towards her desk.
“Your phone.”
It was ringing.
Temi hurried back.
Mr. Biodun.
Calling from his office.
She looked towards the glass door.
He was sitting less than fifteen metres away.
Why is this man calling me?
She answered.
“Hello, sir.”
“Temi, can you come in for a minute?”
“Okay.”
She ended the call.
Kunle was watching her.
Temi shook her head.
“Don’t.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You were about to.”
She entered Mr. Biodun’s office.
“How are you settling in?” he asked.
“Fine.”
“Workload okay?”
Temi hesitated.
“It’s busy.”
“Good busy?”
She smiled.
“I’m still deciding.”
Mr. Biodun laughed.
“I like that.”
He leaned back in his chair.
“You’re a fast learner. I’ve noticed that already.”
“Thank you.”
“That’s why I want you to take advantage of being here. Agency gives you exposure. If you were in a bigger organisation, they might put you in one corner doing one thing every day.”
Temi nodded.
“Here, you’ll stretch.”
There was that word again.
“You’ll touch different accounts. Strategy. Content. Client management. Maybe even some business development.”
Business development?
Temi smiled anyway.
“At this stage of your career, that kind of exposure is important. Later, you’ll thank yourself for it.”
“Okay.”
“Good. You’re doing well.”
Temi left the office feeling slightly better.
Maybe she had been overthinking it.
She was new.
Of course there would be a lot to learn.
At the printer, Sade was waiting for a document.
The machine made its usual terrible noise.
Temi stopped beside her.
Sade looked at her.
“Biodun give you motivational speech?”
Temi blinked.
“What?”
Sade collected the first sheet from the printer.
“The stretch speech.”
Temi stared at her.
“How did you know?”
Sade smiled.
“The stretch never stops stretching.”
She collected the rest of her papers and walked away.
Temi watched her go.
Then looked across the office at Kunle.
He had clearly heard.
He was trying not to laugh.
Temi returned to her desk.
“Why does everybody here talk like they know something I don’t know?”
Kunle looked over his monitor.
“Because you’re new.”
“Very comforting.”
“No wahala. You’ll understand.”
“I don’t want to understand.”
“You will.”
By Thursday evening, Temi had forgotten about the conversation.
Friday was busy.
Then Saturday came.
Then Sunday.
By 10:30 p.m., Temi was already in bed.
Her laptop was closed.
Her alarm was set.
She had work in the morning.
At 11:23 p.m., her phone lit up.
Mr. Biodun — Voice Note
Temi stared at the notification.
At this time?
She pressed play.
“Temi, sorry for the late message. I just had an idea for the Adeleke campaign. I think we need to change the direction slightly. Let me know what you think…”
The voice note continued.
One minute.
Two.
Three.
Temi checked the duration.
4:16.
Omo.
She listened to the rest.
When it ended, she placed her phone on the bed.
She could reply in the morning.
Nobody had said she had to work now.
It was Sunday.
She had work in less than eight hours.
Temi turned off the screen.
Five minutes later, she turned it back on.
What if he needs it before morning?
She opened WhatsApp again.
No additional message.
She could sleep.
She knew that.
But another thought came.
What if he thinks I’m not serious?
Temi stared at the ceiling.
Then sighed.
“God.”
She got out of bed.
At 11:41 p.m., her laptop came on.
One quick response became notes.
The notes became a framework.
At 1:17 a.m., Temi finally sent it.
Good evening sir. Please see my thoughts attached.
She closed the laptop and went back to bed.
At 7:04 a.m., her phone buzzed.
Perfect. Exactly what I needed.
Temi smiled.
Maybe this was what Mr. Biodun meant.
Exposure.
Responsibility.
Trust.
At ten that morning, he presented the framework to the client.
Temi wasn’t in the meeting.
She didn’t even know the meeting had started.
After lunch, Sade stopped beside her desk.
“Good framework on Adeleke.”
Temi looked up.
“How did you know?”
“I was in the call.”
Temi paused.
“Biodun presented it?”
“Yes.”
“Did he say I wrote it?”
Sade looked at her.
She didn’t answer.
She didn’t need to.
Temi turned slowly towards her laptop.
On the first page of her notebook, three words were still written in neat handwriting.
Opportunity.
Stretch.
Learn.
For the first time, Temi wondered what exactly she was supposed to be learning.