“I can make your career soar,” he said, his breath warm and heavy as he leaned across my desk. “But you have to know how to play the game.”
I had only been at the company for six months. A fresh graduate, desperate for stability, and the first in my family to get a job in a big firm in Lagos. I thought I had found my dream place. The office was beautiful, my colleagues were nice, and for an entry level role, the salary was pretty good too.
But! There just has to be a but.
Mr. Tunde, my boss, started paying me the wrong kind of attention. It began with comments about my clothes. “You look beautiful today,” he’d say, smiling just a bit too long. Then came the late-night messages. At first it was “urgent” work updates. Then it was, “What are you wearing?” and “Do you miss me?”
One evening, after a long meeting, he blocked the door of the conference room. “You know what I want,” he said. “If you give me your body, I’ll give you everything you’ve been working for. A raise, a promotion… even travel opportunities.”
I froze. It felt like the air had been sucked out of the room. “Sir, please,” I whispered. “I just want to do my job.”
He smiled. “Then do your job. But if you don’t give me what I want, don’t expect your contract to be renewed.”
For days, I couldn’t eat. I couldn’t sleep. My mother’s voice echoed in my head, “Don’t lose this job, we’re counting on you.” But I also thought about my younger sister. How could I tell her to chase her dreams if I let this man break me?
I went to HR. They listened, but their eyes said something else. “We’ll investigate,” they told me. The next day, Mr. Tunde called me into his office. “I know you went to HR,” he said, his voice low and dangerous. “You can either withdraw your complaint and keep your job, or you can lose everything.”
I felt like my whole world was caving in. I had to choose between my dignity and my livelihood. In the end, I resigned. I walked out of that building with tears streaming down my face, unemployed but unbroken.
It’s been six months since then. I’m freelancing now, scraping by, but at least I sleep with a clear conscience.
Sometimes I wonder if I did the right thing.