On a crisp Monday I was in my office scribbling through the news paper which covered stories of my recent visit at the Hoffers Food when I overheard a noisy bickering at the reception. I narrowed my eyes at the CCTV and I saw a woman, certainly in her thirties, ranting at a security, pacing up and down the reception with her hands on the waist as one unsatisfied with quarrel.
My security was restricting her from making headway into my office. At the time the woman had started yelling at the tops of her lungs. And not only was this eerie but it occurred to me that she was just not familiar let alone a family. When I drifted to my door, and gummed my ears on it, she was still ranting at the tops of her lungs.
“No, you must let me see the world richest man! Why are you so cruel, uh? I came with my blind son and the fact he is blind doesn’t mean we are beggars!” she gasped to pick on a fresher louder tone, “I am a notable person. I just want to meet with Mike Don because it is pertinent to my business you…” she rolled her eyes.
One of my security interposed her with a single clap of hands, “Go away you beggar! Your son is blind! See the way you are dressed! We don’t tolerate that here! This is the Saint Don Group,” he snarled at the woman and pointed at the platinum signboard on the wall, “This is not a begging center or home for the poor! Take your blind son and varnish out of my sight, now and don’t hesitate!” He stamped his feet on the floor to drive on his command.
Promptly the woman went down on her knees , molded her arms and let those tears trickle down her cheeks now, “Please security . I know you don’t know me. I am Charity Campbell. You won’t believe it if I should tell you I own a restaurant…” Her eyes flushed with tears as she wailed.
“Go to hell, you poor church rat!” my security slammed at the woman and she trembled and broke down in tears even the more.
Right behind my door, my heart thudded for this poor woman as though I had any emotional entanglement with her. My gaze struck on my picture on the wall, the very one which I took when I was a broke ass delivery boy at Morgan Group. Staring at that picture now replayed memories of my days of poverty.
That woman out there pleading made me reminisce on my poverty; she reminded me how I begged to be employed; how I pled for money ; for salary advance ; how I was humiliated and underrated by my in-laws.
The woman pled on, “Please I beg of you. I may look poor to you but to the world richest man I am not poor. I believe if I see him and tell him my predicament he will be of help to me, please…”
“You poverty-stricken biddy!” my security cursed, “We don’t entertain poverty here. Go to the road side and beg!”
My security yelled at her and those last words hit me in the chest so much that I wept effortlessly and sniffed repeatedly.
Those were the words that Sarah Canon told me, you know. But why would my security use such words on that woman? I thought within me and writhed in pan as I watched on my CCCTV how my security was manhandling the woman by dragging her away.
“What arrant nonsense!” I beamed and pranced out to meet them. “What the hell is wrong with you? Let her be, security!” I upbraided and rolled my eyes at the security who bowed promptly.
He was already fidgety now.“Greetings the world richest man!” he greeted and remained bowed as he enunciated yet further, “This poverty-stricken …”
I interposed him; not really going to let him use such offensive words on her, “Are you stupid? Are you out of your senses? Have you gone ninny?” my jaw sagged as I rolled my eyes at this security. “Did I employ you to humiliate the poor?” I glared.
“I had that wrong! Apologies, boss! Ever so sorry!” the security apologized and genuflected in absolute apology.
I could see the haze of easiness and restive mood parade the face of the woman, “What is the problem? And if you must convey your message use official words you dope. Now go ahead. I am all ears,” I commanded.
“Apologies. I only thought she was poor, since she came with a blind boy. She has been hell-bent on seeing you despite being gentle…” he lied softly.
“You dope brat!” I snapped at him and my arms and lips trembled at once as I surged closer, “Have you forgotten I have a CCTV in my office. I saw everything. You never gave her a listening ear. You blew hot at her right from the moment she introduced herself, even you never allowed her to introduce herself!” I barked as my voice echoed across the entire office.
Zion just walked in and dragged a huge frown once he met the scene.
I barked on, “I designated you as one of my security doesn’t mean you should maltreat the poor whenever they come around. Everyone is equal in the sight of God!” my eyeballs widened at the security who still remained bowed . I turned my gaze on the woman and queried coldly, “What is your name and what is the problem, dear?” I asked at a breath as I dared to catch my breath.
“Thank you very the world richest man. You are indeed the god of wealth for the poor. Without you low-life people like us would have gone extinct.” The woman had the intention to speak yet further but her wailing wouldn’t let her keep a steady pace. She broke down in tears and masked her teary face.
I pranced to her side, patted her on the shoulders and nursed her, “Take a deep breath, woman. Mike Don is here to listen to your predicament. Whatever your problem may be, you can be rest assured that it is settled. I am the world richest man. I have the solutions to your predicament” I intoned and once I saw there was no stopping her, I beckoned on her, “Do you mind joining me in my office?” she sobbed, took her blind son by the arm and joined my lead as we walked into my office.
Zion gazed upon the erring security, “Have you ever slept in the church to pray to God? You had better do it because I know you don’t want to risk losing this wonderful job for maltreating the poor. You should know Mike Don distastes that,” he hissed and walked away…