Chapter 7: Audit Crisis and Passing the Baton

But na Zainab from HR first chop am, not Sade.

Zainab own fast, sharp, like Lagos danfo.

Early morning, Marketing Director, face strong, call Musa, Zainab, and other managers enter oga office.

Everybody dey wonder—na who offend oga today?

Turns out one European client come do factory audit.

Oga dem come from Germany, dey carry big file, dey snap picture like police.

The labour dispatch company wey Musa bring, collabo with one technical school principal, scam students come work for factory as ‘interns.’

Dem even dey print ID card with Biro, as Amaka gist me later.

Each student even pay 200 naira for internship.

Na so poverty dey bite people for town. My heart pain me.

Normally, we dey pay third-party temps 40,000–50,000 per month. Who know say these people shameless reach, chop the wage, still collect money from the children.

Some of the children dey stay for uncompleted building, dey eat eba without soup. E pain me well.

During audit, auditor jam these students, suspect say na child labour. After interviews, dem find out some technical students never even reach 16—na pure child labour.

Na police dem suppose call that day. Auditor face change.

Worse, dem never pay them.

Children dey cry, dey complain to HR. Amaka dey console one girl for reception.

Auditor vex, stop the audit immediately. That night, European supply chain director send official email suspend all cooperation, demand Sales Director explain.

The email land, everybody dey shake. Oga no fit sleep, phone dey ring like fire alarm.

Child labour and wage wahala na big offence. ‘Suspension’ mean our own don finish.

If e enter government level, na EFCC or NAPTIP fit land for company.

Auditor even talk say he go report us to local government and to industry people for Europe.

European people no dey joke with pikin matter.

Sales Director vex, no fit talk.

E head dey hot, e just dey wipe sweat. Him tie don loose.

He tell Musa and Zainab, “My flight to Europe na tomorrow. You two go explain to them.”

He point finger, voice loud. E no get time for slow talk.

Musa jump, “Director Bolaji, na HR dey handle wage and employee check. I no know anything.”

He fold hand, shift seat. E no wan carry wahala.

Zainab shock. “Musa, that one no fair. We dey pay labour company every month, and I ask for interns’ ID info. I tell you to follow up, abi I no talk?”

She dey near tears. She dey struggle for air, voice dey break.

“Musa, na your work to verify employees. You no do am well, true or false?”

She dey tap table, dey wait answer.

Zainab wan argue, but oga, face like thunder, cut in, “Enough! Find way explain to client.”

He stand up, slam table. Everybody jump small.

Director Bolaji join, “Yes, solve am first.”

He adjust glasses, face dey serious.

In the end, oga call all management for meeting to brainstorm.

The meeting last reach midnight. Some people sleep for office.

After hours, we settle on this:

First, na third-party labour company chop the interns’ money.

Dem arrange report, write am like say na pure accident.

Second, the audit just happen as HR dey verify intern IDs—na transition period, pure coincidence.

Everybody dey form innocent, dey act like person wey police catch for Agege.

Director Bolaji curse as he go pack for client meeting.

He no even carry jacket. E just carry file and vex.

Oga glare at Zainab. “You still fit be HR Manager? If we lose this client, pack your load go.”

E point door, Zainab just dey shake head.

With that, he chase everybody.

We file out. Sade dey whisper, 'E don red.'

I see Zainab, face just dead—no be the same person wey dey ask Old Bayo for meeting how much chop money I dey collect.

Her mouth dey dry, she no fit look person for face.

As we dey waka go, she pull me aside.

She hold my hand, dey squeeze.

“This labour dispatch company na wahala. The one you dey use before better pass. I fit start dey find work. Na that Musa cause all this. I tell am this company no pure, he no gree.”

She dey nearly cry. I feel for her.

I no talk much—just console her small, then go back my office.

I tell her, 'No worry, better day go come.' But my mind no sure.

After all, I know say dem don call me Ifedike Half-a-Hundred-Million tire for back.

People fit forget my good, but dem no go forget that nickname quick.