IMOW - The Ball is in Your Court

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•	If single women in the United States earned as much as men in comparable jobs, their poverty rates would be reduced from 6.3 percent to 1 percent.

•	In one Bangladesh village, almost all of the girls in households taking micro-loans from the Grameen bank had had some schooling compared to 60 per cent of girls in the comparison group. 81 per cent of Grameen boys went to school compared to 54 per cent in non-Grameen households.

The Ball is in Your Court
Olubunmi Obasa Julius-Adeoye

Nigeria

GALLERY

CONVERSATION

Ronke wanted to leave the Garden City. Her dream of working for the inter-city money transfer company became a mirage when it became clear to her that her appointment letter would only be signed in a hotel room. “Miss Elaturoti, the ball is in your court. Let me play into your net and the job is yours,” Mr. Pepple, Ronke’s boss had said. “But sir you just said I am the best corps member you have ever had and that I increased your clientele since I joined the marketing department.” Ronke was almost in tears. “That’s the truth my dear but the game must be played according to the rules.” Ronke wondered what stupid rules those were and who had ever come up with them in the first place. “Baby we have been through this before. I have what you need and you have what I want. It’s a simple game of exchange. And the truth is once would not hurt you.” He touched her shoulder and Ronke moved angrily away. Mr. Pepple abandoned his courtly airs. “Now get out of my office and don’t think you will be getting a recommendation from me either. Thousands of girls out there would kill themselves to have the opportunity you are throwing away.” … It was her first assignment at the marketing department. Chief Okereafor was the chairman of Okereafor and Sons Limited, a big name in the clearing and forwarding business in the country. They transacted in the major ports and therefore had the need to move large sums of money on a daily basis. It was Ronke’s task to get them to do business with her company. On that day Ronke wore her best emerald green skirt suit. An appointment had been booked and so it was easy to get past all the bottle necks called protocols, straight into the Chief Executive’s office. It was a white and gold palatial office befitting a man of such status. The overweight fifty year-old C.E.O. looked up from the magazine he was reading. “Come right in and make yourself comfortable”. The chief gestured to the sofa on his right. That was when Ronke’s discomfort started. Why the sofa? Why can’t I sit on the visitors chair in front of his table? Well maybe the sofa is where he discusses business. Ronke decided to sit on the edge of the sofa that was as big as an eight-spring bed. Chief took the only file on his table and scanned through it. “You are from Guaranty Intercity Money Transfer”. Chief asked. “Yes sir.” Ronke attempted to stand in deference. Chief waved her down. “Sit down young lady. I know about your company. Mr Pepple and I used to be in the same club until I moved ahead. I know some people who have transacted business with you and their rating of your company says you are excellent. But you see money matters involve great risks and I need double, even triple assurance that my hard earned money will not disappear in transit”. With great discomfort because of his rotund stature he struggled out of his chair and moved towards the sofa, towards Ronke. Ronke would have run out of the room but for the thought that such a respectable elderly man would not conceive of doing anything to a twenty-three year-old girl young enough to be daughter. Then Chief Okereafor proved her wrong when he touched the lobe of her ear with the back of his right hand. “I love your earrings. They are gold aren’t they?” Ronke shifted away from him. “No sir. They are not what they seem. They are gold plated. Sir, if your friends have found us excellent that means you will do business with us? ” Ronke stammered. The Chief relaxed, placing his head on the back rest. “That depends on you, Nkem.” Said Chief. “Ibironke Elaturoti is the name sir”. Ronke declared. “I know my young angel, but to me you are Nkem. Nkem means mine, my own. The moment you entered, I knew our business would go beyond money transfer to your being transferred to be my queen”. Chief sat up and held her hands. It took all the self control Ronke could muster for her to remain on the seat. “Sir, I thought we are discussing business and not something else. I will be glad if you sign the agreement papers so that I can report back to the office in time for us to start business right away”. Ronke rose from the sofa having no space left to shift to. She quickly opened her file and brought out the papers which she promptly offered to the Chief. He waved her down. “There is no need to be in a hurry, Nkem. We have to play the game by the rules. You become my mistress and your boss will be happy with you and probably promote you and if you want, you can quit and start up your own company my dear”. At that point Chief rose to pull Ronke to himself. Ronke pulled back, with the file falling off. She did not bother to pack the scattered papers but literaly fled the office. In her office Ronke relayed everything that had happened. Mr. Pepple looked at her with disgust and almost bellowed at her. “You mean you made us lose a client that is worth hundreds of millions because he wants to sleep with you? When you insisted you wanted to join the marketing team why did I oblige you if not to use your beauty and fair skin to lure clients to us? You better go back and bring that business to us.” Ronke opened her mouth in disbelief and at the bluntness of Mr. Pepple. “If there is nothing more to discuss you had better go and catch up with Chief before he changes his mind.” … The following day, conservatively dressed in a grey skirt and blouse covering her ankle and arms, Ronke was in Chief’s office again and he made the same request. It was at that point that she said a silent prayer and decided to use one of the things she studied in a General Studies course she went through in her first year in the University. She was going to use a fallacy called argumentum ad Misericordiam: she was going to appeal to his emotions. She told him she had actually come to respect him as a father figure, that she admired his business acumen, and that should he should take to politics he would no doubt be an all time electorate favorite. “You could be my campaign manager, you know.” The Chief said. Ronke was not through yet; she told him about the need for him to do business with them: his business associates knowing that he had experts who dealt with his money transfer would further be assured of the security of their freighting transactions. She then threw in a bit about how important it was for her to prove to her parents that the money they spent on her education had not gone up in flames and then mentioned her need for the commission which would help to take care of her ailing father. Chief cut her short. “Save your lectures. If I need them I will enroll in evening classes and make you my teacher.” The chief smiled and Ronke’s heart beat slowed to almost normal. “I guess I will give you some of our money matters. Lagos will be okay for a start.” As she was about to express her gratitude the door opened without a knock. It was Nwakaego, Chiefs daughter. “Oops! I did not realize you had a visitor” “If you had not ignored the secretary you probably would have been told. Anyway come and give papa a big hug. How was London?” As Ego made to go and hug her father she glanced at Ronke and exclaimed. “Ronkus! What are you doing here? Dad don’t tell me you are….” “Ego this is strictly business.” Answered Chief with a knowing grin. “I can’t believe my eyes. Is this really you?” Ronke asked in utter surprise and rose to embrace Ego. The two ladies gave each other a bear-tight hug. “Daddy, remember the girl I told you took the rap for me in an examination malpractice case that would have gotten me rusticated from school?” … “You cannot tell me you got all those clients because you did one good deed for Chiefs daughter. I wonder what it was that you did that would make Chief give us charge of all his money transfer business.” “I cannot believe that instead of making me a regular staff based on the turnover I have given this company sir, you want me to sleep with you first and then you believe I must be sleeping with all our clients. I must be a super whore then!” Ronke left Mr. Pepple’s office and the next time she applied again to be made a permanent staff was when the boss told her she must allow him to play the ball into her net. Ronke put her hands underneath the sweater she was wearing. The luxurious bus was getting too cold for comfort and she could not turn off the air condition because of passenger eight who had started snoring away again. Ronke wished she could sleep but her bitterness kept her awake. She made up her mind not to remember Port Harcourt and Mr. Pepple. Ronke soon slept and only woke up when it was 6.00am and was pressed to ease herself. Hooting of vehicles and the cacophony of shouts of bus conductors juxtaposed and she was surprised to see that they were almost in Lagos. She was back to reality. She no longer had a job but she had enough in her bank account to set up a business where she would be the Chief Executive Officer and no one would talk to her about balls and nets.

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COMMENTS ABOUT THIS STORY

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LJohnson (United States)
This is a perfect example of how male privilege and power work in society today. Men use their positions of authority to dominate and control women. This often keeps women in poverty and less than desirable circumstances. Women are seen as objects; rather than the human beings they are.

MarieFitz (United States)
Wow. This shows how strong the male privilege is. After facing harassment from a client only to have that harassment approved by her male boss. It is very disturbing that the Chief who had a daughter the same age would treat women like they where objects for his pleasure. Dose he really want his own daughter treated that way?

Caylah
This story was very upsetting! I can't believe that she went through all of that sexual harrassment just to be successful in the workforce. It is sickening to think about that. I am glad she didn't lower herself down to achieve a higher work status but she stuck up for herself and sometimes that can be very hard.

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