There was one person in our office more dangerous than EFCC. More efficient than HR. More relentless than LASTMA officers. Her name was Aunty Agnes. She was the unofficial Bank Gist Queen. If something happened at 09:00, the entire branch would be aware by 09:05.

So when she cornered me at the canteen, first thing in the morning, I knew I was in trouble.
“Onome!” she beamed, clutching her big cup of Lipton tea.
“Good morning, ma,” I said cautiously.
She grinned. “So… when is the wedding?”
I frowned. “Whose wedding?”
She clicked her tongue. “Don’t pretend! We all saw you laughing with Adekunle yesterday. Eh-hen! Is he the lucky man?”
I nearly choked. “Mr Adekunle?”
She nodded excitedly. “Yes, my dear! We saw him hovering around your desk like mosquito. That means love is in the air!”
I groaned internally. “Aunty Agnes, I was rejecting his dinner invitation.”
She gasped. “Ehn? You rejected him? But why? He is a fine man, and he has a good salary!”
I sighed. “Because I don’t like him.”
She shook her head in disappointment. “Onome, you young girls of today don’t know what you are doing. You will reject a potential husband and be looking for love up and down!”
I had to escape, or else she would start a full motivational speech. I forced a smile. “Aunty Agnes, I have to attend to a customer.”
She clutched my arm. “No wahala, but I will be monitoring you. If he proposes, let me be the first to know!”
I ran to the banking hall to face my customers.

A well-dressed man in a fitted kaftan and expensive sunglasses strolled in and sat at my desk. “Good morning, sir,” I said.
He gave me a slow, lazy smile. “Good morning, beautiful.”
I mentally rolled my eyes. Here we go again.
“I have an account here already, but I want to open a new one,” he said.
“Alright, sir. Do you have your means of identification?” He reached into his pocket and pulled out his driver’s license. I took it and began entering his details into the system. Then I saw it.

Marital status: Married.

I glanced up. He was still smiling at me.
“You know,” he said, “I like the way you’re handling my request. Very… efficient.”
I hummed in response, typing faster.
“Are you single?”
I ignored him.
“Because,” he continued, leaning in, “I can tell you are the kind of woman who deserves to be treated like a queen.”
I slowly turned the screen toward him. “Sir, is this you?”
He looked. “Yes.”
I tapped the section labelled ‘Marital Status: Married.’ “Sir, I don’t think your wife will like this conversation.”
He sat up straight. “Ah! Who put that there?!”
I stifled a laugh. “You put it there, sir. When you got married.”
He suddenly became very interested in his wristwatch. “Ah… well… I mean, it’s just small marriage.”
I shook my head. “Sir, do you still want to open the account, or should I call Madam for you?”
He cleared his throat. “Ah! Just open it quickly.”

From the corner of my eye, I saw Oyinkan typing furiously on her phone. I knew she was texting me. Sure enough, my phone buzzed: “Small marriage? Lagos men are MAD.” I couldn’t stop laughing.

A few minutes later, I was reviewing a report when I heard someone clear his throat
loudly at my desk. I looked up to see a man in a faded polo shirt and jeans, holding a phone that appeared to have seen better days.
“Good morning, sir,” I said.
He gave me a small, embarrassed smile. “Good morning, my sister. I need your help.”
I sighed. “What’s the issue, sir?”
He glanced around as if he was about to tell me a secret. Then he leaned forward, and, in a low voice, he said: “Please, I need urgent 2K.”
I blinked. “Sir?”
“Urgent 2K, please. Just small something to hold body.”
I stared at him. “Sir, this is a bank. We don’t dash money here.”
He scratched his head. “Ah, but don’t you people have customer appreciation?”
I stifled a laugh. “Sir, customer appreciation does not mean we give out free money.”

He sucked his teeth. “Ahn ahn, even politicians dey do palliative. You mean Prestige Capital Bank cannot help me with small change?”
I took a deep breath. “Sir, we are not a charity. Do you want to apply for a loan?”
“Loan? Ah! So I should come and fill one hundred forms because of 2K?”
“Sir, that’s how banks work…”
“God forbid! I will find another solution!” And with that, he walked out, grumbling about how banks are wicked and don’t help the common man.
Oyinkan, who had been listening the entire time, collapsed into laughter.
“Onome!” she gasped. “Urgent 2K?! From the bank?!”

I shook my head. “Wonders shall never end.”