Chapter 1: The Job Interview That Wasn't
If you've ever worn a full suit in 35-degree heat only to find out you're at the wrong address, congratulations—we're siblings now.
I, Kelvin Owusu, had one mission that morning: Get a job before Auntie Vida kicks me out or turns my mattress into suya. She said I had one week left on my "failure rent."
So I ironed my one good shirt (burnt one sleeve), borrowed a tie from Uncle Kwame (still smelled like palm wine), and printed my CV at a cyber café run by a 14-year-old who charged me GHS 3 extra because I "looked desperate."
The job listing said "fast-paced environment, no experience needed." I showed up pumped.
But something was off. The security man was wearing white gloves. A woman walked past in a gele taller than my dreams. A DJ was setting up speakers. Did I come too early?
Ten minutes later, a man in a shiny kaftan handed me a plate of jollof and said,
"Welcome to the engagement party. The bride's cousin is also called Kelvin!"
I had crashed an engagement.
WITH MY CV IN HAND.
End of Chapter 1