Caroline was once again acting up, and it had become very irritating even for the regular that I was. For over thirty minutes, I had to support the bad side of her high standard and demand for dressing style. The impatience that resulted from all these, plus the time elapsing, forced me to choose the first tie I saw and that pick did not at all satisfy the lady. From that moment on, she kept insisting on her preferences with the passion of the fashion critic she had convinced herself to be.
“Don’t play with this baby. Don’t forget who you are. Let me remind you-you are one of the chiefs!” She repeated with conviction and fervor.
My wife was a “fashion addict’ as they say nowadays, and unsurprisingly, my outer shell had to go the way the elegant woman she was, wanted it to be. I have to admit, her advice, even though most of the time, she abused it, had been the key factor most times in my work and lifetime in the past. Appearance counts a lot. I won many contracts and convinced many customers in my previous job also because I looked better than competitors. But this time around, I wasn’t the center of attention, so it wasn’t a great necessity for me to pay much consideration to her recommendations. If at least she could grope less, I would have gladly followed her instructions.
This is how time was passing in a funny exchange of arguments among which mine were far more relevant than hers but still couldn’t change her standpoint.
“Baby! Seriously, this tie fits you better than that one and will go well with that suit,” she persisted despite my palpable exasperation.
Then she started tenderly petting the tie of her choice and presenting it before my eyes like a dynamic sales agent in a superstore. But I didn’t fall for her seduction even after all those other techniques she used later. I was focused on the dead hour that was fast-approaching. I had barely an hour and a half left, adding that there was usually huge traffic at this time of the day. It was normal to worry!
However, some minutes later, we were still on that same subject. She insisted and finished by making me change clothes again as if I was a superstar preparing for a show. It has always been difficult for me to resist her determination. She had a strong personality, and when you add love and all the stupidity that comes with it, it becomes easier to understand how this could happen despite the electricity and the stress inside me on that day.
I was putting on this and then, change and put on a different one; a black suit and then a blue suit, a red tie then finally, a purple one. I had suffered so much. But the alarm inside my head hadn’t stopped functioning; I had frequent notifications of time without checking my watch. After each of them, my heart was brutalized and my soul, begging me to stop this nonsense we were doing and start going.
“Sorry baby! No more time to waste, I have to be there before the minister. I have to go, babe.”
“Yeah, but your job obligations shouldn’t make you lose your elegance,” she said with sincerity before adding: “you have to be well dressed in public; people will have their eyes on you. Everybody is used to seeing you stylish and classy; do not deceive them; don’t deceive all these persons who have always appreciated your dressing style, baby.”
“You’re funny love. You know, I will not be the one to be interviewed,” I said to her.
“Yeah, it’s true you are not the one but…”
Suddenly, the sound of my ringtone cut our discussion like a judge who came to end a disagreement between two lawyers. After a quick look on my watch, I felt my spirit possessed with a panic I had never felt before. I knew this could happen; I did everything to avoid it, but Eve provoked the downfall of Adam. Why me? Lord, have mercy on me.
“Where’s that phone, where is it?” I shouted at my wife who was also gravely anxious and was searching everywhere in our room in a stern terror.
I knew the call was another warning regarding my unpunctuality, but because of what happened at the beginning of the month, my greatest fear was the eventuality of mister minister being the caller. One of my colleagues narrated to me the hard time he passed through in the hands of the furious minister one time he went late to a meeting. Since that day, even his normal and regular calls sink my spirit into the darkness where doubts are like kings who abuse their power like Bokasa, ready to do whatever they want with your life as if they were the ones to provide the air you breathe. The moment his name appeared on the screen, I felt a strong pain in my head as streams of questions without answers traumatized my brain: will he sack me? Will he give me a word of warning? Then, the surplice continued during the long conversation that took place after. Finally, the deliverance comes only after he dropped the call because of his superiority and the respect he is supposed to benefit from me, create that law and expects me to follow it. So when the hard conditions of this period add to this usual stress, it was understandable to panic like someone locked in a building on fire.
