Bolaji Ogundimu had only recently been appointed as my secretary when she put in an application for a housing loan. I had put aside a lump sum of money that could be borrowed by my staff interest-free. This was operated as a round-robin. As some pay back every month, new loans could be disbursed.
Bolaji’s “lawyers” were not easily dissuaded. “The problem,” they said, “is that Bolaji’s condition is a bit desperate. We have seen where she lives and feel something needs to be done for her very urgently.” “But Bolaji is not qualified for the loan,” I insisted. “There are many other people in the queue before her.”By this time, I was past argument. My face was simply covered in tears. The Lord pointed out that He had sent two people to me to impress on me the deplorable state of Bolaji’s housing condition. Nevertheless, I failed to respond out of adherence to my so-called principles of fairness.
When I finally got to the counter, there was a malfunction with the computer. The lady attendant sought the assistance of a supervisor, who came to fix the problem. I waited, while they discussed, analysed, and fiddled with whatever was on the screen. This went on for about twenty minutes when suddenly another gentleman came to announce that the counter was closed.