The Bully Boss: Chapter 1

My name is Samuel, and I am the fourth child in a family beset by financial hardships. My parents, unable to afford my university education, motivated my journey to Lagos in search of better prospects. Upon my arrival, I was alone, without a single acquaintance in this sprawling metropolis. I toiled as a bricklayer and performed menial tasks, but despite my relentless efforts, the squalor took its toll on my appearance, leading some to perceive me as deranged.
Fortuitously, I encountered a man who expressed a willingness to assist me, but he requested an agency fee for his help. With no money to my name, I proposed that, upon receiving my first salary, I would split it with him—half for him and half for myself. He outright rejected my offer, insisting that I procure the sum of 10,000 naira to cover his so-called agency fee before he would consider connecting me with suitable employment.
Left with no choice, I returned to the construction site where I worked and temporarily resided, as neither friends nor churches would offer me shelter. The churches, in particular, would shoo me away before nightfall, locking their gates behind me. Each night at the site became a struggle for survival as I slept in the cold, dusty corners until dawn arrived.
My friends, Okolo and Ayomide, mocked me for having ventured out in search of work only to return to the same uncompleted building I had been trying to escape. Their ridicule struck a nerve, but I remained silent, confiding only in my thoughts and prayers. When the site engineer arrived, he informed me that I would not be working that day; he mistakenly believed I had abandoned the site and had hired another laborer in my place as a form of punishment. I pleaded with him to reconsider, but my words fell on deaf ears.
That day, desperation led me to ask Okolo and Ayomide to share their meager lunch with me. One of them remarked, "Look at your life," while I pondered the depth of my struggles. "You need prayer and counseling," Okolo suggested. I contested, “Who needs counseling, you or I?” Ayomide interjected, urging us to cease the nonsense. "Poverty is the culprit," he remarked, dismissing my woes. "If either of you messes up again, I might just draw a line and let you fight it out."
With the threat of nighttime rains looming large, I chose silence, retreating to a corner of the building to rest.
As I lay there, the site manager summoned me. “Samuel, what are you doing?” he asked. I replied that I was merely resting. He instructed me to fetch water for the workers, reminding me it was past 1 PM, so I would only receive half a day's pay. Without a moment's hesitation, I stood up and joined the work, grateful for any opportunity amidst the hardship.