Vetty Nwadialor pulled up with a screech behind her office staff bus at Yaba Market garage. Taking a deep breath to quell the excitement bubbling in her stomach, she opened the car door and got down. Her two back doors opened simultaneously. Three ladies and a young man alighted and stood beside the car to wait.
She went to the bus, pulled the door open, stepped aside, and watched the occupants alight. Ten of them, seven women and three men; all dressed like her, in a white monogrammed T-shirt over black trousers.
With a file folder in hand, Vetty waited for her group to assemble. When all their attention focused on her, she appraised them for a moment and then raised her voice a notch to carry over the noise and clatters at the garage as she addressed them.
“Okay, ladies and gentlemen, here we are, on the first day of our campaign. Go out there, enter the market, the shops, the stalls, and talk to them, convince them, confuse them, whichever, but get them to open an account with us. The target for today is fifty customers for each person.”
At their gasps, she flashed her winsome smile, revealing gapped white teeth. “Good luck.” She watched them go. She had flagged off the campaign and expected nothing but success, as usual.
Turning to those beside her car, she opened the file folder and gave each a sheet of white paper with the names of six companies. They studied the names on their papers.
“Any question?”
“Must we go to all six companies today, ma?” The question came from one of the females.
She looked at the intelligent and eager faces of her small group of new employees. They would deliver. She knew she picked them specifically to penetrate the big companies and talk to the top people.
“If possible, yes. If not, tomorrow is another day. We have one week to comb this area.”
They nodded.
“Remember our agreed time and make sure you are back here. I don’t want to wait for anyone, and...” she looked at them with a firm glint in her eyes.
“Concentrate on the job; talk to everyone from the top person to the least, even the cleaners should not be left out.”
"Yes, ma."
“Okay, good luck.”
Her broods were out for the chase, and she had no doubt. In the end, another feather would be added to her success cap. A giddy feeling washed over her, and her face glowed with joy.
Vetty opened her car, took her handbag, locked up the car, and instructed the bus driver to take care of both cars. She checked her file, noted the address of the first company on her list, not sure of the location. She enquired from a passer-by; satisfied with the direction she left the park with bouncing, confident steps.
Vetty loved her work as head of the Marketing Department of Omega bank, Yaba branch, but she itched to get to the head office as the General Marketing Officer, and with this vision in mind, she worked assiduously in her present position.
Full of intelligent and innovative ideas, Vetty devised alternative methods and plans to increase the bank’s customer base every year. This year’s campaign, she tagged Neighbourhood Awareness, a one-week intensive marketing outreach to organisations, companies, and shops within their vicinity.
When she unveiled her plan during a general management meeting, it received instant approval based on her past performances. Last year alone, the daily contribution, Esusu, she introduced for market people and small-scale business owners, yielded financial success to the bank and earned her an award.
At the company's gate, she greeted the security man and stated her mission. He opened the gate and directed her to the lobby.
"Thank you, sir." She switched on her customer's smile. "You can open an account with us, sir."
"Haa, madam, I never get enough money to feed my family, not to talk of seeing leftovers to put for bank." The middle-aged man said with a self-conscious laugh.
“Oga, it is good to save small-small money for tomorrow.”
"I know, madam, but where do you see the money to save?" He shrugged. "I get wife, I get children that go to school, and my salary no reach to do anything."
“But you don’t need plenty of money to open the account. With five hundred naira, you fit open account with us and add small money inside, and you fit withdraw all the money anytime you want too.”
“That one is good, I think say I need plenty of money to open the account.”
She laughed. “No sir, this one is a special account; we want everybody to save money with our bank.” She opened her file, brought out forms, and gave one to him.
He took it and looked at it. “Okay, ma, make I go through it, then think about it and tell you my mind.”
“I will help you fill the form if you want.”
“Emmm, when you come out.”
She gave him a nod and an acquiescing smile as she left. She walked into the lobby. A young girl sat behind a desk, pressing a phone. "Excuse me."
“Yes, how can I help you?” She dropped the phone faced down on her desk.
“Please, I want to see the Managing Director of the company.”
“Do you have an appointment with him?”
“Not really. My name is Vetty Nwadialor, I’m from Omega Bank, and I’m here to discuss bank formalities with your MD.”
"Our chairman is around and is having a meeting with the MD; maybe you should see the accountant."
“Well, that’s okay.” Vetty smiled at her. “Do you have an account with us?” “No, madam.”
“This is a good opportunity to do so; we are having a special customer account campaign.”
"Thank you, madam, but I already have an account with another bank."
“Of course, I know, but nothing stops you from opening another account. Besides, we’re in the same neighbourhood, so you don’t have to go far for your banking services.” She opened her file and gave her a form. “It will only cost you five hundred naira to open an account with us.”
She attended to each person according to their level of income. Of course! She wouldn’t ask the managers to open an account with five hundred naira; this type of account was meant for junior workers and students.
The receptionist took the form, gave it a cursory glance, and dropped it on her desk. “I will go through it later.” She pointed forward. “Go straight down this passage to the end. The last door on the right is the accountant’s office.” “Thanks so much.”
As she turned, the receptionist opened her drawer, dropped the form inside, closed it, picked her phone and resumed her chat on WhatsApp.
Vetty knocked on the door.
“Yes, come in.” A cheerful voice said within.
She opened the door, strode in with a wide smile. “Good morning, sir.” She stretched forth her hand.
The accountant, mouth agape, stood up and took the proffered hand. “Good morning, madam.” He indicated for her to sit down.
She sat and favoured him with her customer smile. “I’m Vetty Nwadialor, from Omega Bank; it is our Neighbourhood Awareness Campaign week. We want to know our neighbours and tell them about our special bank services.”
“Welcome madam, I'm Mr Omotayo. But this T-shirt you're wearing is good o, I hope you will give me one as part of your awareness services.”
Vetty laughed. “It's for staff and not for customers, except you want to join us in the bank work.”
Mr Omotayo weaved his hands, face scrunched in horror. “Haaa! No, bank marketing? Count me out, if it is to sit and count money, fine, but to walk the street for customers.” He shook his head sideways. “I don’t have the anointing; I’m not good at convincing people.”
“Tough job, right?
“Yes o, very tough.” He admitted. “And it requires patience too. I don’t have that virtue as well.” He laughed.
“Yes, patient, you're right, people are eccentric. We put up with a lot just to meet up with our targets; we swallow insults and smile through rejections.” She grimaced, and Mr Omotayo smiled in sympathy.
"The banks are wiser now, they send out pretty women to do the marketing. A look at the woman's beautiful face and shapely contour will compel a man to fill the form and bring out his chequebook." He laughed at his remark.
“We are not out to entice men but to do our job and earn a living.” She knew many men reasoned like him. They felt female marketers were entrapment for them. When she got the job, her husband didn’t allow her to take it. According to him, bank marketing was nothing short of prostitution in disguise. It took a lot of convincing before he relented.
To her, everything boarded on ethics and character. Though, to succeed in the job, you have to spread some charms to get the customer’s attention and make them listen. But that doesn’t mean you must spread your legs too, except for a person with a loose moral attitude.
“Like you, for example.” Mr Omotayo continued. “If I can keep you here all day, just to look at your beautiful smile and admire your gapped teeth, I will do that.” He winked.
Vetty knew a lewd man when she came across one. Better to cut short the pleasantries and get back to business. "You are a very funny man. If we do that, we will fail in our duties to our employers." She opened her file. "This is our form; you can open an account for yourself, your organisation..."
The door opened. She craned her neck backwards and watched as two men entered the office. One stocky with a protruded stomach that stretched his shirt and a chubby smile on his round face, the other, slim, tall, dark, strong jaw, clean shaved and a broad shoulder encased in a dark suit.
And eyes deep and penetrating bored into hers for a brief second. She felt an aura of power around him and narrowing her eyes; she studied him through her lashes.
Mr Omotayo stood up. “Good morning sirs.”
"Good morning Mr Omotayo, it seems you have a visitor." The man in the dark suit said.
“She is from the bank. Madam, meet my chairman.” He stretched his hand towards the man in the dark suit.
“And my MD.” His eyes went to the stocky man beside him.
Vetty stood up.
"No madam, sit down." The man in the dark suit said courteously.
“Thank you, sir, but if I am sitting while the rest of you are standing I will feel dwarfed and unable to talk properly.”
“If you’re not done with him yet, we can come back later.” His eyes flickered over her, taking in nothing more than a general impression of her.
“Incidentally, you are part of the people I want to see.” She switched on her pre-packaged smile.
“What can we do for you?” Mr Bello butted in.
"I'm Vetty Nwadialor, from Omega Bank; we are having a week-long campaign tagged Neighbourhood Awareness...,"
As she rattled on, a bored expression came over Tonye’s face, but he inclined his ear and waited for her to end the introduction. “Madam, thank you, but already we have banks we deal with.”
"Of course sir, I wouldn't expect an organisation this big not to have a bank, but then, it is not good to put all your eggs in one basket."
“You’re right, madam; we have banks that handle our accounts.”
“Sure sir, but there is still no harm in spreading your eggs to several other baskets.” She noted a faint smile in his eyes. Encouraged, she went on. “We have lots of services to offer to your company.”
The men were silent.
Her fixed smile broadened. “It doesn’t necessarily have to be the company’s account; it can be your personal accounts too.” Her eyes met Tonye’s and held for a second.
“Madam, I think you’re doing a good job, but I have banks I use and so is everyone here.”
"I already have an account in your bank." Mr Omotayo chipped in.
“Good.” She favoured him with a sweet smile. “Then, you can open for your children too.” She looked at the two men to include them. “We have wonderful and friendly account packages for children and young adults. And for all our kids and youths account holders, we organise a quarterly get together tagged ‘Catch Them Young’; an interactive section that teaches them the gains of saving for the future.”
"Madam, good idea, but I don't believe in all these new generation banks and their ways of conducting business. I don't trust them too, so I use the old reliable banks I started the business with." Tonye told her.
“The new generation banks are more flexible and innovative, with good customer relationships, aside from a strong capitalization base.” She looked straight into his eyes. “You have nothing to fear, sir.”
Tonye knew she wouldn't relent if he continued with the argument. For the first time, his eyes lost their indifference. He looked at her with interest, noticing details, the slender frame, the short wavy hair, the fair skin and the sharp eyes that stared back, daring him.
His instinct aroused, he took a mental note of his observations. Though he didn't like overconfident women, he respects intelligence and appreciates commitment.
A discreet cough from Mr Bello broke the silence.
Tonye glanced at his wristwatch. He had spent too much time in a sale talk that would lead nowhere with a tenacious woman that wouldn't let go.
“I can see you’re passionate about your job, maybe we should reschedule this meeting for the next time.” He brought out his wallet and gave her his call card. “My number is there. Call me anytime within the week. I will be in this office for two weeks, four hours a day.”
Mr Bello's mouth dropped open. Tonye never gave out his card to a woman this easily. Vetty took the card, opened her file and dropped it inside without a glance at it.
“Well, madam, it's been nice speaking with you.” Tonye glanced at Mr Bello. He moved towards the door.
Vetty knew a polite dismissal. "Thanks, sirs, for giving me an audience." With a smile hovering over her face, she turned and walked out with measured, confident steps as the men watched her.
She left with the conviction she would get a result on her next visit; the man in the dark suit didn't give her his card for the fun of it. Somehow, he looked familiar. In her mind's eyes, she went over his face again, but couldn't place him.
