What It Feels Like

I crunched hard on the last plantain chip in my hand and smiled at my laptop. The room was warm and quiet. Exactly how I wanted it to be. The little kids in the apartment had all gone to school leaving the adults home alone in a serene compound—a perfect place to think and work.

I looked down at my feet tucked into my duvet. The sun, filtering through the window and across my bed. My hair was loosely tied. My feet had no shoes. My face wore no makeup. There was no boss to boss me around. No fear of Lagos traffic after the day's hustle. Just me in my bed with a bag of chips, staring at the blinking cursor and a soft green tee shirt on. Exactly the soft life I had always wanted.

Thanks to my new remote job.

I couldn't believe that just a few months ago, my mornings were nothing like this.

Just early morning alarms blaring, a reminder of how loud my day would be. I'd quickly get up and prepare for the day. Then I'll squeeze myself into a stiff shirt and flat slippers with heels in my hands which I will put on when I get to the office.

Then I will rush out of the house without thinking of breakfast. The only thing in my mind that morning was how I'd fight for a seat in a public bus going to my destination. And if there hap-pens to be traffic then I'll resort to jumping bikes and clinging to the rider like her life depend-ed on it, because in Lagos, it did.

Then, if I wasn't lucky to get to work on time, I'd deal with the cold stare of my boss, and that's only on days he is in a good mood. Trust me, you wouldn't want to meet him in his bad days.

Then I'll toil and work till late in the evening. By the time I get home at night, I'll be left with no strength to make dinner. Maybe I'll just munch on a few snacks and repeat the cycle tomor-row. It was like a never-ending loop.

Not until late last year did I begin applying for new jobs. Remote jobs this time.

Then one Wednesday, I had just signed off from work and squeezed myself into a bus going home. My phone battery was low just like the bus I was in.

I felt a hunch to check my email and alas.

"Dear Zerah, we are pleased to offer you the position..."

It was the first line I read.

I blinked.

Read it again.

Then again.

Then the full email.

I got home happy to meet Mama Chinedu in her kitchen. She had been the one motivating me not to give up.

"You look stressed but happy," she said as she saw me walk into the compound.

I smiled and did a silly catwalk. "Because you're looking at a new remote worker with better pay."

She paused like she didn't understand me.

“I got the remote job. They accepted me. Fully remote. Better pay... Mama, I don’t have to go to work again.” I explained further.

Mama Chinedu screamed like she had just won a visa lottery. “Chineke! (My God). Wait, are you serious?!”

I nodded. “I got it.”

“Congratulations. I'm so happy for you." She got up and hugged me.

The next day, I typed her resignation letter and sent it without shaking. A few minutes later, I got a dry “noted" reply from my boss.

Now here I am in my bed, soft music playing, my slippers kicked aside. Working my dream job. Living my dream.

I stood and walked to the window, pushed the curtains aside, and looked into the sky. A flock of birds was flying by. Just like a scene from a movie.

I smiled. "So this is what it feels like to work from home," I whispered.

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