DO BUSINESS WITH NIGERIANS AT YOUR OWN RISK
My dear country people it is with heavy burden and an aggrieved heart that I hereby announce that I shall no longer do business with Nigerians. Yes, I said It and I am supposed to be Miss Nigeria International. I know it is not the best way to speak about a country you are representing, but this is far becoming outrageous and I see it in every thing that involves nigerians. My beef is with this tailor in New York. Can you believe that this woman skipped town, firstly without sewing my clothes and secondly without calling to say she was going out of town for a family emergency. Apparently the missing Nigerian girl in Illinois is her niece so she left town the week that they reported the girl missing, to go be with the family. Ironically, if not coincidentally this is the same girl that I blogged about last week. Her reason for being out of town is fair enough to shutdown business. I don't have any qualms with that, in fact I sympathize with her, but where I have a problem is the complete and utter disregard for common courtesy in the form of a phone call, an out going voicemail message with your contact information or tell your husband to answer the phone or return your calls. Instead she told her husband and kids not to answer the phone and when ol'boy saw that everybody in New York was looking for his wife over their clothes, he pulled the phone out of the plug. You can just imagine how livid I was. I and my friend staked her house for like an hour on Saturday. Oh by the way, that Saturday started out very interestingly. I was supposed to wake up and 4.00 am to leave the house and get to the airport to catch the 5.30 am flight. Bros, why did I wake up at 6.30 am? I apparently slept through my alarm until it shut itself up. I later got on an 8.30 flight that got me into La Guardia at 9.30 am.
Anyways, Sunday I had to think on my feet, literarily, while walking in New York City. Speaking of which, all the people in that city are mad; from the ones flossing flip-flop in frigging fifty degree Fahrenheit weather to the ones that can't drive like human beings. I eventually ended up buying a dress and upon my return to NC, the tailor now called me to tell me she had in Chicago. I was like you know what, just overnight my fabric to me. Four years in college I had been eyeing my friends outfits that this tailor made and swearing that I would have her make mine too. I guess I am jinxed because every body has good experiences until I get involved. I just hope that none of the contestants at the pageant will have a replica of the dress I bought, otherwise the ground will have to open up and swallow me. But darn... I was told to come correct which I attempted only to be screwed over by another unreliable Nigerian. On a good note, this is just a test of how well I can work and think under pressure and since one of my biggest fears is being embarrassed, I am putting in more thinking time to figure something out. But I am sure that whatever I show up in, whether rags or otherwise, that constant huge shiny smile that I always accessorize my self with accompanied with one of those pageant waves will have the potentials to seal the deal. On more serious note, these pageants are more than just what you wear or what you look like, but more about believing that you are a winner through to the very end and that the experience is a fun and memorable one. Trust me it's already gone down in the books for me.