I Owed Nobody, But I Was Sweating Like I Owed HR – My VI Interview Story

Last Monday morning, around 7:58 AM, I was standing in front of a glass building in Victoria Island, sweating like someone who owed HR money.

After more than 10 years in the career world, helping people with job search strategies, resume optimization, and career transitions, I thought nothing could surprise me again.

I was wrong.

That day humbled me.

I had applied for a senior role at a top tech firm — a position I actually deserved, with my experience in career development, team leadership, and onboarding strategies.

But the competition was mad.

Gen Z tech bros.

International returnees.

People with LinkedIn Premium glow.

Meanwhile, I was standing there clutching my CV like it was my WAEC result.

My phone buzzed.

It was my friend, Femi.

Femi: “Bro, you go kill the interview. Just breathe.”

Me: “Femi, their entrance alone looks like they hire angels.”

Femi: “Abeg no go faint.”

I took one deep breath and walked into the lobby.

That was when I saw her.

A lady in a sky-blue suit, sitting alone, reviewing her portfolio. She looked focused… but tense. The tense that comes from unemployment mixed with hope.

She smiled at me.

“Are you here for the same interview?”

“Yes,” I said. “Senior Career Strategy Lead.”

Her eyes widened. “Ah! I’m applying for the mid-level role. Please wish me luck o.”

I wished her luck—because we all need luck in this job search economy.

The receptionist eventually called my name.

“Sir, you can go in.”

I stood up, adjusted my tie, and walked into one of the most intimidating boardrooms I had ever seen.

Three interviewers.

One projector.

A bowl of mint sweets nobody was touching.

The lead interviewer looked at me and said:

“Tell us about a time you solved a complex workplace problem.”

I smiled.

This was my field.

I started talking — confidently, professionally, with the kind of clarity you only get after surviving terrible bosses.

But then…

My stomach made a sound.

A violent sound.

A sound like thunder speaking Yoruba.

Everyone heard it.

I froze.

The second interviewer cough-laughed.

“Are you… okay?” he asked.

“Yes. Just—uh—digesting ideas.”

We continued.

Midway through my presentation, my stomach betrayed me again.

This time louder.

Loud enough that the projector shook.

The lead interviewer narrowed his eyes.

“Did you eat something strange this morning?”

I whispered, defeated, “Hot puff-puff.”

The room fell silent.

Then—

A sudden knock on the door.

The HR assistant rushed in.

“Sorry to interrupt, but—”

She pointed at me.

“Sir, your Bolt driver is downstairs. He said you forgot something important in the car.”

I blinked.

“My what?”

Before I could react, the driver himself walked into the room — sweating, out of breath.

He held up a small black nylon bag.

“Sir! You forgot your medication! You told me to bring it if your stomach starts!”

The interview panel looked at me like I was a ticking time bomb.

The driver continued:

“This thing dey work fast! Please take it before your stomach explode!”

I wanted to evaporate.

One interviewer whispered:

“Jesus.”

Another said:

“Please, go and take it.”

I collected the nylon, muttered “Thank you,” and ran to the restroom like Tobi Amusan.

When I returned, embarrassed but stabilized, the panel was waiting.

I apologized.

But the lead interviewer smiled and said:

“If you can stay this calm under pressure, you’ll survive our clients. Let’s continue.”

I exhaled.

The interview resumed.

I delivered my points sharply this time — confident, composed, like someone who had just fought spiritual and biological battles and won.

When I finished, they nodded.

“Great presentation,” the lead interviewer said.

I stepped out of the room shaking.

The girl in the blue suit rushed to me.

“How was it?”

I sighed.

“It was… an adventure.”

She laughed.

An hour later, I got the email.

I had been offered the job.

I screamed.

But the twist?

That girl in the blue suit got hired too.

For a different department.

We ended up starting the same day.

Three months later…

She became my closest friend.

Six months later…

Something else happened.

But that part…

I’ll save for another chapter.