Why My Online Store Died & How a Passenger Revived It With Cash

Two nights ago, something happened that shook my entire journey as an online entrepreneur.

I was sitting at my workspace — ring light on, laptop fan sounding like a plane engine, and my Shopify dashboard open like a toxic relationship I couldn’t quit.

My online store had stopped getting sales.

My conversion rate was dying.

My Facebook Ads were burning money faster than Lagos nightlife burns salaries.

I kept refreshing the screen like a prayer:

0 orders. 0 messages. 0 hope.

I whispered to myself, “Is this how my passive income dreams will pass away?”

Just as I was about to curl up under my duvet and blame the economy, I got a DM on Instagram from a random girl:

“Hey… I think there’s a problem with your checkout page. I’ve been trying to buy but it keeps glitching.”

My heart literally did an Usain Bolt sprint.

I replied immediately:

“Wait, what exactly is happening?”

She sent a screenshot — and that was when I realized my worst mistake:

The Buy Now button disappeared on mobile view after I edited a theme section earlier.

I felt cold.

You know that cold that comes with realization? Yeah, that one.

I stood up from my chair, paced the room, and whispered,

“God, is this why I’ve been crying about poor sales? Because I forgot ONE BUTTON?”

While I was panicking, my phone vibrated — a ride request notification from Bolt.

I don’t drive Bolt for a living, but I do it occasionally to cool my head and clear my mind. That night, I needed breeze. I needed movement. I needed anything other than staring at Shopify.

So I grabbed my keys and said,

“Let me go and touch grass before madness touches me.”

I picked up the rider at Admiralty Way, Lekki.

It was a guy in his early 20s, hoodie on, laptop bag in hand, breathing like someone chasing deadline and destiny at the same time.

He jumped into the back seat and said,

“Bro, abeg drive fast. I’ll explain on the way.”

Ah.

Familiar line.

Suspicious too.

We hit the express and he started tapping his laptop like he was defusing a bomb.

I asked lightly,

“Guy, hope say no be heartbreak matter?”

He chuckled, shaking his head.

“I wish. It’s my e-commerce store. My supplier messed up shipping again. And now the customer from hell wants a refund.”

Immediately my spirit stood at attention.

Online business? E-commerce wahala? Yes, we are in the same ministry.

I asked,

“Dropshipping?”

He looked up, surprised.

“Omo! You too dey do online business?”

Me wey nearly cry thirty minutes ago?

I nodded proudly like a veteran.

“Yes na, digital marketing, SEO strategy, influencer ads — all the trenches.”

His shoulders dropped like someone finally met his tribe.

He sighed and said,

“I left school to chase this online business thing. If this customer requests a chargeback, my whole PayPal may freeze. I’m finished.”

I felt that. Deeply.

I told him,

“Guy, online business na rollercoaster. One day you get 100 orders, the next day you’re explaining logistics like you’re the minister of transport.”

He laughed so hard he forgot to cry.

Then I shared my own mistake from earlier — the missing checkout button.

He face-palmed and shouted,

“No wonder your conversion rate drop! Chai, devils dey hide inside theme settings!”

Bro said it with so much passion that even I started laughing at my stupidity.

As we reached his estate gate in Ajah, he paused and said,

“Bro… can you wait two minutes? I want to show you something.”

Before I could respond, he jumped out and rushed inside.

I was confused, but curiosity sat beside me in the passenger seat.

Two minutes later, he came out holding…

a brown envelope.

He opened my window and said,

“Take this. You need it more than me.”

I looked inside —

It was ₦120,000 cash.

I froze.

I blinked fast.

I said,

“Oga abeg, wetin be this? You want make EFCC arrest me?”

He shook his head.

“Bro, you talked me out of a panic attack tonight. You reminded me why I started online business. I was going to use this money to run away from my problems. But you? You inspired me to face them.”

I swallowed hard.

He continued,

“Use it to fix your marketing. Or hire a developer. Or just eat shawarma to calm your head. But take it. My spirit says make I give you.”

For the first time that day, I didn’t feel like a failed entrepreneur.

I felt seen.

I felt understood.

I felt… hopeful.

I took the envelope slowly.

“Thank you,” I whispered.

He smiled.

“When you blow, just remember me.”

I went home that night and fixed my checkout button immediately.

I ran new ads.

I optimized my SEO keywords.

I added better product descriptions.

I rebuilt my landing page like someone rebuilding their life.

By the next morning…

I woke up to 17 new orders.

My first in days.

And the first one came from the same girl who messaged me on Instagram.

I sat on my bed, staring at the screen, whispering,

“God, I see what You did here.”

That night taught me something:

Online business isn’t just about money.

It’s about growth.

It’s about patience.

It’s about failing fast and learning faster.

And sometimes… strangers will show up to push you back on your feet.