Another one bites the dust…

Cory Monteith. Michael Jackson. Whitney Houston. What two things do these names have in common? Fame/wealth. Undisputed access to tons and tons of money, acclaim, all that good stuff.

The second thing is illicit drugs/death. Whatever it is they snorted, smoked, injected or inhaled, it led to their death, and very early too. Cory Monteith was 31, Michael Jackson was 50. Talk about lives being cut short.

Exactly one week ago, when I heard Philip Seymour Hoffman had been found dead on the 2nd of February with a needle still stuck in his arm and heroin (a special type called ‘Ace of Spades’) in packets around him, I was sad, then angry, then sad, and angry all over again.

Sad – he died young, he was just 46. He was very popular too, an Oscar award winner, and recently starred in Hunger Games (which by the way I have never watched and don’t think I will ever see because I don’t like fight fight).

Angry – are there not enough examples to prove that drugs are a sure way to die early?

Sad – heartbroken for his family, his wife/partner and their three young children. His parents, and the stigma of being related to the person ‘who died with a needle in his arm’.

Angry – what on earth made him go back to drugs after 23 years of being drug free? Whatever could have entered him all over again? They say his drugs could have been laced with something else. Ok, but why take them in the first place? Why?

I’m sure I could go the sad and angry route a few more times, but I won’t.

Psychologists say anything you do for 30 days becomes a habit – this man had been drug free for at least 8280 days! Then according to a report I read, he started abusing prescription pills, graduated to heroin, and then on to this substance that took his life.

I chatted with someone recently, and he told me the amount of thanks and gratitude he got because he gave him a $5 tip. 5 dollars. Reports say just weeks ago the now late Seymour withdrew $1200 from an ATM to pay for these drugs. $1200 on drugs when the next man is almost throwing a party because he was gifted 5 bucks.

Here’s another reason why I am angry – a child is attracted by the flickering light of a candle, and they want to touch it. Most times we let them because we know once it hurts them that first time, they most likely will not go back to it again. ‘Most likely’ because children have the attention span of a goldfish! Bless them.

23 years after, did he forget? Did he become so wealthy that he felt that the drugs would ‘fear/respect his money’ and not harm him? What was he thinking? The Bible says that the things that are written are unto us for examples.

Just like I wrote the ‘learn from it, don’t be it‘ post when Cory Monteith died, I’m writing again  – say NO to drugs. Say No, and mean it so much that whoever asked you before will be convinced you are not interested. You shouldn’t even be friends with such people in the first place!

RIP Philip Seymour Hoffman.

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Lessons in business – the silly and the wasteful one

Had a chat with a buddy the other day, and he was telling me of a lady designer, new in the fashion business, who wanted him to set up a shoot for her with some models. Cool idea right? As is with most new businesses, she didn’t have money to pay the models, but said they were welcome to some of the clothes, and for the others there would be a discount, her way of saying thank you. Still cool right?

So the models come, and in this semi-freezing weather they try on outfit after outfit, and pose for pictures. When they’re done, they get an outfit each; one of the models has her eyes on another outfit and wants to know how much it costs. “£200”, says the designer. For one dress? From someone whose clothes don’t have a label? Laughable. That’s over 50, 000 naira, for one dress. One dress that won’t wake me up in the morning, give me a shower, and then wrap me in its ‘goodness and mercy’. One dress that isn’t by Nine West, or Ralph Lauren, or …(insert any name you please). Insert the name, because this designer (for now) is nameless.

How much will designer sell for when she makes a name for herself then? Lol, that’s one less designer for me to patronize already.

You can’t afford to pay these people who have worked for you (didn’t even refund transport costs) and yet you want them to further enrich you by charging an arm, a leg, and maybe even their Nan for ‘unknown’ dresses? Pretty? Yes. Worth 200 quid? Definitely not. Did they buy them? No. Especially since the said designer refused to sell two for £150. I’d just give the design to a dressmaker to recreate for me. Simples! (insert meerkat voice)

Whatever happened to starting small, and then working your way up?

Almost borders on greed if you ask me, but hey, what do I know? Just going to walk away.

Second scenario came from a story my dad told me. You have a store or a shop in a market and about 10am, you’ve sold goods worth, let’s say £150. Then you remember you haven’t had a coke, so you buy one. Then you decide you might as well mix it with sprite, and so you buy one as well, and mix them all up in a big cup.

Then you remember that soda goes best with a snack, so you order some, just one or two. And then you see something online, maybe earrings or a dress, and hey, you’ve made some money today anyways, so you might as well order one.

Before the day is over your friend drops by and there’s a friend’s sister’s daughter’s wedding in a few weeks you should attend, and you must take asoebi* for it. How much is the fabric? Just £120 pounds. At the moment you have less than £70 so you put down £50 as deposit and promise to pay the rest in a few weeks.

When you’re locking up at the end of the day you realize that not only are you back at the zero you started with at the beginning of the day, you’re in debt.

And so you show up in church on Sunday asking the pastor to pray (and urgently too) because your enemies from the village are working day and night to see that your business doesn’t succeed.

It won’t.

Derive the lessons as you please, and have a super productive week!

*Asoebi- common in Africa, this refers to a group of friends coming together to pick one fabric they’ll wear in support of their friend who is celebrating (or mourning).