Juggling work, life, and everything in between has always been a hassle—especially in Lagos. But somehow, I’ve always found my way around it. That’s just who I am—I always want to be a step ahead, no matter what life—or this hot, chaotic Lagos—throws my way.
I tapped my phone screen to check the time, and the bold numbers flashed back at me, as if they knew I had been waiting for this very moment. 5:00 PM. A silent victory. The universal signal for every corporate worker to pack up and flee. I grabbed my bag, reapplied my lip gloss, and hurriedly said my goodbyes before stepping out of the office.
And just like that, I was immediately assaulted by the harsh Lagos sun. How was it still this bright past 5 PM? Global warming and climate change really took things seriously in Nigeria—kilode? I squinted against the light, already missing the chill of the office AC.
As I stood there, adjusting to the heat, my phone buzzed. A quick glance at the screen made me sigh—it was the group chat. Probably my best friend, again, trying to plan something for the weekend. Another attempt at gathering the crew, another event I already knew I’d probably cancel on so I did not even bother to open it.
See, the Lagos corporate 9-5 lifestyle (or ‘9-forever’ as some call it) is actually simple—it’s the exhaustion, frustration, and everyday madness that makes it complicated.
For starters, the traffic. If you live in Lagos, you already know. The hours spent on the road could equal a part-time job. You leave your house before sunrise just to make it to work on time, and by the time you return home, it’s already dark. And the roads? One moment, you’re running after a bus like your life depends on it; the next, you’re strategizing how to squeeze into a keke before someone else beats you to it. It’s a jungle in here.
Then, there’s the economy. Lagos will humble you financially. If you so much as breathe outside for too long, your account balance will feel it. The naira is dancing into the ruins, and so, like many others, I often find myself staying home more than I’d like. Going out requires financial planning—because in this mega city, fun is never cheap. (…writes in I’m a trust-fund baby though, don’t know about you.)
Now, imagine trying to balance all of this while keeping up with friends, but this is where my best friend comes in. The babe has refused to let the Lagos hustle swallow me whole. The one who still tries to make plans, still drops voice notes filled with “I know you’re busy but let’s plan this thing guy”, still checks in—even when I give her nothing to work with sometimes.
I swore I’d never let this Lagos hustle get in the way of my friendships, but ding ding ding! Reality check.
As I stood at the bus stop, waiting for a ride home, I had this nagging feeling that something was off with her. Asides the group chat, we had not truly spoken or hung out in months, but it suddenly hit me—I had been the one cancelling, every single time. It was always something—too tired, too much work, not in the mood to spend money. But she always made the effort. And now, as I checked my messages, I realized she hadn’t texted me since the last time I bailed.
I felt awful.
We had been best friends since university, back when life was simple. Weekends meant grilled chicken, ice cream, and long gists about everything and nothing. We always had time. But now, we were two adults trying to navigate life, work, and dreams—except she never let it stop her from showing up for me.
And me? Lately, I had been too burnt out to do anything besides work and sleep. The guilt settled in as I finally got into a bus, pressing my forehead against the window as the city lights blurred past. Maybe I should call her? Maybe I should make it up to her? Maybe—just maybe—I was losing something precious while chasing the corporate dream.
I exhaled. Tomorrow, I would text her first. Maybe even plan something. Then, just as I unlocked my phone to add it to my to do list, my screen lit up and her name flashed across my screen.
I hesitated.
After weeks of silence, she was calling me first.
I swallowed. For some strange reason, my heart pounded as my thumb hovered over the screen to pick the call
And then—
The call cut off.
I stared at my phone, feeling an unfamiliar twist in my chest.
