It was 9:03 a.m. on a Monday when the dreaded message appeared in Bola’s inbox: “Zoom Meeting: Q2 Strategy Sync – Mandatory”.
She sighed dramatically, as though she had just been asked to hike Mount Kilimanjaro barefoot.
The problem wasn’t the meeting. It was the people in the meeting.
There was Mr. Adekunle, who unmuted his mic only to yell at his children mid-call, there was Clara, who forgot her camera was on and once applied a full face mask during the CEO’s presentation and of course, there was Bode, the man who refused to wear a shirt. Ever.
Bola joined the call late (fashionably, she told herself). Everyone was already talking. Or yelling. Or both.
“I think we need to circle back on the synergy of the vertical alignment—” someone was saying, clearly using all the business jargon in one sentence.
Then, halfway through the meeting, it happened.
A mysterious voice echoed across the call:
“Who took my stew?!”
Everyone froze.
It was a male voice. Deep. Agitated. Possibly hungry.
“Sorry,” the voice continued, unaware he was broadcasting to 37 people, including the CFO. “I kept it in the fridge beside the fish. It had goat meat. Big ones.”
More silence.
“Maybe it was that foolish boy that lives upstairs. I’ll change the Wi-Fi password again!”
Then: click. The mic went off.
The screen exploded with laughter. Even the HR manager, known for smiling only during payroll, chuckled.
Bola couldn’t breathe. Clara had tears in her eyes. Mr. Adekunle shouted, “Whoever it is, I just want the recipe!”
After that day, no one remembered the Q2 strategy. No one remembered who led the meeting. But they all remembered the stew. And every Monday after that, someone would mysteriously name the Zoom call: Stew Recovery Meeting.
Even Bode wore a shirt once, in honor of the "Goat Meat Incident".
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