Chapter Six
1569 Words
Terms and Conditions
Tobe saw the email before breakfast.
ADVISORY PROGRAMME ASSIGNMENT
Assigned Founder: Amara Nwosu
Lead Advisor: Tobe Okafor
Programme Duration: Six Weeks
Minimum Sessions: Four
He read it twice.
Then called Tara.
She answered on the third ring. “Good morning to you too.”
“What is this?”
“That question needs context.”
“The advisory programme.”
A pause.
“Oh.”
“Tara.”
“You were selected as one of the lead advisers.”
“I know that part.”
“And the organisers assigned founders based on panel recommendations and sector needs.”
“I know that part too.”
“Then I’m doing very well so far.”
“Tara.”
She sighed. “What exactly is the problem?”
“I did not agree to six weeks.”
“You did.”
“No.”
“You signed the agreement.”
Tobe went still.
“What agreement?”
“The one Mr Adeyemi sent before the forum. Page three.”
Silence.
Tara’s voice became suspiciously cheerful. “You didn’t read page three.”
“I read the agreement.”
“Apparently not page three.”
Tobe closed his eyes briefly.
“Minimum four sessions?”
“Yes.”
“And Amara Nwosu?”
“Assigned to you.”
“Why?”
“You scored her highest on founder competence and recommended her.”
“That was an investment recommendation.”
“Apparently the organisers interpreted your enthusiasm broadly.”
“I was not enthusiastic.”
“Of course.”
Tobe ended the call before Tara enjoyed herself any further.
Across Lagos, Amara was already at the studio when the same email arrived.
She read it once.
Then again.
Chisom appeared beside her shoulder.
“Six weeks?”
Amara shifted the phone away. “Do you mind?”
“No.”
“You should.”
Chisom grinned. “And Mr Okafor is your lead adviser?”
“Yes.”
“The interrogation continues.”
“It was not an interrogation.”
“Maybe that’s his love language.”
Amara stared at her.
Chisom raised both hands and walked away laughing.
Amara’s phone rang almost immediately.
Zina.
She considered ignoring it.
Then answered.
“Six whole weeks with Mr Corridor?”
“Good morning, Zina.”
“I am having an excellent morning.”
“I can tell.”
“Four sessions minimum.”
“You read the email very thoroughly for someone who isn’t involved.”
“I support my friends.”
“You investigate them.”
“Same family.”
Amara smiled despite herself.
The first meeting was arranged for the following week.
Tara originally suggested Tobe’s office, but Amara requested the studio.
“If he’s supposed to review operations,” she explained, “he should see the operations.”
When Tara relayed it, Tobe agreed immediately.
“Send me the address.”
The days before their first advisory meeting passed quickly for Amara.
Orders moved.
Fittings changed.
A supplier delayed fabric.
Two new inquiries came in.
By the morning of Tobe’s visit, she had changed her blouse twice.
She noticed this only after the second change and became annoyed with herself.
Eventually she chose an ivory blouse, black wide-leg trousers, small gold hoops and a sleek low ponytail.
Professional.
Simple.
Entirely unrelated to the fact that Tobe Okafor was coming to her studio.
Chisom looked at her once and wisely said nothing.
Then the front door opened.
“He’s here.”
Amara kept her eyes on the document in front of her.
“Okay.”
A beat.
“Still fine in daylight too.”
Amara looked up. “Go away.”
Tobe entered in dark trousers and a pale blue shirt, no jacket, no tie.
He greeted the team, then turned to Amara.
“Good morning.”
“Good morning.”
She gestured towards the small refreshment area. “Coffee? Water? Tea? Human warmth?”
His eyebrow lifted.
“Is that on the agenda?”
Amara smiled. “We’ll work on you.”
They began with a tour.
Amara showed him the production area, cutting tables, fabric storage, finishing and dispatch.
Tobe asked questions without interrupting.
How many units could they complete comfortably?
Which process caused the most delays?
Where did the rejected pieces go?
How many suppliers were essential to current production?
By the time they reached packaging, he had identified two weaknesses.
“You depend too heavily on one supplier.”
“I know.”
“And this packaging process is wasting time.”
“I know that too.”
“Then why hasn’t it changed?”
“Because knowing a problem exists and having the capacity to fix everything at once are different things.”
Tobe looked at her.
“Fair.”
Amara blinked.
“What?”
“You agreed with me.”
“I do that when people are correct.”
“Should I document the date?”
He almost smiled.
They continued.
What surprised Amara was what he noticed beyond the numbers.
He watched how the team moved around her.
How one machinist brought a problem directly to her instead of hiding it.
How Chisom interrupted with a production question without looking terrified.
How Amara checked a finished garment before approving it.
When they returned to her office, Tobe sat opposite her desk.
“Your team brings you problems.”
Amara frowned. “They’re supposed to.”
“Many teams don’t.”
“What do they do?”
“Hide them until they become expensive.”
She leaned back.
“And mine?”
“They’re not afraid of you.”
“I should hope not.”
“That’s valuable.”
The compliment caught her off guard.
“Thank you.”
He nodded once.
They moved to expansion.
Amara wanted to test two additional markets without compromising production quality.
Tobe reviewed her figures.
“Two could work.”
She stared at him.
“What?”
“You agree again.”
“Try not to become dependent on it.”
She smiled.
“Tobe.”
It slipped out naturally.
His eyes lifted from the page.
For a second, neither said anything.
Then he smiled.
A real one.
Small, but unmistakable.
Amara looked down at the document before he could see how much she noticed.
Chisom appeared with lunch before the conversation could shift.
She placed the food on the side table.
“You’ve both been in here for hours.”
Tobe checked the time.
His expression changed.
“I have a meeting.”
Amara looked at the clock too. “You’re late.”
“I noticed.”
“Should I document the date?”
He gave her a look.
She smiled.
Before leaving, he asked for her supplier contracts.
Amara’s expression changed immediately.
“No.”
Tobe paused.
“No?”
“I can give you redacted copies. Not the full contracts.”
“You expect me to advise on supplier risk without seeing the terms?”
“You can see the relevant terms. You do not need every confidential detail.”
He held her gaze for a moment.
Then nodded.
“Good.”
Amara frowned. “Good?”
“It was a test.”
Her eyes narrowed.
“You asked me for confidential business information as a test?”
“Yes.”
“That is irritating.”
“Useful, though.”
“No.”
“Never hand over confidential information because someone sounds authoritative.”
Amara folded her arms.
“You enjoy this far too much.”
“Next week. Same time.”
She blinked. “The programme only requires four sessions.”
“I know.”
“Then why are we meeting again next week?”
Tobe picked up his phone.
“Because four won’t be enough.”
He walked towards the door.
Then stopped beside the ivory dress displayed near the work area.
His eyes moved over the side construction.
“The repair.”
Amara looked at him.
“What about it?”
“It was clever.”
She went still.
He had noticed.
Not merely the dress.
The alteration.
The detail she had changed after the seam split.
“Thank you.”
Tobe nodded and left.
Chisom waited exactly three seconds before appearing.
“He stayed a long time.”
“Work.”
“He smiled.”
“Work.”
“He noticed the dress.”
Amara pointed towards the production floor.
“Chisom.”
“I’m going.”
Her phone buzzed.
An email from Tobe.
A short preparation list for their next meeting.
At the bottom was one additional line.
And eat before meetings. Your concentration dropped towards the end.
Amara stared at it.
“Unbelievable.”
“What?” Chisom called.
“Nothing.”
Another email arrived minutes later.
This one from the forum coordinator.
Her business had progressed to the investment negotiation stage.
For several seconds, Amara simply stared.
Then she stood.
“Chisom.”
Something in her voice brought everyone’s attention towards her.
“We made it.”
The studio erupted.
Later, when the noise settled and the congratulations slowed, Amara opened the panel summary attached to the email.
Founder competence scores.
Comments.
Recommendations.
One score was higher than all the others.
Tobe Okafor.
And beside his name:
RECOMMEND.
Amara sat back.
He had misjudged her.
That much she knew.
What she had not expected was the uncomfortable possibility that she might have misjudged him too.
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