How difficult it is for a girl to get employed without sexual favours

Being a hustler is tough. It is worse when you are a lady. Not only do you have to struggle with the others to get a job, but you also have to deal with the mannerless men who are more than ready to jump on your desperation. These men will act like they have your life in the balance and give you an ultimatum of a night of pleasure with them to secure your future.                 

Some experiences with these breed of men leave a bitter taste in one’s mouth, so much that you can’t stand anything that represents them.

For me, whenever I see a dark sleek sports car parked somewhere on the road, or speeding past me while I am on a matatu, I get all worked up. I feel like my pancreas and spleen start beating up against each other and in the process bile finds its way up my throat.

There is this one guy who just spoilt them for me. I am not even sure if men under his age group are qualified to be called guys because he is not even cool to start with.

The ‘destroyer’ is a man heading to his fifties, receding hairline, potbelly and all those horrible things that come with age. He owns three different companies which are doing quite well.

He is a learned man with credentials that are impressive and equally intimidating when you put them alongside yours. Of course that is the only way he gets to give keynote speeches and all that whatnot in conferences overseas. He is a man of great means and he does very little to hide it.

But that is not why I loathe sports cars or even want to throw up when I see one. You see I met this guy, let’s call him Prof, through a mutual friend who recommended me to him for a job in one of his three companies. My friend was sure Prof would definitely have something for a wide eyed, curious and weeny bit desperate writer like me.

Being the old friends they were, Prof took me in and gave me an assignment. He said the assignment was close to his heart, so close that if I pulled it off, I would get a very high post in one of his companies. Just imagine that, I was going to have my own desk or corner office overlooking the beautiful city. If I was lucky maybe I could get my own P.A.

Only God knows how I would morph into the epitome of class once I got this supposedly high post in Prof’s company. But that office was not going to bring itself, my hard work would. So I put my back into researching, writing and sending emails left right and centre. I wanted to prove my worth.

Prof was impressed, and he expressed it frequently with a few treats in high end Country Clubs with top management where he is a platinum member. Heh I already saw how I was going to age with grace, with all the opulence I was being treated to.

One weekend Prof, asked me to accompany him to the country club. So we got in his sports car and sped off to the country club. On the way he moved in for a kiss, which I shrug off vigorously. You would understand my reaction if you saw Prof, his lips were far from kissable, even you would not want his lips next to yours.

My mind started making infinite calculations of just what I had gotten myself into and how I was going to get out. Prof, obviously angered by my move started huffing and puffing with anger. Then he proceeded to rant and rave of how he had done me a big favour , how lucky I was to be in his company and that nothing comes for free. I should not be so backward he said and yelled several other unprintable words. Then in an instant he threw me out of his sports car, in the middle of nowhere. Just like that.

I found my way to town and got back home safely, but I have never stopped hating sports cars. When I see one, I remember how hard it is for a girl to land a job without being asked for sexual favours. When I see one, I think of how sad it is that some people put little or no value of what you have to give as a person. When I see a sports car, I see the numerous prosperous men who dangle job opportunities at desperate girls and use it as a tool to solicit sex from them.