"Have you submitted the leave application?" inquired Dennis, my assistant, while standing behind my desk.
"I haven't done that yet! I plan to complete the security monthly report before submitting it," I responded, eyes fixed on the computer as my fingers danced on the keyboard.
I completed the last paragraph and proofread it to ensure no errors existed. Given Commandant Irabor's intolerance for mistakes, speed and precision were paramount in my role as the commandant's secretary. Content with the flawless document, I clicked 'print' and attentively heard the machine's whirr and whoosh, retrieving the freshly printed paper.
I seized the printed document, stood up from my chair, neatly filed it alongside my annual leave application, and sauntered into the commandant's office. The office was pleasantly cool, thanks to the air conditioning. A flat-screen television softly glowed on the wall. Flower pots adorn the tiled floor, adding a touch of nature. A fridge stood by the side, housing a basket of fresh fruits. The window was dressed in curtain slides with blinds closed, shutting out natural light.
Commandant Irabor sat in an executive leather swivel chair, positioned behind a large wooden table adorned with neatly arranged files and stationery. She glanced up from the newspaper and greeted me with a warm smile as I approached.
"Are you done with the security report?"
"Yes sir!" I responded.
Standing at ease, I presented the file in front of her, hands behind my back. I watched as she perused the security report, a smile lingering on her face. However, as she intended to return it to the file, her eyes fell on my application letter, and the smile gave way to a frown.
"I find it hard to believe you're requesting a one-month leave with so much to be done at the office," she remarked, placing the application back in the file and closing it.
"Sir, I've already postponed twice this year, and considering it's October with November reserved for high-ranking officers, the annual leave is my only chance to visit and spend time with my parents. I see them only once a year. I plead for your consideration in granting this application."
She gazed at me for what felt like an eternity, then seized her pen, scribbled some words on paper, and handed the file to me. Retrieving her newspaper, it became apparent she was done with our discussion. Though I sensed her displeasure about my one-month absence, I reassured myself with the knowledge that I had a capable assistant to fill the void.
Outside her office, I eagerly opened the file and glimpsed at her scribbled note, which simply read "approved." Excitement surged through me, prompting a little dance. I headed to the administration department to process my leave pass. Tomorrow marks the beginning of a thirty-day escape to Kwara State, away from the early morning rush and office stress, to spend precious time with my parents.
Only two weeks into my stay in Kwara State, my phone rang, and it was Uche, the secretary from the administration department. I answered the phone, and we exchanged our usual pleasantries and playful banter, and then there was a sudden silence. Unsure if it was a network issue or something else, I called out his name to confirm if he could still hear me.
"I am here," he responded. "I called because I have your file with me."
Adrenaline surged through my veins, quickening my breath as goosebumps adorned my skin. The revelation that my file was on his desk without my knowledge triggered a primal dance of concern. In the administrative department, a file on Uche's desk without the person's awareness often signaled an offense. I ruminated on what could have gone wrong, knowing I hadn't committed any wrongdoing before taking my leave.
"What have I done?" I uttered, my voice unintentionally reduced to a whisper, betraying my growing anxiety.
"Commandant Irabor claims you've been disclosing confidential information, and she wants you reassigned to the Finance Department," Uche disclosed.
I couldn't believe my ears. In my seven years of working with commandants, including three before her, none had ever accused me of divulging information. It seemed incredulous. I rarely interacted with colleagues outside my office, and even during lunch breaks, my conversations were brief and restrained. However, I knew I had a clean conscience and was not guilty of the alleged offense. This accusation, was likely her way of retaliating for my insistence on taking leave.
With a heavy heart, I went to bed that night, praying for vindication. The remaining leave days were overshadowed by the anticipation of how people would perceive me upon my return. As the leave concluded, I traveled back to resume at my new office, facing a barrage of questions from curious individuals eager to know if the accusation was true and others simply looking to mock me.
As the Commandant's Secretary, I had the privilege of not wearing my security outfit, but with the new posting, I found myself obligated to appear in uniform. Despite attempts by high-ranking officers to intercede on my behalf, the commandant remained unyielding. Resigned to my fate, I resumed my role at my new office.
As if the universe heard my plea, a month later, she faced accusations of a security breach and was summoned back to the national headquarters. A new female commandant was dispatched to take over, but she resisted, locking her office and refusing to come to work. The news reached the Commandant General, prompting the Zonal Commandant to intervene by breaking into her office and instructing officers to remove her belongings. Her replacement occurred in a manner that carried a sense of shame. Strangely, there was a certain satisfaction in knowing she had experienced a fate similar to the one she had imposed on me.
"Hey Faith, Charlie Charlie demands your presence, Indian Mike Mike," a familiar voice echoed behind me. I turned to see Isioma, one of the commandant's staff, calling out to me.
"What have I done now?" I questioned, a sense of apprehension creeping in, but I shook it off.
She shrugged and walked away. I rose from my chair, adjusting my uniform, before making my way to the commandant's office. As I walked, it became evident that the news of my summons had spread like wildfire, with various eyes following my every step. Upon arriving, I knocked on the door and waited until I heard a "come in" before entering.
"Morning, Sir!" I saluted, my right hand touching my forehead and my legs standing at attention.
"Easy! Are you Faith David?" She asked.
Yes, sir!" I responded, parting my legs and placing my hands behind my back. Despite knowing the summon may not end well, I ensured my face remained devoid of emotions. I chose not to wear my fear and concern on my sleeves.
"Okay! Starting tomorrow, you'll resume here as my secretary. I've heard you are good at your job, and I prefer working with the best. Any concerns?"
"No sir! Thank you, sir."
"You can go and pick up your posting letter from the administration department."
I saluted and followed the given directive. As I descended the stairs, my heart leapt with joy. I rushed to the administration department, and the letter was handed to me. I glanced at it, and my lips curled upward in a smile. That which was taken from me has been restored.
As for Commandant Irabor, she sent a cheerful New Year message the next year, and we haven't been in touch since
