MY FIRST SALARY


Do you remember your first ever salary? How much was it? How did you spend it? How old were you and what was the job? Given the same amount of money now, do you think you’d use it differently?

I was 19 years old when I got my first salary working as a Student Assistant at Strathmore Uni’s current School of Business then called School of Management & Commerce (SMC). How I landed the job and held onto it for the course of my studying there still remains something of a mystery and sheer luck.

I started the job during the ever busy graduation period when ‘extra hands’ were needed to help ease the process. For about 3 weeks my job for a start was to issue gowns to the graduands from my faculty. My task included issuing the gown, the tassel, cap and the invitation cards. Each student had to then sign against their name after they’d picked everything. I had to make sure that the numbers tallied at the end of the day lest there be a deficit of invitation cards. “You do know there just CANNOT be a deficit!” the manager disapprovingly reminded us every morning.

As a result, I had to put on a stern face whenever some of the students who were my friends then came over the table smiling wider than usual saying….

“Meeerrrcy….si unajua tu venye tumetoka mbali.” πŸ˜‚ Kenyans! Corruption is not good for your mental health, change or perish, haha.

When I got the call that the faculty needed extra hands for the job I was super excited! I’d been helping out at the Community Outreach office occasionally doing some data entry tasks trying to ‘gain skills’ for ‘outside life’ as I studied in the evening. At 19 years there was honestly nothing too big going on in my life. I was just simply a student. I was called to the SMC manager’s office one fine Friday morning.

“We want you to help out with issuing the gowns for the graduating BCOM & Diploma classes for the next few weeks and for that we shall pay you Kes. 10,000 at the end of the month.”

Let me tell you Maina, that last comment got me by surprise. I’d previously thought that the job they needed me to do at the faculty was just an extension of what I’d been doing in the other office, more like an unpaid internship. You, my dear ardent reader, cannot start to fathom the rush of joy that filled my heart when she mentioned the reward - a whooping 10K! What was a 19yr old going to do with all that money?

I was guided on the process of opening a bank account and off the new working class lady skedaddled to KCB Milimani branch. My mind was racing. I was gonna be a billionaire you guy my guy! πŸ˜‚

On my way there I thought about all the pizza I was gonna order from T-Mall, all the nice clothes I was gonna buy from Toi Market that would make me fit into the glamorous Ole Sangale campus community …I was gonna shine! I was expecting 10K, you couldn’t tell me NOTHING. I was now in the #RichPeople category.

As I walked back from KCB Milimani, my ATM card and necessary documents in tow, I passed by the Magereza House along Bishop Road and I couldn’t believe that I’d just opened an account not so far from where there was MAGEREZA. πŸ˜‚ That naΓ―ve girl just knew that immediately my millions hit the account, the occupants of Magereza would just loot it all, oh the innocence!

I couldn’t take my chances. What did your newly employed girl do?

Immediately the money hit the account at the end of the month, I went and withdrew ALL the money!
I still have that withdrawal slip tacked safely with my degree certificate, evidence of growth and backdrop of stories I will live to tell my children.

That end month and weeks following, I was the Bazzett (opposite of Bazuu) in our hostel. I would buy pizza every other 2 days. Some days I would share but other days I would eat one while large one on my own. Don’t judge me, only God can do that nanii. Omera, I was LOADED a gudu one!

Oh first salaries! Good ‘ol times. 

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