𝓛𝓲𝓶𝓲𝓽𝓼

My first day at the Greg School of Entrepreneurship isn’t that bad; everyone here is so nice, beyond my expectations. At first, I thought it would be hard to blend in, but I was wrong.

Within the walls of the Greg school are various departments, and for the purpose of simple identification, each department's students wear a distinct color of uniform. The fashion designing department, for instance, dresses in red, the event planning department in royal blue, the cosmetology department in purple and the catering department, which happens to be the department I choose to enroll in, dresses in yellow, which is not my favorite hue.
 

Locating my department isn’t that difficult because of the color diversity. I walk past the reception and administrative areas, walking down the interlog pathway that leads to a tall building with a big sign board on top of it and a tall yellow flag hanging on the side, signifying the catering department.
 

Seeing other students wearing the same color as me, I follow them up the stairs into a very large hall, which I guess would be an entrepreneurship lab. Its interior is painted white and has wide, brown formica tables arranged in three rows, from the entrance all the way to the back. On each table, a student's name and number are written boldly on a wooden plaque.

 
The hall has a lot of windows that are opened, letting in enough light to brighten it up. Light bulbs are installed on the ceiling, directly above each table, but none need to be on at the moment. Especially with the sunny rays invading the massive space.

 
Like everyone else, I walk in and trace my name to the third table in the middle row.

 
On the right-hand side of my table, there are two gas rings, a stopwatch close to the gas rings, and a white and yellow apron with the number 008 inscribed on it. Therefore, this enormous room may be referred to as a kitchen lab or simply a kitchen.

 
"Student, please stand behind your table." A beautiful young lady announces in her clear, silvery voice before climbing what looks like a stage set before us and standing in front of an empty high table, which I immediately assume is a table set for our instructors when they arrive.
 

Holding up the microphone in front of her, she says, "You are welcome to Greg’s catering department. My name is Adeyemi Rotimi Smith; I’m a nutritionist by profession and also the head of the catering department." She introduces herself further.
 

"I bet she’s not up to thirty. Wow, she looks so young and successful." I smile at my thoughts, lost in admiration. "A nutritionist, huh? I wonder what they do."
 

Aside from knowing the basic professions like doctors, lawyers, accountants, and engineers, most of the wide spectrum of unique professions are alien to me. I have always hoped to be an accountant, back in my days in the village. I was a bright child at school who admired smart-looking ladies in suits from the big city. But all those dreams died the moment I subscribed to foolish love and promises. My father was reluctant to support my education during my pregnancy, and after I delivered my child, my priorities changed and school wasn't so important anymore.
 

"Our job is to guide you, teach you, and bring out your hidden potential. Each practical you do earns you points; the more points you have, the more chance you get to work at Greg’s resort in California!" She exclaims joyfully.
 

"Wait, what!" I almost could hear myself say, "This can change my life." The benefits of traveling to California strike me like lightning. It wasn't even in the brochure. I'm so happy I took this opportunity.
 

I gleefully listen to the beautiful Lady.

"Of course, only three of you have a chance of earning that privilege, so give in your best and pay special attention to your instructors. If you have any questions or want to see me for any guidelines, my office is upstairs and open to entertain those questions." She makes a tiny smile appear across her stunning oval face. She has subtle makeup on, and the pepper-red lipstick on her lips complements the ornate red buttons on the right waistline of the cream office gown she is wearing.

She goes on. "This hall you are standing in will be for practical purposes only. Your lecture will be carried out in the other room," she says, pointing to a door at the far end of the hall. "Thank you," she concludes, dropping the MIC on the table before turning to leave.
 

No real lecture is happening today, according to the timetable. Our purpose in coming is to get acquainted with ourselves, our instructor, and to collect our identification card.
 

The chattering sound fills the hall as we socialize. Leaving the house and mixing with these new people has given me a sense of happiness and purpose. Among all this, listening to Miss Adeyemi has ignited a will in me to take up a new challenge, which is exactly what I need now.

 
"Hi," A tall, dark man at the table behind me says to me. His prominent square jawline gives him a handsome appearance. From the hazel orbs hidden beneath his neatly arched eyebrows, his deep-set eyes hold a warm expression. Along with his clean hairstyle, he also has a well-kept beard that extends from his ears to his chin. 

A man who knows how to take care of himself. Noticing I was staring, I quickly blink my eyes and wear a polite smile. "Hi," I reply.

 
"I’m Jude." He introduces himself with an outstretching arm.

 
"Eno," I say, removing the title. I take his hand in mine and widen my smile after noticing the ring on his finger. Wow, he's taken.
 

"Akwa-Ibom, right?" I hear him ask, shifting my attention back to his handsome face.
 

Yes," I replied, and I quickly nodded to a Lady who politely greeted me.
 

"Wow, my wife is from there—Ikot-Ekpene, to be precise." He says it ecstatically.

 
"Really! Me too. This is wonderful. Are you from there too?" I ask, now showing my interest in the conversation.

 
"No, I’m from Delta State," He tells me.

 
Jude seems like a nice guy, and as much as I want to know more about him, I have to leave soon. "Well, it is nice to meet you, Mr. Jude," I say, smiling at him in a polite manner.
 

"Me too," he replies. "It’s going to be a great six months here." I can tell he is more excited than I am to attend Greg's Not that I was never excited; I just initially saw my going here as a convenient distraction.
 

"We look forward to it," I say to him, and we laugh together.

1154 𝖜𝖔𝖗𝖉𝖘