She flagged down a motorcycle as she looked at her wristwatch. What had she been doing at home? She sighed. She was already late but that didn't stop her from tugging the rider on the shoulder when he started over-speeding. The driver didn't know what to say, befuddled.

She just told him a few minutes ago she needed to arrive in time for the interview and he should do anything possible to be there before time choked her. There was nothing you could do for people to be judged better, the rider might have thought.

When she arrived at the venue, many others had come for the job, and her eyes demonstrated the surprise. She never imagined the number. They were sitting in the anteroom waiting for the human resource manager. She went to join them. There was only one empty chair left and it just seemed the seat had been waiting to receive her.

A young man sat beside her. She could guess his age. He was the youngest among the job seekers. But his confidence and assertiveness threw her off balance. She had hardly breathed a few minutes after sitting down when he struck up a conversation.

He first told her how she looked pretty and why every man would like to meet her. He had started with a bland line, Emelda thought, as she had heard that a million times in many ways. She was ready to listen, anyway.

"But I am not a celebrity," she said after acknowledging his compliment. "I can say a good number of men long to meet celebrities whom they are crushing on"

"Not only celebrities are the centre of attraction, you know," he said.

"Oh, thank you," Emelda didn't blush and she hoped he knew that. She was calmer now as she noticed no one was concerned about their conversation. Each person seemed to be battling with some thought. And too busy to notice them.

"So tell me, how did you get here? I mean, you are still young," Emelda said.

'My mates are still in university, your thoughts?" his voice was thick and mean.

"It is obvious," she said it so surely that he wondered.

"Oh. Come on. I am not that young"

"Proper introduction, please," Emelda said.

He introduced himself as Obinna, and went on to tell her he had entered university to study Mass Communication when he was very young.

"Very young is relative" Emelda interrupted.

"When I was eighteen," he said and then smiled. He had caught himself very serious, almost frowning as those who didn't get the job they had applied for. Looking at Emelda, she was different. Smiling now and then, and unconsciously revealing her open teeth.

Not as nervous as others seemed. Sure of herself and hopeful of a favourable outcome. But he didn't like the way she asked too many questions, though. She had begun to dominate the conversation and he could sense some superiority in her manners.

"I was considered a genius in childhood as I did some crazy mathematical calculations that some adults couldn't dare," he said.

Emelda didn't see any sign of pride when he mentioned he was a genius but she was amazed how he 'transcended' from Mathematics to Mass Communication or from Science to Arts. "And my parents supported me till date so that I could express my genius. I am grateful"

"That is wonderful. You look like it" Emelda took a closer look at him but in such an awkward way. He was unusually large but with a baby face.

He had seen people like this before. They were brilliant. They always came first in class. But she didn't think they had this body figure. They were always slender and looked malnourished even if they were overfed, but Obinna's look contradicted her preconceived notion.

Emelda hoped to see him again after he left for the interview. If for nothing else but to learn his difference. She was tired of meeting people whose intention was to inflate their ego at any slightest conversation she gave in. But Obinna looked real, calm, but with some flecks of assertiveness.

She smiled as the interview came to an end. She performed excellently well in her judgment and from what she saw, the interviewer was interested in her. The way he was staring at her made her uncomfortable or was she merely imagining this?

Works had always flooded her desk. Today was no different. One reason she had convinced herself was that quitting the job would be a better option. But more than that, she wanted a pay increase.

Her bills had increased so she needed a bigger source of income which her boss had not been ready to look into. She had been hazy about what to do next until her boss called her to attention.

"Miss Emelda, is anything the matter?"

"Nothing, Sir"

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, Sir"

"You look worried"

"I am okay, Sir"

"All right. You are meant to represent Josephine tomorrow morning. She travelled and will be back soon. Make sure you are on air tomorrow morning"

"But Sir, I have my regular programme tomorrow, too"

"Your programme?" He took a few steps backward to get her clearly.

"Yes. 'What Is Next Singles?"

"That should be at 3: P.m."

"But I need time to prepare, Sir"

"Emelda, you heard me. Tomorrow morning, get on air and do what I asked you to do?" He said and waltzed off.

She scratched her hair in utter dejection but tried to hide it. Just some days past, she had gone to an interview without anybody's awareness. She was determined to shock her boss with her resignation letter.

She could recall, however, that the questions that kept cracking her ear at the interview weren't pedestrian. Not at all. And sometimes she was doubtful if she would get the job.

The interviewer had asked her "Tell me about a time you surpassed people's expectations" when her memories groped for an answer. She didn't see that coming, but her mind immediately went to work. Until she finally found one:

When she was new at this job, there came one day she was asked to represent a colleague in his programme titled "Singles, What Next?" but she didn't know enough about relationships. She had been employed as a News Reporter on the Radio Station and didn't have sufficient knowledge about relationships to talk about it.

She admitted she had been grappling with difficulties in her relationship let alone talking or giving counsel to people struggling in theirs. Her boss challenged her to prepare something, anything. Her boss had always been difficult and never accepted No as an option or answer. She went home that day and slept over it.

She obliged, unsure of herself. She had been finding it difficult somehow to keep a man in her life. How then could she counsel people on how to live a peaceful life as a single and how to attract the right men/women into their life? How? When she had met some monster in the past whose motive was not to love but to take advantage of her body and be gone for the next person.

She felt she was deceiving herself to accept the project she was not fit for. If she was married with good marital records, she would accept it without a fuss, but she wasn't. And her boss had told her "The audience doesn't know your marital status, Emelda. Do your research and blend it with your personal experience. That is all"

That was it, she teased. It sounded easy to her boss; he had never admitted anything was difficult and beyond her energy.

She looked at the man that had been handling the programme. He was perfect at it. He was married with two kids, living a turbulent-free married life, or so she thought. He was the only one perfect for the job, his absence was irreplaceable; he was absolutely indispensable.

How could she come in and still maintain the excitement of his audience during the programme ravaged her mind. She thought about this day and night, reading some texts recommended by him. And gradually, she was able to defeat her fears.

Out of only God knew where she got inspiration and jumped on it. After a few minutes of starting, her mind was relaxed and, in the long run, she was able to make it conversational, and groovy.

"Good afternoon, Ladies and Gentlemen. Today on this programme, Singles, What Next? is Emelda Sweet, the princess of the Airwaves"

Her introduction amazed her listeners. They projected their ears, uncertain of this new person. For some minutes, she felt she was neither communicating humor nor authority but that didn't bother her, rather, she maintained her confidence.

The occasional humour sprinkled on the programme now made it more entertaining. And at last, when her audience began to call in, she was happy to answer their questions. Some of the listeners that called in, especially the men, were just crazy about her performance, and eloquence.

They praised her bird-sounding voice and said they knew she would be as beautiful as her voice. Calls trickled in. The line was busy, and buzzing; people were trying with relentless vigor to reach her with their difficult questions. And sometimes with their mundane questions.

She endured them all, taking a calm, dispassionate view. One called in and asked if she could accept a short man to be her husband. She asked her if she liked short people. She said no. She asked her if he had other qualities she desired in a man but only deficient in height, would she accept him? She murmured something she couldn't decipher and hung on.

Another called in and expressed her bare feelings of being unloved. The lady was almost in tears; she seemed emotionally triggered that she forgot she was on air. And Emelda was never as moved as she did. She was almost carried away when she caught herself emotionally and remembered she was there to proffer a solution not merely to sympathize with them.

The caller went on to say that men hardly stopped her on the road, and hardly talked to her about relationships, love, romance, and sex. And she wasn't getting younger. She asked a question;

"How old are you?"

"Thirty-two"

"I have a few tips," Emelda said and paused for a while. "This might not sound good in your ears but you must be eager to learn…did you get that?" she hesitated before continuing.

"The way you dress matters. Umm….do you know some people dress in such a way that no man can feel anything for them? They cover all of their body like a masquerade. And no matter how much we pretend, men are first attracted by what they see. And hey, I am not telling you to expose every part of your body; only make sure there is enough open to whet their appetite"

She allowed some moments of silence to communicate her language effectively. She was raw, direct, and realistic. And for the first time, she went public with such audacity as if she was tired of some folks who were injuring their life because of their rigidity of minds, never allowing contrary opinions settle in their soul.

"Second" she raised her voice on purpose. Her stage fright had long disappeared and every time she spoke her listeners felt a quiver of excitement run through them. "The way you carry yourself matters too, Miss. Walk like a queen because you are. Boost your self-esteem. Don't give people the impression that you are lonely. Be bold. Walk majestically. And let's see what your confidence will do for you.

Men are attracted to women who can also look them in the eyes and tell them, 'I love you" Emelda heard the caller giggle when she mentioned 'I love you" and thought maybe she got it wrong, that maybe she had meant the opposite as most women had hardly expressed their affection for the man and would never be the first to tell them 'I love you

She was spending a longer time than necessary on one caller and was rushing her points. Calls queued and she was trying to accommodate as many callers as possible.

"Next on the line, angel," she said but lost the caller. Nevertheless, she went on to make the point anyway, hoping she would still get it from her radio set. "By all means be attractive. I stand corrected by the phrase "by all means" but what you don't want to be is anything less than that. Okay?" she was rushing over the programme now that some of the listeners had lost the catch.

One called in and asked her what she thought of a lady preparing to marry a man who would leave her for a foreign land after the marriage. Who would only come back occasionally to visit and make love to her and after which he would go back to his business.

She got the question perfectly and felt sympathy for all the would-be wives considering accepting such kind of marriage. But just as she was about to take them deeper on the subject, she experienced a technical problem and the programme was truncated. She could remember everything. Most men had called to praise her and she wondered if they didn't have issues in their relationship or marriage.

She took the interviewer on this fascinating, long experience until he gave her a satisfactory nod. He was impressed and as far as she could recall that was the most challenging period of her career.