Starting this week, a number of you will graduate from the highest institution in the land. You are done. Woo hoo. Done with bean weevils, course work and exams! Welcome to the next level. This is me and all those out in the working world lining up on both sides of the street and singing “You are welcome dear freendiii, you are welcome dear friendi.” We have hired a band to make us sound good. Work life is glamorous, fancy and easy. Trust me, you’ll see. But, it is not different from university.

You will still have a headmaster here. We call him the CEO. The difference is he will wear suits that fit and he will speak with a twang-one from having coffee at bourgeois places. You won’t understand how one gets an accent that way, neither do we. Let us proceed.

You will still have lecturers, called supervisors. Like lecturers, supervisors will also give you assignments and deadlines. They also won’t be happy when you say you failed to deliver because the dog ate your computer’s power cable before you saved and pressed ‘send’. No one takes that.
You will still have lecture time called “working hours”. There will be no breaks in-between. You won’t be able to go back to your Hall to catch a power-nap. It is work all day here.

You will still have to wake up early. An alarm clock that hugs you and tells you everything will be alright could help.
You will still have teachers; they do not cane but whip. You will learn about hard work when your friends who hang out with her start to get ahead. You will learn to cut corners when your friend makes it to the news for wrong things.
There will still be exams. We call them “interviews” around here. You will still need to prepare for those. Be calm, like a boda boda guy going the wrong way down a one-way street.

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