In politics, the business of cross-pollination, is everything for some.
By Napoleon Esemudje
“Abeg just tell me what you’re going to give to me, the election is just a few weeks away.” His voice was rough with the grating tone of an angry Danfo conductor.
She was bemused by his attitude. He was so impatient, even though he was the one that had approached the campaign with the proposal. He called it a Swing Pitch. He was swinging all right. It was the value of the pitch she was struggling with.
“But you’ve been supporting our opponent before now! How is it going to look like if you suddenly start supporting my principal?” She was wary and her eyes followed his every move like a cat forced to share a play area with a dog.
“Don’t worry about that.” His wiry hand dismissed her concern with a half-hearted wave, as one would treat annoying but harmless flies. “This is my business. Look, let me tell you. See all these things I wrote and said about the one you called your opponent? I can write and say more for your principal. Far, far more!” He grinned as he watched her face, gauging the impact of his pitch.
“I don’t understand. How can you just swing from one side to another like that?”
“It’s because I’m a true professional. You know, like a professional footballer.” His grin widened. “I’m like Ronaldo. I’m the best at what I do. I don’t care whether you’re the devil or an angel. If you pay for my service, I deliver to you straight!”
“Interesting.” She muttered almost to herself. She wasn’t sure if he was serious or just trying to make her laugh. But she was not amused. “So what will you do for us exactly? What kind of value can you add to our campaign?”
“Everything! I’ll do everything and anything you want. I will even take things from your opponents; mix it here, share it there and put it somewhere else. Simple! It’s cross-pollination. Just tell me what your principal has for me and you will see what I can do for him. I won’t say more than that. You know me already. You know what I can do or say. And for your principal, I will do or say whatever it takes!”
“Hmm….” She hesitated and lowered her eyes along with her scribbling pen. He was telling the truth there. He was well known for his antics as a publicity hound. She always felt he was a toxic character and not good for the image of the campaign. But he was so vociferous as an adversary that there were some in the campaign team that were willing to bring him onside, even if just to silence him. But she wasn’t convinced he could be silenced. She took a deep breath and continued.
“The thing is we…my principal especially, has very strong principles. I don’t think he will be keen for us to sign you on.”
He nodded and smiled smugly. “I can help you there too. Just as your principal has his principles, I have my principles too.”
“You do?” Her raised eyebrows set off a ripple of furrowed lines on her forehead.
“Of course!” His eyes narrowed for a split second. Perhaps he was offended by her expression of doubt. “You can’t do what I do without principles. Maybe I did not fully explain it to you before. Listen, my principle is strictly business. If my customer gives me what I want, I give them what they want. I even give extra on top. It’s quid pro quo! Quid pro quo plus extra!”
She wanted to explain the non-quid pro quo kind of principles to him and force some values into the empty spaces inside his bigger than average head. But she knew it would be futile. He was clear enough on what really mattered to him. Maybe he would care about his reputation, so she tried again.
“Don’t you care what other people think of you?”
“Which people?”
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“Well, the…voters, the electorate and even your friends.”
“Voters?” He sneered then chuckled, his head swinging from side to side, like his business principles. “Am I not a voter? Are you not a voter? We are all voters! But if you are referring to those ones on the street, the ones that don’t know what they want, no one cares what they think. In fact, they are good for business and they make my work easier. As for my friends, leave them to me. They understand the principles of business. They also know how to separate business from friendship and from other fake things people make noise about. In fact, the only people I care about are my customers and soon to be customers. People like you and your principal.” He grinned again, pleased with his self-serving logic.
“And what about the country?” She pressed on determined to extract a conscientious sentiment out of him.
He sighed as if tired of her naivety and silly questions. “You can become my country.”
“What?” She wasn’t sure she heard him correctly.
He shrugged. “It’s what I said. Once you become my customer, you become my country.”
She nodded slowly, now convinced that he was truly incorrigible. Still, she knew better than to rile him up. “Okay, I will discuss your proposal with my team and my principal. I’ll let you know our decision within the next seventy-two hours. I hope you can ease your attack on my principal in the interim.”
He chuckled. “My dear, it doesn’t work like that. In fact, my principle will not allow me to do anything except I see a receipt with figures. But because you’re like a sister to me, I will take this thing. I’ll use it to remember this meeting. After all, it’s not a matter of life and death is it?”
Without waiting for her consent, he picked up from her notepad; her branded pen, – a fancy souvenir of the campaign, stood up and gave her a cocky parting smile. Shocked, she watched him swagger past the door without a backward glance. But in spite of her misgivings about him, she couldn’t shake the feeling that he could be right about one thing. For too many people, this is just business.
- Napoleon Esemudje, a Chevening Scholar, is a versatile poet, storyteller, playwright, essayist, banker, management and human resources aficionado