Hanging out with Mr. Dickson and Dickdaughter.

Away from the political tension caused by handcuffs and allied bracelets, I went for a business lunch today, and while waiting for my host (we were brought up to be dead on time!), I decided to get a healthy drink and some equally healthy snacks. So, I asked for fresh watermelon (because asi na o na ewete oku) and pineapple juice, with my favorite snack, Olives. 

Now, when I looked at the name tag of the waiter who served me, as I always do, I saw his name was Dickson. I called him Dickson. He answered. I burst into uproarious laughter. Bemused, Dickson asked me why? My response was: "Of all the names in this world, your parents called you Dickson, and at your age you still haven't changed it? Don't you know that every man is a Dickson? So why would answer such a name that belongs to every man?"

I could see puzzles written all over his face, as he took a closer look at his name-tag. I told him not to bother about the tag because it was perfectly all right, in case he thought there was a spelling error or it was positioned upside down. I then proceeded to inform him that me too I'm Dickson. And pointing at his other colleagues, I said they too are Dicksons. 

At this point he became thoroughly confused. He then turned to his colleagues, like I did, and asked whether truly they are Dicksons. One, who first looked naive, shook his head incredulously and said No, but he wore a naughty smile. One Lawal among his colleagues said, "Nnaa you are not sharp O! Every man is a Dickson na! How that one take hard?"

At this point eh, my host, a lady, arrived. She must have arrived a few minutes before I noticed due to my serious involvement in this unserious conversation. As she looked at us, pretending to be embarrassed, she then said: "Mr. Dickson, it's not hard to figure out, ok. Y'all are Dicksons and I am Dickdaughter. Does that help?"

At this point, everybody burst into unanimous laughter. The supervisor looking at us from afar dashed down ostensibly to partake in the merrymaking, but I strolled off sharply having been abandoned by my naughty host.

On my way out, Dickson, who seemed to have woken from his initial slumber then waved me "goodbye my brother from another father, Mr. Dickson!" I couldn't stop laughing as I drive back to my day job, even if PMB and APC pay me at night as has been alleged by people who know.

You can actually choose to have a good lunch. Yes, you can with a sprinkling of humor, even if naughty. By the way, if you're a Richard, the English, even Americans, will call you Dick!

Have a good evening!

Signed: Emeka Dickson Oparah.