Skip to main content

THE CIVIL SERVICE: A DREAM JOB OR NOT?



 THE CIVIL SERVICE: A DREAM JOB OR NOT?


The Civil service is not my dream job. It is not the kind of place I see myself working because if you look at it I see it as a place with a lot of redundancy; people just sit down doing nothing. It has never been my dream job but “dem say condition dey make crayfish bend.” I am not unemployed but it seems like I am...

Generally there are civil servants who are doing well in their place of work. They tend to be very busy especially those working in federal agencies, like the FIRS, the Central Bank, NDIC, NIMISA and so on. They operate more like a private sector so there’s serious competition in those places so you have to be at your best; your A game. But in the mainstream of the civil service; both the federal and state, there is redundancy. People just go to the office, sit without doing anything and at the end of the month they take home peanuts. This is why you see many civil servants leaving their offices to do other menial jobs just to keep the family together because if you look at their take home pay, it’s a pity to say that sometimes it doesn’t even take them home. It’s a terrible experience. And with the present dispensation of politicians that we have, it’s really terrible. You see one man coming in as a governor and he wants everything and everyone to dance to his own tune. There are laid down principles, guides for the civil service but you find out that some of these so called politicians, when they become governors they would want to do everything just to make sure that they siphon government money. 

For the past ten years in Bayelsa State and presently, nobody that has retired has been paid their gratuity but in those days, like when I got into the Civil Service and I was looking out to move out from it, people were telling me to stay because it was pensionable. By the time you retire you would be paid your pension and your gratuity. Most people were looking forward to that gratuity to use to build houses because then a civil servant was not meant to have a house. That was the kind of culture they had so most people looked forward to their retirement so they could use their gratuity to get a place for themselves. Today we see a Civil Service that even at the end of your retirement you still can’t have your gratuity. Over ten years now I’ve not been paid. And another funny thing about it is that in the service you find out that people are just there to frustrate one’s effort. If they find out that you are doing the right thing, they would want to do everything possible to just thwart your efforts and I think it is not just here in Bayelsa but also in other areas.

One of my cousins once told me about his dad’s experience when Alamieyeseigha was a governor. His dad was one of the directors in the ministry - then it was Ministry of Lands and Housing and contracts were awarded to contractors to build quarters for civil servants. Normally when these contracts are given out it comes with specifications of what is wanted; the kinds of material to buy and all that. There was a standard and he was the one supervising those contractors. He was the one to sign on their papers for their payments to be released. So he goes to sites to see if these contractors comply with the rules. One of the times he went out he discovered that a contractor was using inferior materials so he said that if the contractor did not change the materials he won’t get his payment. The contractor tried to plead with him, even bribed him but he told the contractor that it was not about the money but about doing the right thing as it would be the only criterion for him to be cleared. The contractor went behind and met with the permanent secretary, gave him money and the permanent secretary went ahead to approve the payment of the contractor. So the man went to confront the permanent secretary for supporting the actions of the contractor who had failed to do the right thing . Because of that singular act of questioning his boss about doing the right thing, he was not promoted for nine years. So tell me, how can one derive joy from doing such job?

I was not promoted for about seven years for no good reason because somebody would just want to twist the civil service rule to suit his own wants. The present dispensation in Bayelsa state is that people who are due for promotion have not been promoted. The ones that were eventually promoted have been given promotion without implementation of their new salaries and some of them have been like that for the past four to five years: promotion without financial benefits.

My dream job would be something that would task me, challenge me, to make me learn. Here for a whole week I might not have anything to do and as for my office, hmm...it is not a sight to behold, renovation is not part of the budget of the state. The present government has worsened the problem. The current governor has destroyed the administrative process because he wants all contracts to come under him. He must be the only one to approve any amount of project be it a small amount or not. Thus there’s no longer file movement. Even some of the admin officers don’t know what they are doing in their offices anymore. Files are just flying from the top to the top; nothing is coming down again. This is why the complaints about ghost workers are on the increase day by day. How do you expect people to come to work when they have nothing to do there and at the end of the month they are not sure of their salaries? So as you can see, it’s really terrible.
A Shared Experience…. Don’t forget to be honest!

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

MAKEOVER

  When she realized her hair was gone, the barber had increased the volume of his radio and India Arie’s ‘I am not my hair’ filled the room. ‘If I can manage the situation like a professional, my construction contract with her father will hold tomorrow,’ I thought. I breathe in and out, a logic that never works for me, but I do it anyway. I rehearse my words, changing each sound to a softer version of the previous one - aligning my looks to the words so that my eyes become half closed and there is a faint smile on my face. I wait for the explosion. All the while, the barber is busy touching what is left on her head with his clipper. He says it is the final addition and calls it the moon look. He fumbles with the chair, turning Stella from left to right like a child’s play. The large mirror in front of us escalates the mishap and the fumes on my girlfriend’s face seem to be burning the white walls. It was meant to be a makeover since her 25 th birthday was the next day. Now it...

WHEN IT RAINS IT POURS

In those days, when it rained we would stay by the window and watch how the trees danced to the beats of the wind, the singing of raindrops and thunder. The lighter the music, the closer our legs would get to the door post, quietly watching the eyes of our mother; and waiting for an approval. When she wiggled her legs, it was a negative signal. But when she praised the beautiful works of God in the rainy moment, it was a positive sign. Note, there was no going outside when it rained in the night. That was why Joseph composed the song: Rain visit us when the sun is not old Rain sing for us when the moon is not young So that mother will open the door for us to play with you So that papa will come home dry and happy. Rain visit us as we sing to you. Rain oh rain oh rain. That particular day, the rain was deaf to our singing, or calling and yelling. We became frustrated because the sun was kissing the lines of the sea, workers were returning home while livestock owners were gathering their...

WHEN WE ARE OLD

  I heard them laughing, pointing at different buildings at each bus stop. Some were tall, old, and short buildings but they had something in common. They were whitewashed. The daughter talked more than her mother. She even laughed out loud sometimes as if they were the only passengers onboard. They occupied the first two seats on the deck of the bus and could see the clouds moving slowly even better than the driver. The daughter pointed to a small house and said to her mother:  “Ma, do you remember Auntie Debbie? She used to live in a tiny house just like that. Ha-ha! It was too small to even accommodate our cat when I was 7, remember?” “Yes, I remember darling. But you’re all grown up, tired of kitty. She is all mine now.” They both smiled and then the daughter mumbled something, and it turned into a wild laugh, as if something went awry in their heads. My mother will not laugh with me like this. Never! I thought. In fact, I dared not laugh at anyone’s house - big or small. ...