The Hustle HQ

Part 5: The Final Pitch The next morning, Hustle HQ looked less like a co-working space and more like a war camp. Everyone was running around—Amaka ironing the new branded apron, Zainab stuffing food samples into takeaway boxes, Femi rehearsing financials like Bible verses, and Teni reapplying her makeup for the third time. “Guys,” Chuka said nervously, “the investors are already seated.” “Then let’s give them a show,” Teni replied, adjusting her blazer like a superstar. The five of them marched into the hall together, united for once. Mr. Bello raised an eyebrow as if to say let’s see what circus you’ve brought today. The clock ticked. Five minutes. Their entire hustle came down to this. Teni stepped forward, voice steady.“Good afternoon. We are Feast Fast. We don’t just feed stomachs—we deliver culture, heritage, and the Nigerian experience to your doorstep.”<img alt="" src="/media/inline_insight_image/Screenshot_2025-10-03_10.14.54_AM.png"/>The investors leaned in. This was different. Zainab unveiled the food samples, the aroma of smoky jollof and suya drifting across the room.“Every meal tells a story,” she said. “Our app doesn’t just connect customers to food—it connects them to tradition.” Femi clicked to the new slides, crisp and clear.“With your investment, we’ll scale Feast Fast across Abuja, then nationwide. Projections show a 150% growth in the first year. But beyond numbers—this is about pride in African cuisine.” Then Amaka held up her designs: bold delivery bags shaped like jollof pots, uniforms that screamed modern Afro-cool.“Every rider becomes a walking ambassador of Nigerian flavour.” Finally, Chuka—yes, Chuka—cleared his throat.“And the app? Simple, sleek, efficient. No gimmicks, no crypto… just food, stories, and speed.” Everyone stared. For once, he didn’t say “blockchain.” The investors murmured among themselves. Just as hope bloomed, Mr. Bello leaned forward.“Impressive. But tell me—why should I trust a team as chaotic as yours? Yesterday, you nearly pitched a Ponzi scheme.” The room froze. Then Teni smiled.“Because that chaos is exactly why we’ll win. We’re not perfect, but neither is the hustle. Hustle is messy, noisy, unpredictable. But with grit, creativity, and teamwork, it creates magic. That’s who we are. That’s Feast Fast.” Silence. Then, slow clapping. Mr. Bello stood. “Against my better judgment… you’ve convinced me. You’ve got your million.” The crew exploded in cheers. Zainab nearly knocked over the jollof pot bag hugging Amaka. Femi cried into his spreadsheets. Chuka whispered to Teni, “Do you think I can now launch HustleCoin—” “Try it, and I’ll choke you with suya,” she snapped. As they left the hall, clutching their victory, one thing was clear: Hustle HQ wasn’t just a co-working space anymore. It was family—dysfunctional, hilarious, but family all the same. And this was just the beginning.

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