“Tell me about yourself.”

I stared at my phone for almost two minutes.

Tell you about myself? In this economy?

I deleted the first answer. Too much information.

I typed, “I’m a simple guy. I love peace, good conversations and growth.”

She replied almost immediately.

“Nice. What do you do?”

Ah.

The interview don start.

“I’m a student.”

“What level?”

“300.”

“Okay. What are your plans after school?”

I sat upright. I realized this was no longer a talking stage. This has become an interview.

“I want to build something for myself.”

“What exactly?”

“Still figuring it out.”

“Hmm.”

That “hmm” carried the weight of a rejection letter.

I quickly changed the subject.

“So, what do you like doing?”

“I like travelling.”

My heart skipped.

Travelling?

Where to?

“Nice. Where have you travelled to?”

“Dubai, Ghana, South Africa, UK.”

I looked at my ceiling.

My entire travelling history was from my room to the faculty, faculty to Awesome (a restaurant in my school), Awesome back to my room.

I replied, “Wow. That’s nice.”

Then she asked, “What about you?”

I wanted to say, “I have travelled emotionally.”

Instead, I said, “I’ve been around Nigeria.”

She asked, “Which places?”

I started calculating which places I could mention without lying.

“Ibadan, Ogun state, Ekiti."

She said, “Nice.”

Nice?

At that point, I knew I was losing.

Then came the question I had been praying would never arrive.

“What do you have?”

I stared at the message.

What do I have?

I had 2,300 naira in my account and maybe 3000 in my TwoCents account (believe it at your own risk).

One shirt that still looked decent after ironing.

A cracked phone.

And enough dreams to fill an entire stadium.

I typed, “I have ambition.”

She replied, “I mean materially.”

Omo!

The talking stage had officially become a poor man interview.

I wanted to explain that sometimes poverty makes you look less valuable than you actually are. That some people are still building, still struggling, still trying to turn a small beginning into something meaningful.

But I didn't.

I simply typed, “Not much yet.”

She replied, “Oh. Okay.”

That “yet” suddenly felt like the most expensive word I had ever typed.

A few minutes later, she stopped replying.

I put my phone down and laughed.

Not because it was funny.

Because what else could I do?

Maybe she wasn't wrong. Maybe she wanted someone who was already established. Maybe I wasn't ready for what she wanted.

But as I stared at the ceiling, I realised something.

A talking stage shouldn't feel like an interview for a position I cannot afford to qualify for.

Sometimes, two people genuinely like each other, but one person is still building the life the other person is already looking for.

And sometimes, being broke doesn't mean you have nothing to offer. It just means your best things aren't visible yet.

So, if someone asks me tomorrow, “What do you have?” I'll answer differently.

“I have little right now. But I have plans, purpose, character, and the willingness to work.

If that's not enough for you, I understand.

But please don't mistake my current season for my final destination.” Because honestly…

Talking stage nah poor man interview. And for this, my CV was rejected.