Family. I swear, man.
You know, I’m beginning to hate making those obligated phone calls to my dad Roy every week or so. I called him the other day and he keeps grilling me about the classes I’m taking and how my credits I have until I can graduate. How the hell would I know? I’m lying about the whole thing! Operation LFS (Lie For Success) was designed to keep my parents off my back by telling them I’m going to college to get my Masters degree, instead of telling them that I’m buying properties and retiring from paycheck work in a little over two years. But I must admit that even I am getting tired of lying. I’m just not a good liar. One has to be smart with a good memory and quick thinking to be a good liar, and I’m clearly none of those things. So I now have to write things down about my fake life as a college student and keep track of how many credits I’m taking and which classes are pre-requisites and all that. I must refer to it before every call and, as I was taking down notes, I started wondering if I really need to lie. I mean, would it really be so bad to let my entire family in on my ambitious plans?
If I told everyone about my plans, my parents would most likely tell my family back home, which would most likely lead to a shitload of calls asking for money. My dad would probably hassle me about visiting Nigeria more so that I could take care of his properties when he passes, since I’m “in the business”. So I'll have to deal with the squabbling of who deserves what and all that mess. Then my mom Rita would probably buy more properties here because, if I can build an empire by myself, then surely I’ll be able to handle her properties for free, right? She’ll tell her side of the family and then THEY’LL start calling me asking for money. Bear in mind, it’s not money for important things like an education or something that’s actually needed. Ola, for example, just got a call from an uncle in Nigeria. The uncle wanted to know if he could donate $1500 for his retirement party. The uncle is asking six American relatives, hoping for $9000 to throw an elaborate retirement party for himself and his friends. Ola cursed him out and hung up the phone. I looked at him and thought to myself, “That could be me.”
My parents would also try and muscle their way into my business, asking questions about this and that. They'll start asking for favors, like one of their friends’ kids needs a job and would want to know if I have anything available. They wanna feel big in their circle of friends knowing they have a son who's an employer rather than an employee. They’ll know that I have free time by making my own schedule, so they’ll expect me to come visit them much more than the once a year that I was planning on. It would… it would just be a nightmare. Mo’ money, mo’ problems. Biggie was right. Everything that I built up would be used for other people who don’t know me to rape the benefits from (notice I said “rape”, not “reap”). No, I can’t tell them. What kills me is that I’ll probably have to keep the lie going even after they die, and they’ll never know what I’ve done. I won’t lie: there is a certain sense of satisfaction when a child shows his parents that he’s not a complete imbecile. I would like for them to know that their trek from Nigeria to America allowed me to build a real estate empire that will have me make more money than they’ve made their entire lives. But to tell them would be a disaster, and I’m done making disastrous choices.
There’s no doubt that I like to see my family succeed. I would love it if everyone with my last name is massively successful, even my sister Rana. It’s that familial sense of pride that my brother Rex talked about when we first started our competition. But when I do succeed, I need to keep my business growing and I can’t have a bunch of relatives I’ve met once asking for handouts and cutting into my profits. I see all the drama Ola has to go through and I’m not putting myself through it. So I’ll continue to lie. I’ll keep my mouth shut when my dad scolds me about how I should have never left Brooklyn and how I would have been a full time teacher by now. I’ll suffer through his lectures about the benefits of being a teacher (even though he forgets that every time a state slashes the budget, the first mother fuckers out of a job are teachers). When I fake graduate, I’ll tell everyone that I landed a fake teaching job in Smalltown. During summers, I’ll let them know that I teach fake summer classes too, thereby limiting my visit time with them to a week.
I’ll do all of this to keep my empire and to keep my sanity. It’s not a matter of being selfish (although I’m sure that’s part of it). It’s mainly a matter of sticking to my principles and ensuring that whatever I build doesn’t get torn down by the greed of those who never knew what it took to make it all happen. I know, it’s a sad state of affairs when I can’t give my parents an overwhelming sense of pride seeing my business grow. Well, too fucking bad. It’s better than the alternative.
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