Moving to the U.K. for a better life
I didn't expect it to be very cold in September, and I was wearing a T-shirt. It had taken me hours to find my uncle's house, and by the time I arrived at his front door, I was shocked by how cold the weather was; I was shivering. I then moved to Manchester, and that's when things went downhill for me. At that point, I was hanging out with a bad crowd, doing bad things, and living in an attic apartment. My sister came to the U.K. in the hope that she could receive better medical treatment, and I was looking after her for a year before she moved back to Nigeria.
It felt good to be working because I had nothing, I even had holes in my shoes. The bakery was warm, I felt safe there, and I could eat as much bread as I wanted. After I started making a bit of money in the bakery, I'd take the bus halfway, and walk the other half because I was able to afford it. So, I looked at my options. I had no education and I wasn't good at doing manual labor jobs. When looking in a newspaper, I saw an advertisement for a sales job with good pay. I came out of my comfort zone and decided to apply for the role. Within the first few months, I was so used to rejection that it worked in my favor because I was resilient and I kept going when clients would turn down sales.