My “Sign in” business was almost sweeping to boiling point when lecturers in my university decided to implement new policies to curb absenteeism.
I had my new year’s resolutions to make money signing in for people who skipped classes. This idea was invented and brainstormed at Embulbul. If you do not know Embulbul, it is a certain place along your way to Ngong. If you want to associate with the rich kids, you better say it is just in the outskirts of Karen.
At the inception of the idea I felt like I was more of a genius than Thomas Edison, Archimedes and Mark Zuckenberg combined. I made a business plan and projected all the profits to buying a Gucci belt, Timberlands and new Sweatpants.
However, my business faced challenges just the first week of launching. I had targeted Thiong’o from Rongai, Tito from Donholm, Kavengi from Imara Daima and Sisco from Rongai.
First, I was charging twenty shillings for a day. The charges would go up to a hundred if you missed the whole class, while ten shillings was paid by people who came late, but still had to sign in to the register.
A huge portion of problems attacked my biz which required immediate disaster management. I quickly went online to look for contacts of all media houses to call them for a press conference. The only legit business in campus was swaying its behinds through the thin air of conflicts between the school administration and my customers.
To put you on the same page. My potential customers started misbehaving. Not because they liked it or I was not offering affordable services and pocket friendly packages. It was because the lecturers started behaving like primary school teachers.
Lecturers are too strict for “sign in” businesses
In fact, they would stand in front of the huge lecture halls, and start calling names as you walk out. Such formidable activities made some of us miss other classes simply because, the exercise was like half of a three-hour lecture.
It was decided that there would be no allowance to sign in for others. There would be serious consequences including washing all the university corridors, carrying lecturer’s bags. As if that was enough, one would secure a long distance relationship with a local prison where he/she would do community service for six months without pay.
As I was still mourning this tough policies, two of my most loyal customers transferred.
I thought of complaining about this but knew, just like a slay queen, it will attract unnecessary vocabulary in my campus life. So as the matter was still under consideration, I decided to open “sign in” branches to other classes. I would confirm who will miss the said sessions then enter the class like a book warm, sign in for them and walk out. Business was picking on very well till I was told I was not going to sit for my final exams. Apparently, I was reported to be signing in for others. Now they will be sitting for their exams while I risk a two academic years’ suspension.
Moral of the story: however much you think you are helping people, always think about the outcome. You will be left alone in problems when things go south.