Corporate Incest

By Yona Sikazwe

 

Corporate incest!

 

There’s this couple I knew real life office Romeo and Juliet, only that their romance was powered by company fuel and sponsored by the lunch allowance.

 

What they were doing was nothing short of corporate incest! Every lunchtime, they turned into undercover agents from a low budget Zambian movie. One would “randomly” go out first, pretending to be independent and hungry, and fifteen minutes later, the other would appear, acting shocked like they’d just discovered each other in the wilderness. “Oh wow, what a coincidence!” they’d say as if they hadn’t been whispering in the corridor all morning, synchronizing watches like criminals planning a bank robbery.

 

One day, my spirit told me, “Follow these people there’s a sermon in this story.” So I followed Madam. She walked into this fancy restaurant, ordered like she owned the place, and shortly after, her secret office husband appeared looking both excited and terrified. When they saw me, you could see panic in their eyes that type of fear only found in people who know they’re about to be exposed.

 

They said, “Mr. Zwe, come join us, sir!” I tried to act humble, like “Oh no, it’s fine,” but my stomach said, “You’re already here, sit down.” Guys, that day we ate food that could pay my ZESCO bill for three months. I didn’t contribute a single coin. They were both smiling nervously, pretending to be happy I was there, while inside their souls were shouting, “Lord, why hast Thou forsaken us?” I ate slowly, majestically, making sure to enjoy every bite. I even ordered extra juice just to balance the mood.

 

When the meal was over, I did what any honest man in this economy would do I carried their leftovers home. I walked out of that restaurant with the confidence of someone who had just attended a UN meeting. The next day, when I passed their desks, both avoided eye contact. You could smell guilt mixed with regret and the faint aroma of yesterday’s leftover chicken. A few days later, Episode Two aired “Corporate Incest Reloaded.” I saw the same woman heading towards Matebeto, walking quickly like someone escaping from their calling. I followed her quietly, blending in with street vendors and pretending to inspect vegetables.

 

Not long after, her work husband appeared again sweating, nervous, and pretending to be “passing by.” I popped up behind them like bad network. The moment they saw me, both froze, their eyes saying “How is this man everywhere?” but their mouths said, “Mr. Zwe, come join us, sir!” So I joined again! This time, their smiles were tighter than the salary budget. They tried to laugh, but you could tell the laughter was borrowed. As they ate, I watched them carefully two lovers trying to chew away evidence.

 

The woman looked like she wanted to throw the whole plate at me, and the man kept adjusting his tie like it was strangling his career. Me? I was calm, eating slowly, asking for extra chili and saying, “This meat is really nice, eh? We should do this more often.”

 

From that day, I became their unwanted lunch companion like a guardian angel with an empty stomach. Wherever they went, I followed. They switched restaurants, changed times, even started eating in the office, but somehow, I would appear right on schedule like an unpaid intern of destiny. They even tried pretending to fast, but I knew that was fake repentance because their stomachs were growling louder than mine. The more they hid, the more my hunger led me to them. I didn’t follow them for gossip, no I followed them for survival. Because in this economy, true love might be rare, but free food is sacred. To this day, whenever I see them, they act formal, overly polite, as if I’m the manager who knows too much. And every time they plan lunch, I can feel their spirits trembling.

 

They know if they see me, it’s not coincidence it’s destiny, served hot with a side of chips. So yes, call me nosy, call me shameless, but as long as corporate love exists in that office, I’ll be there not as a witness, but as a beneficiary. Because one man’s secret affair is another man’s free buffet.

 

Zwe ma paragraphs Zwe, ma corporate incest.