I was busy looking at a report from one of my colleagues when the office phone rang. I looked up, and my eyes met the baffled face of my colleague Nancy. We both hesitated, our eyes were screaming. You take it.
Well, to be completely honest, everyone at the office has been on edge since the top brass announced plans to reduce the workforce.
Finally, my stare convinced Nancy to pick up the phone. And her face, which looked flustered, quickly changed as she turned towards me. “The boss wants to see you,” she said with a grin on her face.
If there is something that can change one's mood faster than a quick check of the bank balance, it is a call to the corner office. I stood up and dragged myself across the office to the boss’ office.
All the while, as I braved stares from colleagues, many of whom I consider friends, my mind couldn’t help but wonder what was wrong. “Am I getting fired?” I wondered as I got near the office.
When I got to the secretary’s desk, I smiled to encourage myself and put on a brave face. But my stomach was rumbling like a volcano, and my feet could barely hold my weight. After what seemed like an eternity, the phone rang, and the secretary ushered me into the boss’ office.
I took a second, and although I am not much of a believer, I said a prayer, hoping for a divine intervention. I walked into the office, and despite all the fear, I stretched my hand to greet the boss.
“Good morning, sir,” I said as my voice trembled. He shook my hand with his usual charisma, which often made him difficult to read.
“Why are the accounting numbers not adding up?” he asked straight away. I wasn’t expecting the question. And I took a moment to think and sought clarification. “What numbers, sir?” I asked as I quickly opened the financial reports from the last month.
“I have been told more than Ksh2 million is missing,” he said as his face turned red. “Are you simply incompetent or have you stolen the money?" he asked.
I took a deep breath, checked the last two financial reports, and noticed the discrepancy. At that point, my heart was beating like the drums at an Akorino church on a Sunday. I couldn’t instantly tell where the Ksh2 million had gone.
My boss was still screaming at me. “What do you think will happen if the two million is gone?” “They will come for my head, and I will serve them yours,” he lamented.
As if by a stroke of luck, I found an email from one of our clients saying that their payments, which had been indicated as sent, had not gone through. I turned to my boss with a slightly happy face, “John, I know where the problem is.”
I showed him the email, and although we should not have counted the funds as received without confirmation, it was a relief for me. John, who at this point was now able to breathe normally, asked me to wait.
He picked up the phone and called our owner, explaining the situation. I could see the relief on his face as he calmly outlined the next steps. He then turned to me. “You know I trust you,” he affirmed.
I could hear him, but I’m not sure I believed a word from his mouth. After all, he’s the man who threatened to fire me just 10 minutes earlier. But for some reason, maybe our distant familiarity played a part, I said, “John, I bear no hard feelings. I know it’s your job.”
He turned and looked at me as if he’d had a lightbulb moment. “I’ve heard you want to buy a car?” he asked. But even before I could respond, he said, “You know you could get one before the end of the week?”
That grabbed my attention. I mean, I’ve been dreaming of getting a car for the better part of two years now. I said, “Yes, I’ve been seeking to buy a car.”
Sensing the change in mood, John told me about a new campaign from Co-operative Bank that is allowing customers to borrow up to Ksh9 million in personal loans. “A friend who works at the bank was explaining to me about their new product, Ni Ka Slip Tu. I found it really interesting,” he said, his face lighting up.
“Co-op Bank is offering loans from as low as Ksh50,000 up to Ksh9 million with a repayment period of up to 120 months,” John read aloud from part of a message from his friend.
He told me all you need is to be employed, have an original ID and a copy, and no specific minimum net salary is required. “Just get your pay slips for the last three months, and a copy of the KRA PIN and apply for the loan,” John told me.
Adding, “I’ve already begun applying for mine for some piece of land I want to get in Kamulu.” I sat there, envisioning myself driving my 2021 Nissan Juke with retrofitted tyres and a proper sound system.
“Is that all I need?” I asked, wondering about security and guarantees. He said, “Yes, it’s that simple. Imagine they process the applications in two days?”
How to access the Ka Slip Loan
Visit any Co-operative Bank branch with salary pay slips for the last three months, a completed loan application form, and a copy of the KRA PIN.
If you are employed by the Teachers Service Commission (TSC), civil servants, National Police Service, prison and Kenya Defence Forces officers, or medical officers, you have an added advantage when seeking the loan.