This One's For You, Boo

If Aramide resigned tomorrow, here's what I'd miss most, in order: Her smile. Her calming presence. Our spontaneous plans after work. Her kindness.

I actually sat and made that list once, half-joking, the way you do when someone asks you a hypothetical question and you answer it a little too honestly.

But then I looked at what I'd written ‘our spontaneous plans after work’ and I had to stop and laugh at myself. Because, wait. Isn't that literally how this whole thing started?

Let me back up.

October 2024. I'm a newbie at the Switch. My first real assignment was Technovation 3.0 Demo-Day, and part of my job was raising procurement requests for the gift items for the winners, the judges, and every participating team. Which meant I had to go through Supply Chain.

Which meant I met you.

I didn't know yet that you were about to become one of my favourite people. I just knew that something that should have felt overwhelming for a brand-new hire suddenly didn't, because you walked me through the entire process with so much patience I remember thinking, okay, this one is different. You didn't have to be that kind to me. You chose to.

I had no idea that was the start of anything. I thought it was just a decent work interaction. Little did I know.

Here's the part everyone at the Switch already knows, but I'm telling it properly anyway, because it deserves that.

February 2025. We're on the staff bus, talking about nothing important, and somehow it comes up that we both love the Greek yoghurt from Sofresh. So, one evening, we go looking for it. It's sold out everywhere, like the whole of Lagos decided to buy yoghurt that exact week.

We went home with nothing that night.

The next day, I had my favourite Greek yoghurt delivered to your house.

I wasn't trying to make a statement. I just thought, she wanted this, and I can get it to her, so why wouldn't I? But you told me later you were stunned. You said you sat there thinking, who is this thoughtful new girl on the block?

To this day, if anyone at work says, "let's go to Sofresh," everyone else hears Salads and Yoghurt. We hear an origin story.

I want to tell you about the version of you nobody else sees.

People at work think you're always smiling because life has been easy for you, like you're a Nepo baby who's never had a hard season. That's not it, and it's not even close. I've watched you carry pressure, disappointment, entire difficult stretches, and still choose kindness regardless. Every time. That smile isn't luck. It's a decision you keep making, over and over, even when nobody's watching to see if you'll make it.

I've asked myself, more than once, does this girl ever get angry? And it's not that you don't feel things, it's that you carry the highs and the lows with a kind of grace I don't think you even realize is rare. I hope you never lose that. I mean that.

And underneath the composure is somebody who genuinely, unapologetically believes work is work, but enjoyment is always waiting on the other side. You'll randomly text "Mosun, let's go get burgers," and I'm already typing "yes" before I've finished reading it. Same with the spa. I say the word "spa" and you reply, "yes, boo, we shall" like it was never a question.

Our funniest memories are the ones where, technically, nothing happened.

We both leave the office every Friday saying, "I'm going straight home today." Every single time, that's a lie. Somehow, we end up somewhere eating, or at Hans and Renee getting ice cream, talking about everything and nothing for hours we didn't plan to spend.

You probably don't even remember the hospital visit as a big deal. To you, it was just showing up for a friend. But I remember Lagos traffic that evening, and your schedule that week, and you still came. In one of my most vulnerable moments, you reminded me I wasn't alone, and that meant more to me than I've ever properly said out loud until now.

The prayers. You never once asked me if I needed prayer. You just prayed. Quietly, without announcing it, without making it about you. Some of those prayers were lifesavers, and I probably didn't even know at the time that I needed them. Thank you for covering me like that.

Here's something I don't think I've told you, either.

Watching you finish your MBA last year on top of a schedule that was already difficult, and you constantly chasing one certification or another genuinely changed something in me.

In my head I'm just thinking, this girl no dey tire? And I mean that with total awe, not exhaustion on your behalf.

What you probably don't know is that watching your discipline pushed me to enrol for my own MBA abroad last October.

One of the best decisions I've ever made. Even now, mid-program and tired in a way I didn't know I could be tired, I'm already thinking about the next certification. You did that. Your consistency rubbed off on me before I even noticed it happening. Thank you for reminding me that growth doesn't stop just because life gets full.

So, here's the truth I've never said properly, even though I've felt it for a while now.

I don't just see you as my work bestie. I wish you were one of my actual sisters. Family isn't always by blood, and you've reminded me of that more times than I can count.

I’m forever grateful for you.

Happy International Friendship Day, boo. This one's for you.

With love,

Mosun