Why Vetting Household Staff is Essential to Avoid Betrayal

He was our driver. An elderly man, according to our Dad, applied for the household driver position even though he was too old for it. We never got around to learning his real name, affectionately referring to him as ‘Uncle’ instead.

Every morning, he would meticulously wash our cars, then wait patiently by the garage for us to emerge and choose which vehicle to use. Our Dad would leave first, and Uncle would drive him to work with a truly endearing dedication

After dropping off my dad, Uncle would swing back to pick us up whenever we were ready to head out. He’d then return to my dad’s workplace at 3:50 pm to drive him home.

Uncle had a fun way of addressing us – I was ‘mini-madam’, my sister Machi was ‘small-madam’, and my brother Ekene was ‘boss’. We loved these nicknames and the playful vibe they brought to our time with Uncle

Uncle was like a second parent to us, making it perfectly natural for us to chat with him freely and at ease. He would often ask us questions, even personal ones about our family, and we would respond without hesitation or reservation. To us, he was simply ‘Uncle’ – a trusted and beloved figure in our lives, deserving of our openness and affection.

We made sure to include Uncle in our family trips and vacations, and Mum would even give him a bonus on top of his monthly pay from Dad. My siblings and I would often confide in him, sharing secrets like when we’d sneak off to places we shouldn’t be. He’d drive us there, but not before warning us, “If I get fired when your parents find out, you’ll all have to pay me a monthly allowance until I find a new job.”

We all loved him and he knew.

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One afternoon, I came home to find my parents searching for something.

Dad was in a state of panic, tearing through their room and his study, exclaiming, “It’s a massive business deal, and I can’t afford to lose it! I’ve put everything I own on the line as collateral!”

My mum’s eyes were brimming with tears as she meticulously scoured through every document, wiping her eyes and peering closely at each page. I was bewildered, struggling to make sense of the chaos. My Dad’s pleas to God grew more fervent as he rummaged through books we were certain wouldn’t hold the documents he sought: “Please, God, help me! I’m ruined if I don’t find it!”

Dad started searching for the business charter when he got to his office in the morning and realized it was nowhere to be found in the stack of files he came with. He’d definitely had it when he left home, so he called Uncle back to his workplace and they thoroughly searched the car. When that didn’t work, they sped back home to continue the search,

I trooped to the room I shared with my siblings.

“This is just jazz, how can those documents just disappear into thin air? Something he put in his portfolio just this morning,” Ekene said.

“Tell me about village people right now and I would believe it,” Machi said in agreement.

I was too dazed to contribute as I could still not comprehend what was going on. We went back to our parents room and saw dad crying, mum was hugging him and telling him to calm down. She was crying too.

That sight broke me and I started crying, Ekene and Machi soon followed.

The police were stunned when we reported the missing document. “You mean to tell me a crucial paper just vanished into thin air?” they seemed to say. My dad had it when he got into the car, and now it was gone.

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Uncle was beating himself up over it, thinking he should’ve kept a closer eye on the portfolio. Maybe someone swiped it during the ride to the office, but how? Uncle was just as perplexed as the rest of us.

We were all stunned, but the reality of our situation hit us like a ton of bricks. The weight of impending homelessness and poverty was crushing. Dad was consumed by despair, openly weeping every day, lamenting his decision to put all our eggs in one basket. Mum, once full of life, was now a shadow of her former self, and our home was shrouded in a depressing gloom.

******

The day Uncle was arrested, we made a shocking discovery. He wasn’t as old as he seemed! All along, he’d been wearing a clever disguise – an organic casted, fake aged body and a manipulated voice and accent. He had us all fooled!

He was a skilled con artist, hiding behind a false name, identity, and disguise. Despite being with us for two years, we never suspected that the elderly man we knew was actually a fake. His ability to deceive was uncanny.

On that particular day, he had taken my Dad’s portfolio and skillfully removed the business charter when Dad was not watching, and hid it in a carved-out space beneath the front seat. He had worked on creating that space before that day and no one would ever think of searching for anything there.

After dropping off my Dad that day, he surreptitiously handed off the stolen documents to his gang, who quickly got to work exploiting my Dad’s identity to process the business deal. His insider was my Dad’s own secretary who had been feeding him intel on my Dad’s every move. Just as they thought they’d pulled off the perfect heist, they were busted at the airport, trying to make a break for it to lay low before striking again.

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“Let him rot in jail, I will make sure he does not come out of that jail!” Dad was shouting when we received the news.

Even though Dad didn’t get all of his money back, we were glad that we could still pay back the bank loan and receive some proceeds from the business deal.

Our home returned to normal, but every now and again, we would talk about Fehintola, our driver and con artist — the man we called Uncle — an older man who successfully faked his voice and wore an organic casted body, who did it so well for two years and almost brought us to ground zero.

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