There’s a fast-food joint I used to pass by every day. Back then, their hiring policy was clear:
Light-skinned. Size 6. Preferably with over 10k Instagram followers.
If you were dark-skinned, had hips, or God forbid—a real appetite—forget it. You wouldn’t even get past reception.
But I passed by recently and I was shocked. Now they hire everyone. Black, light, slim, thick, double-thick—so long as you can stand for 8 hours without fainting.
And I smiled.
Because that wasn’t just about labor rights. That was a business survival story.
Reality finally hit them like a burst fryer: looks don’t fry chicken—people do.
Let me tell you something that’s quietly killing African businesses like termites behind the skirting board:
Office romance and beauty-based recruitment.
Some of our brothers are running companies like they’re casting for Miss Tourism.
You hear someone say, “We’re hiring an accountant,” and suddenly the interviews feel like a modeling competition.
All of a sudden, qualifications = nice teeth and hips that defy physics.
And I have to ask:
Are you looking for a wife or a worker?
If the strategy is to attract male customers—sure, aesthetics sell.
We’re in Africa. We love our beauty.
But be warned: you’re playing with fire in a petrol station.
Because here’s the truth—most men in business can’t handle the pressure.
The moment a pretty girl joins the company, the boss goes from CEO to Romeo.
Suddenly the boardroom language changes:
“Can you bring me tea?” (There’s a dispenser right there.)
“I need you to work late.” (Alone? On petty cash?)
“We’re traveling for business. Just the two of us.” (Ah. Does she carry the whole finance department in her purse?)
Before you know it, they’ve hired a “finance officer”…
But the only balance she knows is her makeup brush and selfie ring light.
In Shona we say:
“Mbeva yepamba igonzo.”
Loosely translated: If you see a mouse in the house, don’t be fooled—it’s still a rat.
Don’t say “it’s just a small crush.”
That’s how the infection starts.
I’ve watched businesses crumble like a sandcastle hit by a wave because the boss couldn’t zip up his ambition.
Once the affair starts, the decline begins:
Suspicious cash withdrawals.
Suppliers left hanging.
Clients calling and hearing “Babe is in a meeting.”
Invoices forgotten.
Then the real wife shows up at the office on a random Wednesday—armed with her sisters and her pastor.
By December, the business is broke.
By January, the “accountant” is pregnant.
By March, the office is closed and the guy is now selling perfumes in town, saying, “I’m rebranding.”
Let’s be real, gents:
If you want your business to survive, you need to manage your belt like you manage your budget.
Women aren’t the problem.
Lack of discipline is.
If you hire based on appearance instead of competence, don’t be surprised when your files are full of selfies and your ZIMRA returns are blank.
One day, someone told me:
“Boss, I hired a secretary. She’s very beautiful and single.”
I said,
“That’s cute. But can she TYPE?”
Hire for skill—not skin tone.
Promote for performance—not perfume.
And remember—your office is not Tinder.
Companies don’t collapse overnight.
They die slowly.
One office romance, one bad hire, one silent scandal at a time.
If we want to build timeless African businesses, we need timeless discipline.
Because no matter how hot she is—
If she can’t do the job, she’s not your blessing.
She’s your business’s funeral.
So to all my brothers running companies out there:
Zip up. Show up. Grow up.
Because if you don’t, one day we’ll pass by your offices and find they’ve been turned into a wig shop—Ironically run by your former “accountant.”
