The man shook my hand like we signed a contract. The contract was 'exposure'

2024. I was 21, fresh out of uni, editing reels for anybody who would let me touch their phone. Then one guy from one big Lagos brand slid into my DMs. Let me call him Kunle. Kunle said he loved my work, said he wanted me on retainer, said the figure that made me sit up straight on my mattress.

"We'll do ₦250k monthly, Chi-Chi. You're exactly the energy the brand needs."

I screamed. I called my mother. I did the whole "God when" thing in my head. Three weeks of work later, I sent the invoice. Kunle replied with a voice note. "Ah, Chi-Chi, you know we're still seeding the budget. But the exposure alone, ehn? Do you know how many eyes go see your name on our page?"

Omi.

Exposure. ₦250k became a repost. My name in a caption. One shoutout on their story that expired in 24 hours. I sat on my bed and laughed, because if I didn't laugh I would have cried. I had eaten indomie for two weeks straight thinking the big money was coming.

The lesson no be sweet: collect your money upfront. Before you touch the work. No matter who claims to know who. Exposure no dey pay rent, and my landlord does not accept shoutouts. Now every client, first question is "when are you paying?" No shame in it. Shame is working for free and calling it a portfolio.