My Oga at Work Turned My Promotion Into a Price I Had to Pay. I Paid It for Two Years.

This was back in 2019. I was 27, working as a sales rep at a big distribution company in Aba. I had been there three years, and I was good at my job. My numbers were always among the top three. I was the one who knew all the customers by name, the one who could calm an angry client before the manager even stepped in.

Then the company restructured. A new branch manager came in, a man in his early fifties. From the first week, he started calling me into his office for "strategy meetings." At first it was normal work talk. Then he started touching my hand when he passed me documents. Then he would stand too close and tell me I was the only one who understood him.

One Friday evening, he called me in after everyone had left. He said there was a promotion coming, a supervisor role. He said he could make it happen for me. Then he said, "You know what I want. Just be nice to me." I stood there, my heart pounding. I had a mother in the village who depended on my salary. My younger brother was in his final year at UNN. I could not afford to lose this job.

I did not say yes. I did not say no. I just mumbled something and left. But the next week, he started giving me impossible targets. He would assign me to the worst routes, the ones with no sales. He stopped approving my expense claims. My numbers dropped. My colleagues started looking at me like I had suddenly become lazy.

After three months, I went to his office and closed the door. I told him I was ready. He smiled and said, "I knew you would come around." That was the beginning of two years of hell. I got the promotion, but I paid for it in ways I cannot even explain. Every time he called, I felt like I was selling a piece of myself. I could not look at my own reflection in the mirror.

I finally left that job last year. I did not report him. I was too ashamed. But I want to tell anyone going through this: do not wait. Report it. Keep evidence. Talk to someone. The shame is not yours to carry. I carried it for two years, and it nearly broke me. God forgive me, but I am still healing.