Lola's Feet

Ah.

People can advise.

The moment Lola lost her job; everybody suddenly became a career consultant.

"Have you been praying about it?"

"It may be God telling you to start your own business."

"My friend's sister did one online course and now she is making six figures."

"You should move to Texas."

"No, don't move. Stay where you are."

"You should go into healthcare."

"Tech is where the money is now."

Somebody even suggested real estate because, as every Nigerian in America knows, once you lose your job, three professions immediately begin to pursue you: nursing, IT and real estate.

Nobody even asked whether Lola liked blood, computers or houses.

A year earlier, Lola had been comfortably settled in corporate America.

Not managing. Settled.

She loved her career. She earned a good salary, had good benefits, carried a respectable handbag and enjoyed small-small enjoyment without checking her account balance every thirty minutes.

She even liked her colleagues, which was no small achievement. She knew who drank decaf, who disappeared whenever there was work to be done, who replied to emails with unnecessary "Thanks!" and who could turn a five-minute update into a forty-five-minute presentation complete with seventeen PowerPoint slides.

Lola had plans.

Promotion next year.

Maybe a better apartment.

A proper holiday somewhere she could post pictures with captions like, "Rest is productive too."

Then one Tuesday morning, her manager sent her a message.

"Hi Lola, do you have a few minutes to chat?"

Ah.

Corporate America's version of "We need to talk."

When she joined the video call, HR was already there. That was when Lola knew whatever was about to happen did not require prayer points. It required blood pressure medication.

"Due to restructuring…"

That was all she heard.

Restructuring. Alignment. Business needs. Organizational changes.

All those big grammar companies use when they are about to remove your livelihood.

By lunchtime, Lola had gone from employee to "former employee."

Now she sat on her sofa watching daytime television and eating ice cream straight from the tub.

At first, she told herself she was taking a short break.

The short break became two weeks. Two weeks became one month. Soon Lola knew the daytime television presenters like family.

Still, she applied for jobs.

Applications went out. Rejections came back.

"After careful consideration…"

"We were impressed with your background…"

"Unfortunately…"

That word began to irritate her.

One company brought her back for five interviews.

Five.

By the fifth interview, Lola knew the hiring manager's hobbies, the company's five-year strategy and possibly where they were having their Christmas party.

Then they hired someone internally.

That one pained Lola.

She closed her laptop and stared at the wall.

"So, all of you already had somebody inside, yet you were using me to practice interview?"

After three months of pity parties, rejection emails and unsolicited career counselling, Lola started walking every evening just to clear her head.

One afternoon in Central Park, she noticed a woman rushing past in bright red stilettos. Then another in battered trainers. Someone in elegant flats. White sneakers. Kitten heels. Boots. Sandals. Shoes everywhere.

For reasons even Lola could not explain, she began counting them.

Ten.

Twenty.

Thirty.

Then something clicked.

Every woman seemed to say something through her shoes.

The woman in trainers looked ready to conquer the world.

The woman in stilettos looked as if the world had already been conquered and was waiting for instructions.

One lady's shoes looked painfully expensive.

Another woman carried her heels in one hand and walked barefoot.

Lola laughed.

Now that was honesty.

By the time she returned home, an idea had followed her back.

She opened her laptop.

Not LinkedIn this time.

She began researching women's footwear, buying habits, sizing frustrations, comfort, fashion trends and online retail.

Her corporate brain woke up.

Market research. Customer profiles. Brand positioning. Pricing. Digital strategy. Merchandising.

The same skills she had assumed belonged only inside somebody else's company suddenly became tools for building something of her own.

Six months later, Lola's Feet was launched, an online shoe store built around the idea that shoes were more than something women wore.

They carried personality.

Confidence.

Mood.

Identity.

Some days the orders came in steadily. Other days Lola refreshed her sales dashboard so often she nearly hypnotized herself.

Business was not easy.

But it was hers.

A year after losing the job she thought defined her future, Lola had finally found her feet.

Literally.

Looking back, she realized redundancy had not ended her story. It had interrupted it.

And sometimes, an interruption is where another chapter begins.

So, if you have recently lost a job, mourn it if you need to. Rest. Cry. Eat the ice cream.

But do not build a house inside the disappointment.

Look again at what you know. Look at the skills you already carry. Look at the problems around you. Look at the ideas you keep dismissing because they do not resemble the career you planned.

Lola thought she needed another company to give her a chance.

What she really needed was the courage to give herself one.

You were never meant to shrink. You were made to flourish.