What was meant to be a brief errand turned into one of the most memorable conversations of my week.
It was a quiet Sunday evening. I had stopped by a popular filling station along Old Ife Road to buy fuel and make a quick payment using my ATM card. To my dismay, the transaction failed — not once, but three times — and each time, my account was debited. As frustrating as it was, I managed to keep my cool. My years as a banker had taught me how to deal with agitated customers; now I was simply living the other side of that experience.
The next morning, on my way to the office, I stopped at the bank to log a dispense error complaint and request a reversal. That was when I discovered the real issue: my ATM card was damaged. I decided to handle both complaints and card replacement in one visit.
As I waited at the customer service desk, an elderly man walked in. Though clearly aged, he moved with remarkable energy. He had come to check his account balance. I gestured to the staff to please attend to him before continuing with my own request.
The moment the teller confirmed his balance, the man burst into spontaneous praise and prayers — not for the bank or its staff, but for Governor Seyi Makinde. “God bless Governor Seyi Makinde,” he proclaimed loudly, dancing in joy. His energy was contagious, his gratitude unmistakable.
As a trained banker, I was used to keeping a low profile, especially inside banking halls. But curiosity got the better of me. A staff member, who knew where I worked, whispered to the old man that I was “omo Seyi” — someone who works closely with the governor. That single revelation changed everything.
The old man turned to me, his eyes lighting up. What followed was an impromptu testimony session. He told me that he and his family never end a prayer session without mentioning Governor Makinde. He spoke of the timely payment of his pension, his daughter and son-in-law’s salaries, and how their lives had become stable because of the governor’s policies. He spoke like someone who had been given a new lease on life.
He then dived into a passionate account of the governor’s achievements: from massive infrastructure projects to employment and empowerment programs. His voice trembled not out of weakness, but out of conviction. “Nobody who truly loves this state,” he said, “would want us to go backward. We must follow through on his succession plan.”
What struck me most was his concern for the future. “I worry,” he said quietly. “What happens when his time is up? Who will continue this legacy? We can’t afford to return to the days of unpaid salaries and neglect.”
I assured him that Governor Makinde’s vision was not just for now. I spoke to him about Omituntun 3.0 — the roadmap for sustainable development in Oyo State beyond 2027. It seemed to calm him a bit, but he wasn’t done.
As I made to leave, he held my hand firmly and said something that still rings in my ears:
“Tell your principal — he is not from this planet. He must give us someone who will uphold his standards.”
And just like that, a random stop at the bank became a heartfelt reminder of leadership’s impact — not in policies alone, but in the lives of people who once felt forgotten.
*Deji Ola is my name, i am a proud product of good governance.*
