One thing about Lagos? It can humble you today and uplift you tomorrow—with the same energy.
After getting robbed, I had restarted my phone repair hustle with pure survival mode. I wasn’t smiling, I wasn’t playing. Every ₦500 mattered. I was chasing referrals like they were oxygen.
I thought I had seen all kinds of customers—angry ones, rude ones, broke ones, and the occasional kind one.
Until one random Tuesday, a very foreign-looking man walked into my corner.
He came in with sunglasses, a backpack, and an accent I couldn’t place. American? Ghanaian? Jamaican?
“Hey boss, I was directed to you… you fix phones, yeah?”
I nodded, trying not to sound too razz. “Yes, sir.”
He brought out an iPhone 11. “It fell in water. Won’t come on. Can you help?”
That moment, my heart skipped. iPhone wet board work was not child’s play. But I also knew how to dry-clean boards and reflow chips with a little help from my borrowed heat gun.
“Let me take a look,” I said.
He handed it over—no attitude, no rushing. Just calm.
As I worked on the phone, we began to talk. His name was Marcus. Half-Nigerian, half-American. He had come home for the burial of his grandmother.
He had been living in Atlanta. Used to do phone flipping and trading in the US. He even mentioned he used to fix phones too, back in the day.
That’s when the bond clicked.
“Bro,” he said, “this your setup small but mad efficient. You’re really good.”
I smiled shyly. Nobody ever said that before.
After 2 hours of deep cleaning, drying, and circuit tracing, the iPhone came on.
Boom.
I don’t know who screamed louder—him or me.
He jumped up, like I had just saved his life. “Damn, you’re better than most guys back home!”
Then he asked, “How much do I owe you?”
Normally, I’d say ₦7,000.
But before I could open my mouth, the guy brought out $100 and handed it over.
“No, no—this is too much,” I stammered.
He smiled. “You saved my device, bro. In the US, I’d have paid $300 easily.”
I stood there, frozen. That was more than a lot at the current exchange rate.
He waved and said, “By the way, I have other gadgets I’ll bring. Plus, I’ll link you with my cousin in Lekki. She spoils phones like she’s paid for it.”
That $100 note wasn’t just money. It was validation. It taught me:
- The world respects competence, not just branding.
- Where you work doesn’t matter as much as how you work.
- Foreigners don’t always underrate you. Sometimes, it’s Nigerians who do.
- One breakthrough can rewrite two months of struggle.
After that, I created a small Instagram page. Posted my work. Took better pictures. Even borrowed a friend’s ring light for clearer repair videos.
Marcus kept his word. He sent two more customers my way—and one of them came with a MacBook.
Alhamdulilahi