Today was a wild day. Honestly, I still don’t fully know how to feel about it.
Everything started out so normal, and by the end of the day, I was tired, broke, grateful, and a little bit confused about how things turned out. It wasn’t the kind of bad day that breaks you. It was the kind of day that throws everything at you at once and then leaves you sitting there like, “What just happened?”
It began with what I thought would be a smooth, productive day for my gift shop. I had several orders to print, package, and ship out. I was feeling a bit excited and organized, ready to tackle the day. Then life decided to humble me.
From the moment I stepped out of the house, the day started dealing me cards I didn’t expect.
In the morning, I was on my way to town to print some cards for orders that needed to be shipped out. As I was paying the rider, I misheard one digit in the number. Just one digit. And because of that small mistake, I sent Ksh 300 to the wrong number.
The moment I saw the confirmation message, I knew something was off. I tried to stay calm and contacted Safaricom to reverse it.
Their response? “The recipient has already withdrawn the money.”
Just like that. No reversal. No hope. 300 shillings gone.
It wasn’t even the amount that hurt, it was the frustration. It was so early in the day, and here I was already taking a loss. I remember just standing there, annoyed, feeling like I’d started my day on the wrong foot. And the thing with business is, small amounts do matter. Every cent counts when you’re running things on your own.
I tried to brush it off. It’s just 300, I told myself. No big deal. But it was the beginning of what would become a series of… let’s just say “interesting” events.
I carried on with my plans, headed to print and package the orders.
Town today was different.
The energy in the CBD was tense.
There was chaos everywhere because of the death of a prominent figure in Kenya. People were panicking, traffic was worse than usual, and there was a kind of uneasy energy in the air. Shops were half-open, people were rushing, some looting and robbing was already being reported in certain areas.
I was just trying to mind my business, print my cards, send my parcels, and get home safely. But even the smallest tasks felt ten times harder than usual.
One of the parcels I was sending out ended up costing more than expected. I honestly wasn’t even in the mental space to argue or negotiate. I was juggling too many things, trying to stay aware of my surroundings, keeping up with deliveries, and moving fast because the situation in CBD wasn’t safe.
Normally, I’d just request a Bolt or rider for these errands, but even that wasn’t working out. The Bolt app was taking forever to respond, and in all the chaos, I just had to work with what I had. So yes, I overpaid. It stung a little, but I needed to move.
To make things more complicated, I’d actually sent out another order earlier, but that delivery wasn’t smooth either.
The person receiving the parcel wasn’t picking up their phone, and the rider was stuck trying to figure out what to do. I had to keep communicating back and forth, coordinating things in the middle of everything else.
It was exhausting. Mentally, physically, emotionally. You can only imagine how it feels to be doing everything at once, handling deliveries, printing, posting, thinking about your safety, and trying not to make another expensive mistake like the morning one.
Normally, I’d just take a bus back home to save on cost. But with the way town was, it didn’t feel safe. There were stories circulating about people being robbed in traffic, phones being snatched, bags disappearing.
So I made the decision to use a motorbike instead. It was more expensive, but faster and safer under the circumstances.
Honestly, at that point, I just wanted to get home in one piece with my phone, my parcels, and my peace of mind. But even that wasn’t smooth. The rider I got took long to respond and get to me. Every minute waiting felt tense. You could feel the tension in the air that something wasn’t right in town.
You’d think after all that happened earlier in the day, the universe would at least cut me some slack. Right? Wrong. But no. Apparently, the story wasn’t done writing itself.
I had two last orders to send. I remember getting to Posta Kenya in another location, away from the noisy, chaotic CBD, thinking at least I’d finalize this one last shipment in peace. The day had already tested me enough, I thought. Only for me to get there and find the place closed. Just like that. Doors shut. No staff in sight, only the security guy. The clock wasn’t even that late, but clearly, they’d decided their day was over before mine could be.
I just stood there for a few seconds, processing it in silence. Tired. Frustrated. A bit numb.
And then it hit me like a slap: my phone was gone. I searched my bag over and over. Nothing. I went through my pockets. Nothing. Then it clicked. I had accidentally packed my phone inside the parcel. My phone, my lifeline, was now speeding somewhere on a motorbike, zipped inside a gift package meant for a client.
The kind of silent panic that takes over your body in moments like that is hard to explain. This wasn’t just about a misplaced item, it was my phone. My everything. My line to clients, my money access, my contacts, my business, my lifeline. And it was on its own journey, while I stood outside a closed post office like the day’s punchline.
I had no way to contact the rider. I didn’t even know his number. My mind was racing through every possible worst-case scenario. What if he decided to disappear with it? What if the parcel didn’t get there? What if the client didn’t respond in time? What if I’d just lost my only phone, on a day that had already emptied my wallet?
And to make matters worse, since the post office was closed, I had no choice but to head back home. I had to pay extra just to get a motorbike again. That was money I honestly didn’t have to spare at that point, especially after the morning’s financial punches. I was literally running on fumes, both emotionally and financially.
That ride back home felt longer than usual. The wind hitting my face wasn’t refreshing. It was heavy. My head was replaying the day’s madness like a badly edited film.
When I finally reached home, I couldn’t even rest. I had to wait, wait for the order to reach the client just so I could get the rider’s number and beg him to bring my phone back. I had no guarantee he’d even cooperate. In the world we live in, people can easily take advantage of your desperation.
He took long. Way too long. Every minute stretched like an hour. And when he finally did, he demanded Ksh 1,500 to bring it back. 1,500! I wanted to cry. But at that point, I was too exhausted to even argue.
What choice did I have? None. So I agreed.
Eventually, he came back with the phone. And to be honest, when I held it again, I felt this strange wave of both relief and anger. Relief that it was back. Anger that I had to bleed financially just to fix something that wasn’t supposed to happen in the first place. And somewhere in between all that, I felt a tiny bit of gratitude. Because truth is, he could have chosen not to return it. He could have disappeared with it and left me stranded. But he didn’t.
The irony of it all is that this whole chaos was because of one parcel for a client. And guess what? The client delayed the payment.
I had been running up and down, spending money I hadn’t planned to spend, all for this delivery. And when the time came to settle the bill, she delayed.
I sat there, waiting, tired, and lowkey annoyed. But in the end, she did pay, and that gave me a small sense of relief. Not joy. Just relief.
In all the madness, there was one person who helped me a lot, the posta guy. He didn’t have to, but he helped me connect with the rider who eventually brought my phone back.
Of course, I had to pay him something too. Another unplanned cost. Another piece of the day gone. But honestly, his help mattered. If he hadn’t stepped in, the story might have ended differently.
As if to mock me, I remembered the Ksh 3,000 gift I’d received earlier in the day to top up for the printer I was to purchase the next week. I remember feeling happy about it, thinking I’d use it wisely.
What I didn’t realize was that this gift would be the exact amount I’d need to navigate the chaos.
Now here I was at the end of the day, staring at my balance, realizing the entire 3000 was gone. Just like that. Every shilling swallowed by chaos before the sun even set. Not spent on anything tangible.
I didn’t buy anything nice. I didn’t treat myself. I didn’t even do anything major. It just vanished into transport, overcharges, small payments, and chaos. Just scattered into thin air through one mishap after another.
I sat there feeling… numb. Like, how do you even process that? It wasn’t that I blew the money. It was like the day had been designed to drain it out of me.
But then I had this strange thought. Maybe that 3000 wasn’t for “fun” or “plans.” Maybe it was protection money.
Maybe it was there so I wouldn’t have to lose something bigger. Maybe it was God or the universe cushioning me without me realizing it. If I think about it carefully, if I hadn’t received that money, I don’t even know how I’d have made it through the day.
It’s like it was given for protection. It didn’t buy me anything luxurious. It didn’t go into savings. It just helped me get through.
And to make it more chilling, I heard stories later that some people had been robbed around the same place I had gone earlier. Phones snatched, wallets gone. And I just sat there, thinking… so maybe this was all protection wrapped in inconvenience.
Yes, I lost money, but I got my phone back. I wasn’t harmed. I made it home safely. That thought really humbled me. Because as frustrating as the day was, it could have been a completely different story.
That realization hit different. Because when you’re in the middle of stress, it’s easy to focus on the inconvenience. But looking back, it could have been so much worse.
Maybe that gift wasn’t for “enjoyment” after all. Maybe it was for cushioning. Maybe my guardian angel was working overtime today, just in a way I didn’t immediately recognize.
Because if I hadn’t taken that motorbike ride home, if I hadn’t carried that exact amount with me, if that rider hadn’t returned my phone, if the client hadn’t finally paid… I don’t even know how today would’ve ended.
It’s wild how sometimes blessings come dressed in chaos. How protection doesn’t always look pretty. Sometimes it looks like panic, extra charges, delays, wrong numbers, closed doors, and near breakdowns.
By the time I got home, I felt a mix of emotions. I didn’t know if I should cry, laugh, or just sleep. Tonight, I’m sitting here with mixed feelings, tired, a bit bruised financially, but strangely… thankful.
On one hand, I lost money. I got frustrated. I made silly mistakes. I felt stupid at times. On the other hand, I got my phone back. I didn’t get robbed. I was safe. Things could have been much worse, but they weren’t.
Because even though everything seemed to go wrong, in the end, everything I truly needed was somehow preserved. It’s a weird feeling, being grateful and frustrated at the same time. Like you want to be mad at the situation, but you also know deep down that you were protected in a strange way.
Business in the Midst of Chaos
When people talk about entrepreneurship, they often romanticize it, being your own boss, having flexibility, living the dream.
But they rarely talk about days like this.
Days when the city feels unstable, when orders pile up, when clients don’t pick up, when money disappears faster than it comes in.
Days when you have to keep your head on straight while everything around you is shaking.
I had to make decisions on the spot today. I had to think fast and adjust plans more than once. I had to spend more than I planned to spend, and I had to prioritize safety over everything else.
The Small Lessons This Day Taught Me
- Double-check everything. One careless moment can change the rhythm of your whole day. Whether it’s sending money or packing a parcel, I’ve learned to slow down.
- Money can go fast. Sometimes it leaves your hands not because you’re careless, but because life just happens. And that’s okay.
- People still help. Even though I paid the posta guy and the rider, their actions helped me get my phone back. That matters.
- Not all protection feels soft. Sometimes blessings come dressed as inconvenience. What feels like bad luck might actually be a shield.
- Gratitude doesn’t always look pretty. Today wasn’t smooth, but I still have what matters.
I’ve been sitting here thinking about everything. About how 3000 disappeared into thin air. About how one wrong move could’ve meant losing my phone forever. About how small mistakes and delays somehow led to me being safe at the end of it all.
I don’t have a clear lesson or moral to end this with. All I know is: I’m safe, my phone is with me, and maybe that’s enough.
I didn’t gain anything “tangible” from today, but I gained perspective. Not every blessing comes in a soft, beautiful package. Sometimes it comes through chaos, overcharges, and heart-stopping moments.
So yeah… maybe today really was a blessing in disguise. A rough, expensive, draining kind of blessing. But a blessing nonetheless.
And that’s what I’ll choose to remember.
