Is it too early to ask for a raise? Zahrah stares at her laptop screen. It is Wednesday afternoon, and she has just finished drafting an entire month’s worth of social media captions for her boss in under three hours. She knows she is good at what she does, and the 120,000 alert that will hit her phone at the end of the month feels more inadequate with each new day, especially if she compares it to the moves her friends are making. Thankfully, Mum taught her not to compare.
Their conversations are making me reflect on my financial wellbeing. Mum has also said that as an adult, I should contribute something to the upkeep, and she’s not wrong. The cost of transportation is terribly high, so, comparison or not, I also need to find a way to increase my income, so I can do all these things and still save, then eventually invest too.
Her phone buzzes on her desk, pulling her out of her musing. It is a WhatsApp group video call from their WhatsApp group. Last year, Tola changed the group name from ‘Table for Four’, which Eunice had named the group, to ‘Young and Wealthy’.
Tola and money! She chuckles as she puts her earbuds in and joins the call.
“Girls, we cracked it!” Tola announces excitedly. She is sitting in the file room of her law firm, whispering loudly.
Eunice joins the call from her bedroom, looking just as excited as Tola sounds. “Tell them, T! I am so excited.”
“Clearly.” Zahrah smiles.
Chinwe connects a few seconds later, her phone propped up on a cutting table at her fashion studio. “I am here. Who called an emergency daytime meeting?” Chinwe sounds half distracted; she obviously joined because she thinks there is something urgent.
“Sorry, babe, you sound busy. We were just so excited.”
“No worries, oya spill,” Chinwe responds, sounding a little less distracted.
“Okay, so we looked at what Lagos businesses actually need,” Eunice starts, leaning into her camera. “Everyone wants to sell online, but nobody has structure. They just open an Instagram page and start posting. So, Tola and I are launching an SME Starter Kit.”
Zahrah quirks an eyebrow, intrigued. “A starter kit? Like, what is inside?”
“Peace of mind and good branding,” Tola answers smoothly. “I will handle the legal structure, registering their business names with the CAC, and drafting basic terms of service so dispatch riders and difficult customers and staff don’t exploit them.”
“And I will handle the brand strategy,” Eunice chimes in, her marketing background finally taking centre stage. “I will help them define their target audience, create a brand identity that actually stands out, and set up systems so the business can eventually run without the founder micromanaging every single post. We will help them build lasting organisations, not just side hustles.”
Wow, Zahrah thinks. They actually figured it out. Chinwe claps her hands on the screen. “I love this! It is a brilliant blend of both your skillsets. Small businesses desperately need this. So, the big question: how much are you charging for the package?”
The video call gets awkwardly quiet for a split second.
“Well,” Tola says slowly, “we were thinking 40,000 Naira for the whole kit. You know, just to attract our first few clients.”
Chinwe’s smile vanishes. “Forty thousand? Tola, CAC registration alone has a fixed government cost. What is your profit margin?”
“About 15,000 Naira to share between Eunice and me,” Tola admits, suddenly sounding less confident. “But we just want to get our foot in the door! If we charge too much, they will just go to someone else.”
“No, they will avoid you because you are too cheap,” Chinwe corrects her, switching into full CEO mode. “The pricing for the services you want to render is semi-standardised; this means that there is an average industry cost based on certain fixed expenses. If you charge peanuts for legal work and brand strategy, people will assume you don’t know what you are doing. It is called perceived value. Do you want people to think it is a charge and bail lawyer that will be handling their business?” She chuckles, then continues seriously, “I am not asking you to overcharge; I do understand your concerns about just starting out.”
“We don’t even have a portfolio together yet,” Eunice argues softly. “Shouldn’t we charge less while we build one?”
“In my opinion, discounting your service to get clients is a sure way to remain broke,” Chinwe warns. “If you start by serving clients who only want cheap work, they will drain your energy, demand the most revisions, and refuse to pay when you finally try to raise your prices. Price your service based on the value and structure you are bringing to their business, not based on your desperation to make a sale. My recommendation would be that you both read a book or two, or even articles on pricing, and rethink your price oo.”
Zahrah mutes her microphone, so they do not hear her sigh. She is taking mental notes. Perceived value. If Eunice and Tola need to charge based on the value they bring, maybe she also needs to look at the value she is bringing to her boss’s brand.
As the girls continue discussing the idea and their plans, Zahrah wonders: is it harder to convince a stranger to pay what you are worth, or to convince your boss that you should get a raise?
