Happy New Month!
July came with a gift for pharmacies.
TrackIT is officially LIVE.
Inventory, sales, staff, profit. All in one place.
No more guesswork. Just growth.
Start now → https://t.co/xgjkULioet
A pharmacist shouldn't have to hold everything in his head stock, expiries, drug interactions, sales, branches.
That's too much for memory. Too risky for guesswork.
TrackIt pharmacy intelligence, not just inventory.
Launching soon. 👁️
#TrackIt#PharmacyIntelligence
Your stockroom is either making you money,
Or quietly losing it every single day.
TrackIT spots expiry risks before they hit.
Alerts you when shelves run low.
Shows your bestsellers in real time.
Pharmacy management, redefined. Coming soon.
Running a pharmacy without real-time data,
Is like driving with your eyes closed.
TrackIT opens them: inventory, sales, staff,
Suppliers, profit all on one dashboard.
Built for pharmacies that refuse to stay small.
Complete visibility drops soon. Get ready.
In 2006, about two weeks before WAEC, this boy who was an apex playboy of SS3C brutally broke the heart of the school's most beautiful girl. She caught him writing a heavily romantic letter to a junior student.
She did not cry or fight but that evening, she sent for him. Behind their biology laboratory, she removed her brown sandals and placed them gently on the ground.
Stepped barefoot like she was entering an agreement the soil needed to witness.
Then she spoke with tears in her eyes:
"Ose, because you have torn my heart to pieces, I decree that you will never know peace at night! You will spend the rest of your life waking up at ungodly hours to cut human flesh! Your hands will be permanently stained with blood, and your entire existence will be surrounded by uncontrollable crying and torn bodies!"
She wore her sandals and left.
The boy laughed at first.
Those kind of laughter people used to protect themselves from fear. But that night, sleep did not come easily. And the night after that.
And somehow… not even after that.
Years passed, his nights became occupied.
His hands were always working. Twenty years into the future, he would be violently forced awake at three in the morning with human blood literally soaking his hands, staring directly at sliced open flesh, listening to the agonizing, uncontrollable crying of humans in pure physical distress.
Everybody who remembered the curse thought his destiny had been permanently hijacked. They assumed he had mutated into an underground ritualist or a notorious butcher, destined to die miserably while cutting flesh.
But villains rarely get the ending we pray for.
He is 35 years old and the curse worked with 100% absolute precision because he spends his nights waking up at 3 AM to perform emergency C-sections. His surgical gloves are constantly covered in blood and his entire existence revolves around cutting human flesh, the uncontrollable crying of newborn babies, and repairing torn perineums.
And today, when Dr. Ose returns from the labor ward and washes the blood off his hands, he enters a very expensive, silk-sheeted bed right next to the exact same woman who cursed him.
#Fiction: Inspired by Dr. Ose's Growth
Written by Thazhigilla🤍
Excel proficiency is a prerequisite for 80% of job positions.
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Just finished my intro to Data analytics class! Data storytelling is all about making numbers come alive with captivating narratives and I’ve always been a numbers girl 🔢😌
#EdubridgeUpskillTraining#EdubridgeDataanalytic