The Gentleman Debtor: A Realistic Tale of Debt Recovery in Lagos

"The Gentleman Debtor"

I remember the first time I met him.
He had that look—pressed suit, charming grin, cologne just strong enough to leave an impression but not loud enough to be boastful. The kind of man who talks with a measured cadence and uses words like “inevitably” and “collateral” as if he invented them. A gentleman, at least by first impression.

His name was Omotoyinbo. Just Omotoyinbo. He dropped the first name like a celebrity might. Or like someone hiding something.

It was a Tuesday morning when I arrived at his office—a glass structure somewhere in Lekki Phase 1, Lagos. Quiet area, too quiet perhaps. The receptionist welcomed me with a forced smile, like she’d had a dozen debt collectors walk through that same door before me. Maybe more.

He shook my hand like an old friend would.
“Ah, my brother,” he said, “I knew this day would come. Sit. Sit down.”

That wasn’t what I expected.

He had defaulted on a ₦146 million facility, principal and accrued interest. Three months overdue. No partial payment. No communication since the second reminder letter. But he sat there, cool as harmattan breeze, offering me coffee.

“I haven’t forgotten,” he said, waving his hand like the whole debt was a minor inconvenience. “These things… they take time.”

I didn’t respond immediately. I just watched him. That’s something you learn in this line of work: say less, observe more.

“The market has been volatile and you know the situation with COVID 19 back then,” he added. “You know how dollar rates are now. Central Bank, inflation… it’s chaos. But trust me, I’m working on it.”

The thing is, he sounded believable. But then again, that’s the game.
He leaned back in his chair, like we were discussing weekend plans, not outstanding obligations.

I opened my folder slowly, making him watch me do it.
“Mr. Omotoyinbo,” I began, tone calm, “You signed a personal guarantee on this loan. Your company is in breach, and you—personally—are liable. You understand that, right?”

He nodded, sipping his overpriced espresso. “Of course. But come on. Let’s be reasonable.”

Now, that word—reasonable—is a favorite among debtors who think delay is a strategy. It’s a delay dressed up in velvet gloves.

Reasonable? Interest doesn’t wait for what’s reasonable.

“You’ve had 120 days moratorium interest free,” I replied, firm but not hostile. “That’s beyond reasonable.”

His smile didn’t waver. That irritated me more than anger would’ve.
He reached into his drawer and pulled out a thin folder—typed letters, printed emails, screenshots of bank drafts. Half-baked proof of intention. Not actual payment.

“This shows effort,” he said. “Surely that counts for something.”

I didn’t even touch the folder. I’d seen that move before. Effort, intention, plans—none of them pay the creditor.

“I’m not here to argue with you,” I said after a pause. “I’m here to retrieve payment. Or, if you’d prefer, escalate enforcement.”

That’s when the temperature in the room shifted slightly. Not visibly. Not dramatically. Just enough for me to notice he blinked a little faster.

“Are you threatening me?” he asked, voice still smooth, but tighter.

“Of course not. I’m stating your options,” I replied.

Let me clarify something here: debt recovery is not about shouting. It’s about pressure. Not loud pressure—legal pressure and stay on the side of the law and do not allow them go civil with attempts to delay the inevitable. Controlled, deliberate. A slow, tightening screw.

“I’m simply informing you that if repayment is not received within the next five working days,” I continued, “we will proceed with legal demand notices, lien initiation, and asset tracing. Including personal assets, as per your signed guarantee. Which includes that black Mercedes downstairs, by the way.”

Silence.
He looked at me now—not the charming surface, but with the flicker of recognition. Like he had finally noticed I wasn’t just another suit with a file.

“Okay,” he said eventually. “Let me speak to my partner. We’re expecting a receivable next week.” 

That’s another common phrase: expecting receivables. This is always the lies debtors always tell
It usually means nothing is coming.

“Alright,” I nodded, standing up. “Send me a confirmation by Friday. Email and hard copy. If I don’t get that, we move forward. No more friendly visits.”

I left him there, still wearing his smile like armor, but it had begun to crack. I could tell. A man can’t fake confidence forever—not when the game is up.

Now, I won’t lie to you—some days, this job feels like chasing smoke. You knock on doors, deliver notices, listen to long-winded excuses. People stall, evade, disappear. But there’s something about persistence. It makes even the smartest debtor uncomfortable.

Four days later, I got an alert.

₦35 million.

No apology. No message. Just a transfer from his company account.

It wasn’t the full amount—but it was movement. Proof that pressure works.

The next morning, I called him. He answered on the second ring.

“Mr. Omotoyinbo,” I said. “I received the first part. When can I expect the balance?”

There was a pause. Then, “We’re working on it. Soon.”

I didn’t push.
Not yet.

Because sometimes, once the mask starts to slip, you let it fall on its own. Let them stew in their own anxiety. That’s more effective than confrontation.

He’s not the worst I’ve dealt with, not by a long shot.
But he is, perhaps, the most polished.
A gentleman debtor.

And like all gentlemen debtors, he thought charm could buy time. Maybe even immunity. But debt doesn’t respect charm. It doesn’t recognize charisma. It only responds to pressure, and in the end, it always finds a way to be paid.

Perhaps not today.
Perhaps not even by next week. Perhaps not even next month or next quarter.
But trust me—he will pay.

Or the law will make sure he does.

....Real Life Experience of Dr Kreeno

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