Public Awareness Stories & Experiences

Lately, I saw a video on TikTok that really scared me. It was about a couple who found something dead inside a big yoghurt or maybe juice, I couldn't remember vividly what the brand was. I couldn't believe it, thought all those kind of companies would have their hygiene at its highest. I was so scared that I didn't want to buy yoghurt again.

But tonight, I was really craving the Hollanda yoghurt. My tummy was growling with hunger. I had 1800 Naira saved up, so I thought, "Why not? I need to try it." I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and remembered the video. But I didn't let it stop me. I went to the store and bought a big Hollanda yoghurt.

When I opened it, I was nervous. My heart was beating fast. But I tasted it. And you know what? It was good! Really good! It has always been good if not for that video that almost ruined my love for Hollandia. I was so happy that I could enjoy the yoghurt without finding anything weird inside.

Now, I'm feeling great. My tummy is full, and I'm satisfied. I hope everyone has a good night like me. I'm glad I faced my fear and tried the yoghurt.

In our lodge, we had an odd way of showing thanks to workers like him, an electrician who was a neighbour. Instead of paying them money for their hard work, we usually offered drinks or snacks as a way to say thank you.
On this day, the electrical guy was fixing our light which usually had issues almost everyday.
I often wondered if the electrician felt a little underappreciated, but he always worked with a smile and chatted with everyone around.

Finally, after what felt like forever, he finished the job. I was excited, hoping to see some kind of thanks for him. I thought people would offer him a drink or at least say a proper thank you. He had worked so hard, and it felt right that he should get some recognition.

But as soon as the lights were on, I was disappointed. A few people nearby shouted a quick “thank you!” as they hurried back to their rooms. There were no drinks, no snacks, nothing nothing.

Watching this made me feel sad. The electrician deserved better after all he had done. He had spent weeks making things right for us, and in the end, he got nothing more than a few rushed words. I wished I could do something to show him that he was appreciated, but I felt stuck just watching, my wallet was lying empty lolz.

I remember when our community road was flooded. The water was really deep, and everyone knew to slow down when they got to that part. But one day, a motorcycle rider didn't slow down at all.

He was carrying a woman and driving really fast, following a car too closely. It was very dangerous, and he didn't even slow down when he got to the flooded part.

The motorcycle slipped on the water, and the woman fell off. The rider tried to control the bike, but it was hard. The car behind them stopped just in time, so they didn't crash.

People rushed to help the woman and the rider. Luckily, they weren't hurt too badly. It was after that incident, that the government finally stepped in to do something about that poorly built road.

Were they waiting for people to involve in serious accident before doing the needful? I'm just glad no one got seriously hurt.

It was one of the coldest winter and many animals were dying because of the cold. The porcupines, realizing the situation, decided to group together to keep each other warm. This was a great way to protect themselves from cold and keep each of them warm; but the quills of each one wounded their closest companions.

After a while, they decided to distance themselves, but they too began to die due to cold. So they had to make a choice: either accept the quills of their companions or choose death. Wisely, they decided to go back to being together. They learned to live with the little wounds caused by the close relationship with their companions in order to receive the warmth of their togetherness. This way they were able to survive.

On my way home from Sunday school. I was still young back then, and my mum always warned me not to take the short path home when it got late. But that evening, I felt so tired and hungry. The youth leader had given a long speech that lasted two hours after class, and I just wanted to get home quickly.

As I walked, I tried to convince myself, “There’s no one who could attack me; I’m a child of God.” That thought made me feel brave, so I decided to go down the forbidden path, the one Mum had told me to avoid.

But then, all of a sudden, I heard a voice say:
“Come here!” It was a dry, compelling voice that sent fear down my spine.
I didn’t think twice; I ran as fast as I could. My heart was racing, and I could not think of anything more or better than to run.

Finally when I reached my house, I took a time to catch my breath, and then I thanked God for keeping me safe. I promised myself I would never take that shortcut again once it was past 5 PM.

I never told anyone about what happened that night, especially not my mum.

So today, I finally got the chance to dive into the story session that I had always visited. A little escape into the world of creativity and imagination. Yet, something was different this time. As I scrolled through the recent entries, I noticed that the story session had been pouring with activity over the last couple of days, there was more good stories too. I couldn’t help but wonder, “Oh, what happened?”

Curiosity pulled me toward the opinion segment of the website. That’s when I stumbled upon a post by the admin, something about “paying Order 3.” I had no idea what that meant, but it intrigued my mind. I couldn't quite remember how I had come across that article again, but the thought lingered with me. Maybe I should give this a shot.

So here I am, sitting down to write my story. There’s a fright in my chest, who knows if people will like my story?. I often found inspiration in the simplest of things, and today was no different. As I penned my thoughts onto the screen, I felt a stirring belief that my story could resonate with someone out there. If I shared my narratives, who knows? Maybe they would make an impact or at the very least, spark a smile.

I really want this to work. I want people to connect with my story, to feel something as they read it. So I'm reaching out, hoping that you, dear readers, will like what I write. It's a small wish, but it's significant for me. Here’s to putting my thoughts into words and sharing them with the world. Let’s see where this journey takes us!

I lived with my aging mother, Ngozi.

My father had died when I was young, and my mother raised me alone, working tirelessly to make sure we had enough to get by. But as the years went by, life became increasingly difficult.

We had little to eat, and my dreams of escaping poverty seemed further out of reach.

One day, my mother’s friend Ifeoma visited, her arms filled with gifts.

"Ngozi, you should consider joining us," she urged my mother. "This is how I’ve managed to buy these things and secure a future for my children."

My mother’s eyes were filled with a mix of envy and desperation. "But what do they want in return?, Hope they won't come after my head someday" she asked, clearly apprehensive.

"No never, we don't do human Sacrifice"

"It's just a little rîtual" Ifeoma replied.

"A small price for such great rewards. You and Chukwudi can have everything you’ve ever dreamed of."

That night, I noticed my mother lying awake, clearly troubled. The next morning, she sat me down, her voice trembling.

"Chukwudi, there’s a way for us to escape this poverty. It involves joining a certain group that can make all our dreams come true."

I looked at her, sensing her desperation.

"What kind of group, Mama?"

"It is called the group of affluence," she admitted, tears welling in her eyes. "They require a little rîtual but not a human Sacrifice, but they promise riches and a secure future. I want you to have a better life, my son."

I was stunned. "Mama, this sounds dangerous. We don’t need their wealth if it comes at such a high cost."

My mother’s eyes were filled with sorrow. " Yes I understand but I doesn't, i just want to ensure you’re taken care of, even after I’m gone. Please, Chukwudi, consider it."

Reluctantly, driven by my love for my mother and the promise of a better life, I agreed. That night, we were led to a secluded location where the cult conducted its rituals. The air was thick with incense, and the atmosphere was heavy with foreboding.

Emeka, the cult leader, greeted us with a chilling smile. "Welcome, Chukwudi. Are you ready to make the sacrifice for wealth and fame?"

I nodded, though fear gripped my heart. "What do I have to do?"

Emeka’s smile widened. "The final sacrifice requires the head of someone you love dearly. Your mother's head, she must be buried alive."

I recoiled in horror. "No! I can’t do that!"

Emeka's eyes hardened. "It's either her life or yours. Choose wisely."

"No I rather dîe than do such, I can't burry my mother alive, no I can't", I thundered.

"Shut up chukwudi, you will do it", my mother echoed from a distance.

"Mother, no I can't watch you buried alive, no", I said still in shock

My mother stepped forward, her face a mask of sorrow. "Chukwudi, if this is the price for your future, then so be it. I love you, my son."

I was dumbfounded.

My heart shattered, but I knew there was no other way out. With trembling hands and a heavy heart, I performed the ritual, sealing my fate and sacrificing my mother.

Now, years later, I sit alone in my luxurious mansion, surrounded by wealth and fame. Yet, none of it brings me joy. I reflect on the price I paid and the emptiness that wealth cannot fill.

I share my story with a heavy heart. "I thought I was securing a future for myself and my mother. But now, I realize I traded something priceless for fleeting riches. My mother isn’t here to enjoy this wealth with me, and every day, I’m haunted by the choice I made."

Tears stream down my face as I look at a picture of my mother.

"In the end, the riches mean nothing without the ones we love. I would give it all away to have my mother back. Let my story be a warning: no amount of wealth is worth losing the people who truly matter."

My tale serves as a stark reminder of the cost of desperation and the devastating consequences of sacrificing love for material gain.

Please share your thoughts on this story

Was the sacrifice worth it.

Can you offer yourself for the future of your child, just like ngozi did?

A lesson everyone needs to learn, no rîtual is little and no amount of wealth is worth losing those you love, all comes with a grievous consequences

Please share this story 🥺🙏

During my secondary school days, I attended a community secondary school, and it was located in an interior village in my state. Most people didn’t take education seriously over there, they just attended the school because their parents asked them to. You will see all kinds of behaviors from students that think and believe differently.

My first time in school was very frightening; a student stabbed his classmate with scissors, right in his eyes, and that was the first time in my life, that I saw blood gushing out of a human being like tap water. People using planks to fight themselves, and you won’t actually believe that I also got to see a student with a gun, the school was not that conducive when it comes to learning and security. I was very young back then and was really terrified of those things.

There’s a time that I went to urinate close to a bush during break time, I met a senior student there that was smoking, his eyes were literally red. After I finished urinating, he told me to come closer to where he was and I did, he stretched out the cigarette to me, and told me to join him. I refused, and when he wanted to use force, I ran back to my class without wasting anymore time. I bet he didn’t know me, otherwise he would have looked for me later on.

90% of my classmates and other students that I knew were either into drinking, smoking, cultism or worse, it was very hard finding a decent friend, so I never had any. Some of them didn’t write the final exams because of the mess they had landed themselves; they faced situations like unwanted pregnancy, imprisonment, and expulsion. Some had ruined their life with the type of friends they kept and the activities they got involved with, that even after secondary school, they can’t move on from those things.

The amusing thing is that I never felt like joining them or being a part of any of those things, because my parents always made it a routine and consistent thing to tell my siblings and I, about those things and their consequences. I feared the consequences more, so I never dared to get myself involved.

my phone rang. The caller ID showed an unfamiliar number, but I answered it anyway. On the other end, a friendly voice introduced himself as a parish priest. I was surprised; I hadn't spoken to a priest in years, let alone one who was calling me out of the blue.

He went on to explain that he was reaching out about a grant application I had filled out three years ago. It seemed odd that they still had my information after all this time.
Maybe this was the good news I had been waiting for all this time. He told me that the grant was now active and that he wanted to send me some contact numbers to follow up.

I was puzzled and, honestly, a little hopeful. Maybe this was a blessing finally coming to fulfilment. The priest gave me a couple of phone numbers and encouraged me to reach out to them. With a renewed sense of optimism, I decided to give them a call.

After a few rings, a voice on the other end answered. I explained who I was and mentioned the call I received from the priest. They seemed friendly enough and quickly expressed that I had missed a seminar the previous week. I hadn’t even known about it; life had gotten in the way, as it often does. They began discussing the details of the grant, and I felt my excitement building up, as I imagined what I could do with the funds.

But then, as the conversation continued, I started to pick up on certain hints in their tone. I found myself feeling a bit uneasy. They suddenly mentioned that in order to proceed with the grant process, I had to send a payment of 30,000 Naira. My heart sank immediately. Up until then, I had genuinely believed this was a legitimate opportunity, but now?
I just hung up thinking about how many people these deceitful people were going to scsm with their well thought up tactics.
Just be careful out there all of you, and please like my story.

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Yesterday evening, I noticed that I had developed a bothersome nose, it itched. It had been such a long time since I had last dealt with this unpleasant sensation in my nasal cavity, so having my nose irritate me till now managed to agitate my day.
Perhaps it was the tension and anxiety surrounding the test we had to take yesterday that triggered it.

The catarrh not only irritated my nose with continuous rounds of rubbing but also led to a persistent headache. Breathing became a struggle, and at times, it felt as though I was coming down with nose-rubbing madness. It was a frustrating combination of discomfort, making me feel both sick and stressed at thesame time.

Despite my mounting discomfort, I persevered through the day, determined not to let it impact my performance during the test. However, as the day drew to a close, hope seemed be in sleep and I just hope I'm good the next morning.
Good night fam.

I was on my way from the street of Maryland down to Timberland New Market. My main goal was to buy essential foodstuffs, as I felt the nearby shops had been raising their prices unnecessarily. I settled into my seat, ready for the journey ahead.

To my surprise, I was delighted to run into some old friends on the bus. We had lost touch for quite some time, and it was a pleasant surprise to see them again. Eager to reconnect, I engaged them in conversation, but it seemed they were too occupied with their phones. I decided to put my phone aside and focus on the reunion. However, my friends were glued to their screens, only lifting their gaze for a word or two before returning their attention to their devices.

Observing this, I couldn't help but ponder the role of technology in our lives. It seemed that everyone was tied to their phones, keeping themselves occupied with what appeared to be very important tasks. I wondered what it would be like for a person to go without their phone for an extended period. Would they feel lost, disconnected from the world? Would they feel useless without their device constantly at hand?

In my view, a phone should be just a part of our lives, not the center of it. If people were suddenly stripped of their phones for weeks on end, would they be able to adapt and find meaning in other aspects of life?

Last evening, feeling the weight of the week's stress, I decided to take a walk around my neighborhood. After about 20 minutes, I passed by an uncompleted building that usually stood silent. But this evening, I heard the low murmur of voices coming from inside. Curious and a bit concerned, I decided to investigate.

I quietly approached the building and saw a shocking scene right before me. Three men were standing around a young girl, demanding that she tell them her bank PIN. They had a POS machine in their hands, clearly intending to rob her. The girl looked confused, almost as if she were in a trance. Realizing the urgency of the situation, I didn't think twice and shouted at them with all the force I could muster.

Startled by my sudden intervention, the men immediately fled, dropping their POS machine in their haste. Once they were gone, I hurried over to the girl. She seemed disoriented and frightened, barely able to comprehend what had just happened. It became clear to me that she had been hypnotized or controlled in some way, as she had no recollection of how she ended up there.

I quickly called a friend who lived nearby, asking him to bring his car and take us to the nearest pharmacy. While we waited, I tried to comfort the girl, assuring her that she was safe now. She slowly began to relax, but it was evident that she needed medical attention to fully regain her senses.

When my friend arrived, we carefully helped the girl into the car and drove straight to the pharmacist. There, she received immediate care and gradually regained full consciousness. The pharmacist confirmed that she was likely hypnotized and suggested she rest to help clear her mind.

After the girl regained her composure, she expressed her deep gratitude. She couldn't remember much, but she was thankful for the timely rescue. I was relieved that she was safe and hoped the authorities would catch the men responsible. The world is not safe, pray for God's mercies each day, He will keep his people safe.

Chinedu woke up to the sound of heavy rain pounding on the roof of his small apartment in Yaba. As a third-year engineering student at the University of Lagos, he had a busy day ahead with an important lecture on Thermodynamics. Glancing at the clock, he realized he only had an hour before he needed to leave.

He looked at the overflowing basket of dirty clothes in the corner. His mother’s voice echoed in his head, reminding him of the importance of cleanliness. He knew he couldn’t put off the laundry any longer. Just then, his roommate, Ifeanyi, walked in.

"Nna, this rain no get joy o. You sure say you wan wash these clothes today?" Ifeanyi asked.

"I don't have much choice, Ifeanyi. I won’t have any clean clothes for the rest of the week," Chinedu replied, determined to stick to his plan.

Ifeanyi suggested, "Why not use the new laundry service? I hear they’re very reliable and can even deliver back to you on campus."

Chinedu, however, was set on doing things himself. "I can handle it," he said, grabbing the basket and heading for the washing machine.

As the machine hummed and churned, Chinedu quickly got ready for his lecture. The rain showed no signs of stopping, and he was already worried about his clothes drying in such weather. But with no time to waste, he dashed off to campus, hoping for the best.

The lecture was engaging, but Chinedu found it hard to concentrate fully. His thoughts kept drifting back to his laundry. He imagined his clothes drying perfectly despite the rain. But deep down, he had a nagging feeling that things might not go as planned.

When the lecture finally ended, Chinedu hurried back home, his heart pounding with anxiety. As he turned the corner to his apartment, he saw the aftermath of the heavy rain. His clothes were nowhere to be seen on the drying line.

Rushing to the backyard, Chinedu's heart sank. The wind had blown his clothes all over the muddy ground. Shirts, trousers, and socks lay scattered, soaked, and dirty. Some pieces were even missing without a trace.

Chinedu stood there in the rain, feeling a mix of frustration and regret. If only he had listened to Ifeanyi's advice. Slowly, he began to pick up the clothes, mud clinging to his hands and clothes. The reality of the situation hit him hard.

Just then, Ifeanyi appeared, holding an umbrella over both of them. "Nna, I warned you," he said, trying to lighten the mood with a smile. "Come, let’s gather these clothes. We can wash them again."

Chinedu couldn’t help but chuckle despite the mess. "You were right, Ifeanyi. Next time, I’ll be more flexible."

Together, they collected the scattered clothes and brought them inside. Ifeanyi helped Chinedu wash the clothes again.

As he prepared for another day at the University of Lagos, Chinedu knew he was not alone in his journey. He had friends who had his back, and sometimes, listening to their advice was the best course of action.

As a youngster, I was infatuated with wrestling matches. The world of WWE and its larger-than-life characters enthralled me, and I eagerly devoured every match, buying CDs and spending a small fortune on my devotion to the sport. I was captivated by the dramatic plots, the acrobatic stunts, and what I believed were hard-hitting punches; it was my ultimate form of entertainment.

However, as I grew older, a realization slowly began to dawn on me, and it was a tough pill to swallow. I came to understand that what I had thought were bone-crushing punches were, in fact, meticulously choreographed maneuvers. The entire wrestling spectacle was meticulously planned out beforehand. It was a revelation that shook the foundations of my passion for wrestling, and I could feel my fervor fading away.

With each match, my interest steadily waned until I lost all enthusiasm for wrestling. I couldn't help but feel a tinge of pity for the younger fans who still believed in the authenticity of it all, unaware that the thunderous blows and awe-inspiring stunts were nothing more than smoke and mirrors. I longed for them to see through the manufactured ruse, to recognize that my beloved sport was more performance art than genuine competition.

Despite this disillusionment, I still maintain a respect for the wrestlers and their incredible stunts and strategizing. Their athleticism and showmanship are undeniable, and I can appreciate the talents and hard work that go into their performances. It's just that I wish others would come to see wrestling for what it truly is.
But I must add that wrestling was my favourite sports until I looked closer.

When I was in nursery and primary school, there was a period when I struggled to understand anything being taught. I couldn't read, write or even spell my name. My teacher at that time was a young man who frequently beat me, leaving me with cane bruises every day. The fear of his punishment made me dread going to school. My parents believed he was doing the right thing by disciplining me this way and even hired him as my tutor after school. This only intensified my fear, making it impossible for me to learn.

Everything changed when a new school opened in our compound, and my parents enrolled me there. I started in Primary 3 and met a kind and caring female teacher. Unlike my previous teacher, she never used the cane. Her gentle approach and encouragement helped me to feel comfortable and safe. Within one term, I learned to read and write, something I couldn't achieve under my former teacher's harsh methods. This new environment allowed me to thrive academically.

I soon became the top student in the class and took first place that term. The moment my name was announced in the assembly as the top student was incredible. My parents stood at the back, smiling proudly. I stood up, faced the school, and smiled back at them, knowing I had made them proud and that their efforts had paid off. They gave me a gift to celebrate my achievement, marking a turning point in my academic journey.

And since then my life changed because of that one teacher who made me love studying, and even till today, I haven't forgotten her and can never forget her. I hope to visit her in the nearest future and repay her for transforming my life. She laid the basic foundation of education for me. The thought of how my life would have looked like by now if I never met her terrifies me.

This experience taught me that children learn best in a supportive and loving environment. My previous teacher's harsh discipline only instilled fear and hindered my learning, while the kindness and encouragement of my new teacher helped me to excel. My story shows that with the right support and care, any child can succeed academically.

I had a important business deal to attend to at home, so I boarded the first bus to get there as quickly as possible. But, little did I know, the journey would be a challenging one. As soon as we hit the road, we got stuck in a traffic jam.

After several hours on the road, a heated argument broke out between two men. Their loud voices and angry words made everyone uncomfortable. I hoped it wouldn't get out of hand.

Just as the argument started to die down, the bus was pulled over by a police officer. He boarded the bus, searching all the male passengers for anything suspicious. I held my breath, wondering what was going on. The search felt like it took forever, but eventually, we were allowed to continue our journey.

The road itself was a nightmare. Potholes made the bus sway throwing us around. I held on tight, praying the bus wouldn't break down or worse.

After what felt like an eternity, we finally arrived in my hometown. It was already 9 pm, and I knew my parents would be fast asleep. I let myself in with a spare key, not wanting to disturb them. I crept into the house, exhausted but relieved to be home.

That was when I realized my ATM card was gone! I desperately searched my room, but it was nowhere to be found. I must have lost it while I was sleeping on the bus, but I had no idea if it fell out on the bus or outside. There was nothing I could do than block it to avoid story that touches the heart

I went straight to my room, collapsed onto my bed, and fell into a deep sleep. The journey had been exhausting, but I was safe and sound at last.

The next morning, I woke up refreshed and went to greet my parents. They were surprised to see me, not knowing I had arrived the night before. We hugged, and I told them about my eventful journey.

Late last year, there was a digital craze that took some people by surprise - coin airdrops had given lucky individuals a little fortune. The concept of coin airdrops involved distributing cryptocurrency tokens for free to holders of a particular digital currency. Little did I know that it would become a significant opportunity for those willing to invest the time early on.

When the opportunity to join in the coin airdrop presented itself, I had the chance to get involved early, but I hesitated. I used to belittle the idea of spending time tapping on the phone screen just to accumulate a few coins and points. It didn't seem worthwhile at the time, and I dismissed it as a trivial pursuit.

However, one of my friends decided to take part in the coin airdrop and ended up reaping significant rewards, earning up to 400 thousand naira from the project. Upon learning about my friend's success, I realized the missed opportunity and regret quickly set in. I vowed not to pass up on any coin airdrop that had a promising perception of success from then on.

Fast forward to this morning, and here I am, making sure I don't let another profitable coin airdrop slip through my fingers. I've already claimed my coins - diligently tapping away on my phone to accumulate the tokens. Despite my initial reluctance, I've come to understand the potential value that these airdrops can hold.

But here's the catch - no one needs to know that I'm tapping away for these coins. It's my little secret, my personal journey to ensure I don't miss out on the next budding opportunity. Whether it's out of a sense of missed opportunity or simply a newfound appreciation for the potential rewards, I'm determined not to let another chance like this pass me by. Who knows what the future holds? I'll be ready for it.

I went to my favorite store to stock up on some provisions. I picked up a chocolate drink that I loved, but when I got home and tasted it, something was off. It tasted rotten! I thought maybe I was just being paranoid, but the taste was really bad.

I went back to the store and told them about the problem. But instead of apologizing and offering a refund, they told me that it was a new recipe and that's how it's supposed to taste! I was skeptical, so I decided to buy the same drink from a different store. It tasted like it used to - delicious!

I thought maybe it was just a one-time mistake, but then I noticed that the custard I bought from the same store had gone bad. It was all lumpy and smelly. I took it back to the store and they told me it was still good to eat! I couldn't believe it.

I was starting to get really frustrated with this store. How could they be so dishonest about the quality of their products? I decided to avoid them from then on. But then I went on holiday and forgot all about the issue. When I got bacm, I heard some shocking news - the store had been shut down! Apparently, they had been selling expired products left and right, and someone had finally reported them to the authorities.

At first, I felt a little bad for the store owners. I mean, losing your business is a big deal. But then I remembered all the times they had tried to pass off bad products as good, and how they had put people's health at risk just to make a quick buck.

It was a hard lesson for them to learn, but it's an important one. Honesty and integrity are essential in business, and if you compromise on those values, you'll eventually pay the price.

I'm just glad I was able to avoid any harm from their expired products. And I'll never forget the lesson I learned - always check the expiration dates, and never trust a store that tries to pass off bad products as good!

remember last November when my roommate came back home very sad and anxious. He told me that his phone had stopped working earlier that day. He was really worried because he was almost late for an important exam and he had to put his bag down quickly. He didn't realize that his iPhone 11 was in the bag.

After the exam, he looked for his phone in the bag but it wasn't there. He asked people if they'd seen anyone near his bag, but no one had any helpful information. His phone was gone. It felt like something you'd see in a movie, and he started crying again as he told me the story.

He felt really upset and gloomy after losing his phone. His parents got him a new one, but it was different - it was an android, not an iPhone. He started to feel a bit better, but he wasn't as happy as before because he really missed his old phone. The change to an android phone made him feel a bit sad, even though he tried to feel better. The memory of his iPhone 11, and the switch to a new phone, made him feel a bit sad for some time.

Well, I don't blame him too much for having felt that way. IPhones boosts a person ego and status and I know what it feels like to use an android after being known as an iPhone user.