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They told you to “get your foot in the door.” What they didn’t say is that the door opens into a room where you’re constantly ideating, working overtime, and often going unseen.

It can be exhilarating, confusing, stressful, and sometimes deeply unfair. But for many Nigerian interns and PAs, it’s also their first real taste of doing what they love.

We spoke to eight young professionals currently navigating this space. They opened up about the pressure, the passion, the long hours, and the joy that keeps them going. From music label offices to chaotic film sets and glitzy award shows, they’ve seen the hustle behind the spotlight—and they’re telling it exactly how it is.

“Nollywood is an industry of people pleasers.” — Okoli*, production assistant.

I started this year after I began my NYSC programme, and my passion developed from shooting videos with phones into film production. A friend I met in church introduced me to her friend—also a church member—who works at a certain Nigerian film production company. After the introduction, and after showing the guy my Instagram page and telling him what I want to do after NYSC, we followed each other on Instagram and talked. He facilitated my internship at the film company that I currently work for.

In the first week of working there, I quickly realised that there’s so much money in entertainment. There are always two or more multi-million naira projects in production, and projects waiting to be approved for production. And from my recent understanding of the film business, the producers are the moneyed people. But most actors have to hustle. They live on set, going from one location to another just to make enough money. I see that every time, and it saddens me. I’ve since decided that I’d be a producer or own a production company—especially after seeing that the glamour actors enjoy doesn’t necessarily translate to more money in their bank accounts.

But more importantly, I’m motivated to get bigger than just an errand runner to a lot of people on set. From handing out call sheets to assisting with setup and ensuring that crew members—who are mostly rude to assistants—are well-fed, I’m rarely in one place. There was a time when I returned late to the hotel from a shooting location and had to sleep for three hours, then went back to the location. I got there, still exhausted, and the director and some big actors demanded a meal that was different from what everyone else had. I told them it was out of my hands, and it escalated into an outburst from them, calling me rude and disrespectful. I stood my ground though, and when my boss came, he appealed to them and promised he’d make it up to them.

I didn’t like that my boss massaged their egos, but when he spoke to me one-on-one, I realised he did that to make them feel important and focus on working. Aside from the money that I believe my talent can fetch me in the industry, my biggest takeaway about Nollywood is that it’s an industry of people pleasers.

“Your back will break under the weight of sequins.” — Bukunmi*, executive assistant.

I work as an executive assistant to a stylist, and I got the job by asking around my network about any open jobs they knew about.

I mostly work remotely, and anywhere from 6-12 hours. I usually start by giving my boss a rundown of what’s happening that day, then I dive into setting the meetings of the day, sorting the pick-ups, returns and most of the other business tasks that need to be completed that day. I act as a fulcrum for the rest of the business to run smoothly. I enjoy it. The pay is worth it too. But aside from the money, the people I have worked with are amazing, and I feel respected in my role.

What mostly stresses me at the job is trying to get all the information I need from my boss, so I can do my job effectively. You’d be surprised how much bosses “forget” to give their EAs updates and how that can disrupt a day like an earthquake. Also, coordinating shoots and other tasks remotely is hard and nerve-wracking. I was most surprised by the number of lies I had to tell about tasks and deliverables. People in this industry can never be trusted with the truth about time constraints and deadlines.

Some people say that the work is easy because it’s glamorous, but, omo, your back will break under the weight of sequins. It’s why I always tell people who want to get a role that they’ll work hard and prepare their minds for it. There’s value in good work.

I’ve been lucky with my job and the pay. But the ridiculously low pay newbies are offered is terrible, given the learning curve they are faced with in their role.

“To scale right now is mainly dependent on how crazy and bullish I can be with my networking.” — Lemi*, entry-level event operator.

I’m currently in my seventh month of transitioning into the music business space as an operations manager for live events and tours. I work with an agency that provides consultation to major award shows in Nigeria.

My first day at work immediately gave me a chance to see the behind-the-scenes culture first-hand. But I also, shockingly, found out that the size of the operations team was just a few people handling things over the years. I had expected that it’d be an elaborate team of fifty people. It’s a hard job.

When there are projects on deck, the timing is usually scattered. Depending on the timeline of the project, I might take no breaks till the job ends. For an entire week, I could work up until the day of the event and its end. I remember a time I worked without breaks from 7:00 AM to 3:00 AM the next day—I had never done anything that rigorous before in my life. My body broke down a week later.

But thankfully, we don’t work daily due to the nature of the job; it’s only when there are projects to execute.

On the days I’m not on set, I work a few hours daily to check work messages, respond to prompts, and be in meetings. The potential for growth that exists in this career path is at the agency I work at. Great connections and networks abound here. This place makes me look beyond the salary, which is entry-level payment, by the way. In fact, I have had to fund some stuff out of my personal pocket, but I don’t see it as a cost. It’s a means to an end. I want to be in this industry for a long time. What I’ll gain here is more than the money—I can’t put figures on those kinds of things.

I quickly recognised that the people I work for want to see confidence, intellect, and efficiency, so I try my best to give all that I have to the job. I have suggested ideas that were executed and lauded. There are times that I assist others in their roles when I quickly finish my work. I’m naturally inquisitive, so I’m usually drawn to finding out what others do in their roles. And lucky for me, the work culture allows me to be flexible and build strength. Knowing that I’m there because I want to be, and that opportunities will be available makes the job feel easier for me.

But when people make comments on the execution and quality of projects post-events, I find it hilarious. Many people simplify the process of this job, but the truth is, many can’t grasp what it takes to execute award shows.

But if I could change something about working in events, it’d be the structure first. I’d ensure entry-level candidates get visibility and are given chances without scrambling up and down in the name of networking. To scale right now is mainly dependent on how crazy and bullish I can be with my networking.

It’s crazy that, looking back at my first day at work, I wish that instead of being picky, I could go back in time to network with every single person I met there. I feel things would be easier and fairer if there were a system that helps me and other entry-level employees settle into the system, without the craze to lobby our way and growth around.

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“I just don’t want to get used to not getting paid on every project.” — Samuel*, cinematography and video editing intern

I’m an entry-level photographer, cinematographer, editor, and colourist. I’m currently at a film academy that just started. Handling cameras and editing is literally all I know how to do. It’s great to have a place where I can learn and put my skills to use.

Though as much as work can be flexible and fun, an incident taught me to avoid mixing fun with work and to keep things completely professional until the job is done. One time, the DIT/Wrangler guy—who was supposed to copy video clips and manage files—got distracted chatting with a girl. He forgot to copy and back up the footage before handing the card back to the DOP, who then formatted it right away. Everything they had shot and worked on got wiped, and the DIT guy ended up getting arrested and locked up.

It’s easy to forget yourself or lose sight of important things sometimes because everything we do here revolves around spending almost all of our time on set—sleeping on set and working overtime. I just do my job and try not to get carried away.

I’m also learning to be comfortable with the idea of being away from home almost all the time. A typical day on set lasts at least 12 hours. In fact, I’ve learned not to set a specific time or expect when work will end—it often leads to disappointment that eventually drowns in work. The first day on set taught me that. I had no idea that getting one perfect scene could require so many takes. It was exhausting, but I’m used to it now.

I just don’t want to get used to not getting paid on every project—though they can be a worthy learning curve.

“I’m nervous, sometimes sweaty, frantic, and my hands are filled with mics, lights and whatnot, but men just want my number.” — Wuraola*, social media manager intern.

I remember my first day of on-site work was at Rema’s listening party for HEIS. I was meant to interview people and make content around the event. Report some stuff happening live too, like track features, if any—stuff like that. But I was overwhelmed. I had briefly considered working at events like this when I applied, but I didn’t realise I would be that overwhelmed. I was so overstimulated that I kept going in and out of the party. It was all too fast-paced for me. Matter of fact, the interviews I did were not even good enough for stories. Thankfully, nobody scolded me for it.

Since that event, I have grown and become a better social media manager, but the stress that comes with it is astronomical.

When I first started, I woke up bright-eyed by, say, 7 a.m., and I’d be on ground, reporting news and working on my tasks almost nonstop till evening. It was shocking how I needed to always be ready to interact with strangers—online and in person—and how much diplomacy the role actually requires.

Over time, I’d wake up on a weird, sad note, and I couldn’t find it in me to get an hour of work done flawlessly. Burnout is always ready to creep up on me. And it breathes down my neck, especially as someone who lives with a mental disorder of some sort. I have trouble sleeping, and I struggle with ADHD (which comes with some anxiety) and mild depression. So, sometimes, I truly just want to lay in bed, cry, and stare for hours. But I can’t. I have to consistently bubble with energy and ideas, and they have to be in line with what the audience wants and what sparks conversation.

The industry’s pace is fast, and the consumers are so feeble. I either catch on and hold tight, or get flung aside. My team lead and senior team members always try to find ways to avoid burnout and keep the quality of our work optimal, but it’s just not enough sometimes. And for somebody like me, who’s barely a year in, I can put in all that work and my content still falls flat sometimes. Nowadays, I always make sure I tick two things off my task list daily no matter the blockers. And I hope that lasts.

Another stressful thing is the hazard that comes with being a woman. I do find it funny when I’m trying to get work done and I’m getting hit on. That has happened quite a number of times. I’m nervous, sometimes sweaty, frantic, and my hands are filled with mics, and lights and whatnot—but men just want my number.

Also, some people think I’m a hotshot because I work for a popular music and pop culture platform. Absolutely not. Ordinary people make outstanding structures. Sure, there are people on the team who are big and popular and shot-callers and all of that, but I really am just a girl trying to meet my KPIs and learn.

Though I’d make intentional acknowledgment mandatory. Everywhere it’s feasible to do so, junior hands and minds should get credited—not just relied on. We’re the ones making the calendars, crafting the questions, editing the captions—all of those ‘little’ things that become a large pot of tasks.

I’m lucky to be in a work environment that respects and values me and my opinions, and is keen on highlighting every active mind, but it’s almost utopian compared to the average junior creative’s experience in this industry. I wish the salaries were better too. I understand that for some, the profit line is too close to raise salaries for entry-level workers. Even though I’m paid, and I don’t exactly know how to measure the financial compensation against the work I do—partly because I’m not particularly working for money yet—but I really wish there was a shift.

Maybe I can make some changes someday too, since I love playing a part in documenting the African entertainment space’s evolution. I love being part of the systems that push us into global recognition. I think this is what I was made to do, honestly. I’m quite new—a year in—so I’m still very rough around the edges, but I think I have a lot to offer this industry.

“I have learned to be aggressive at this job, though. If I’m not, I won’t get anywhere or get anything done, especially with many Nigerian artists.” — Ibi*, marketing and PR coordinator intern.

I used to work as a lifestyle and culture writer before my love for music drove me to work in music public relations (PR) late in 2024. I’m a marketing and PR coordinator for a PR agency, and I have worked with artists like Fola, L.A.X, and many more.

I work remotely but for an insane amount of hours. There used to be a time I would work till 12 or 1 in the morning before I went to bed, then wake up by 5 and pick up work again. But now, I’m very intentional about how I work. Although I still stay awake at night, it’s usually to do media analysis and see what’s happening on social media. The effort that goes into this job is huge, and it’s why I believe it’s not for cruise or vibes.

It’s a lot of work that sometimes goes unseen in the eyes of the artists because I work for an agency. Some of the artists I’ve written concept documents for have no idea what I did. I remember how excited I was to see an artist I work with at Fashion Week in Paris earlier this year, but that was it. Whether they recognise my contribution or not doesn’t bother me, as long as the world and the people that matter to me see the work that I’m doing.

But I have learned to be aggressive at this job, though. If I’m not, I won’t get anywhere or get anything done—especially with many Nigerian artists. Most of them do whatever they want and they don’t care. Being aggressive lets people listen to me. So, I carry it in the way I speak, the way I carry myself, and in my approach. But I also know when I need to be patient. There must be balance, and as someone who wants to be in this industry for a long time, I’ve learned to know when to apply aggressiveness and when to apply patience, because both are needed to succeed in this industry.

So far, it works for me—maybe because of my big stature and clear communication. With my trajectory, everybody in this industry is going to know my name and the work that I’m doing in the next three years.

“I love having things mapped out and at the moment, I feel like I’ve got things mapped out.” — Philemon, music intern at Azuri Music.

My workplace is a prominent music distribution company responsible for hits like Hyce, Boypee, and Brown Joel’s singles like “Ogechi” and “Constantly.” Also, Spyro’s “Who’s Your Guy” and “Only Fine Girl,” to mention a few. I’ve always wanted to work in the music business because of my deep love and passion for music. As an undergraduate student of Quantity Surveying, I was looking for inroads into the music industry and trying to plant my feet ahead of my eventual graduation from uni. I didn’t want to come out of uni confused and uncertain. It’s why I started plotting my career post-uni.

I manage a friend who’s an artist. Sometime in 2023, he wanted to release a new song. We looked for a distro and found Azuri. We distributed the song with them. I really loved the seamlessness of the distribution process and how they were supportive. The head of marketing even jumped on a one-hour call with me and my artist, discussing how we could promote the song—giving us tips we could be charged for, for free. I loved that.

In January 2024, I reached out to the head of operations of the company on X, asking for an opportunity to intern. I remember him asking me who asked me to reach out to him because it was quite random. We jumped on a call, had a lengthy conversation, he gave me a task to do, and the rest is history. I’ve been working with Azuri since then, and to be very honest, it’s been a wonderful experience so far. For most of my time there, I’ve worked remotely because of uni, but while I was in Lagos doing my student internship in 2024, I popped into the office a lot of times.

The first time I went to the office was just basically acquainting with people I had been speaking with virtually and just getting a layout of the land—knowing the who’s who of the company. It was a fun experience because I got to listen to a lot of unreleased records. I appreciate any opportunity to listen to music that is not yet out.

Going over time at Azuri so far, an experience that’s close to unforgettable for me was one time I went to the office and Motolani Alake popped in. That was really cool. I’m a big fan of Motolani and his work at Pulse. Reading his articles inspired me to start writing about music and even pursue a career in this industry. I’ve also gotten to meet a bunch of popular artists and producers, which is really cool too.

I thoroughly enjoyed my time working with the company. I genuinely appreciate the knowledge, experience, and exposure I’ve gotten with the company. I have more clarity about this music terrain now, and I’ve met some really cool people. Most importantly, I feel a little more comfortable knowing that I’ve got something laid out for me after uni. I hate uncertainties, I love having things mapped out, and at the moment, I feel like I’ve got things mapped out.

“I’ve learned to speak up for myself when needed” — Gift*, personal assistant to an influencer.

I saw the personal assistant vacancy on Snapchat and I applied. I went through the interview process and was offered the role. But it wasn’t so swift—it took about two or three weeks for me to finally get a response. I even thought the role had been given to another person.

My tasks have been managing schedules, organising meetings, and making sure everything runs smoothly behind the scenes. Basically, I’m my boss in another body. It has been great. My boss is nice, supportive, and easy to work with. On most days, it feels like I’m helping out a friend, not actually working.

I’ve been trusted with big responsibilities, and it makes me feel good to know that I’m considered trustworthy and reliable. All my good experiences far outnumber the bad ones, which are mostly when I’ve been spoken to disrespectfully or blamed for things outside of my control by my boss’s clients. These moments don’t happen often, but when they do, my boss always steps in and has my back.

My boss also knows I’m not the most comfortable person in crowds, and he’s very considerate whenever there’s a work event. His support in those situations means a lot and reminds me I’m not alone in the role. But I’ve also learned to speak up for myself when needed. Now, I set the tone for how I want to be treated. Being respectful doesn’t mean accepting disrespect.

I’m truly grateful for everything this experience has taught me and how it has shaped how I think, work, and carry myself. But I also know there’s more ahead for me. I’m ready to grow beyond this and explore how far my skills and mindset can take me. I’m not just evolving in my role—I’m evolving as a person.

Some names and workplace details have been changed to protect the identities of the individuals and allow them to speak candidly without fear of professional consequences.

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