As we mark the posthumous birthday of John Tolulope Ajayi today, I find myself reflecting on a man whose relentless pursuit of excellence shaped not only an institution but also the lives and careers of countless professionals.

To many, he was a publisher, editor and industry leader. To me, he was a mentor, teacher and figure who demanded the very best because he genuinely believed the best was possible in everyone he encountered.

June 12 means something different to me this year.

It is the birthday of my late boss, mentor, publisher, Chief Executive Officer, founder and Editor-in-Chief, John Tolulope Ajayi.

Yet, for the first time, we are marking the occasion without his physical presence.

Six months after his passing, I find myself reflecting not on the sadness of his absence, but on the extraordinary impact he had on my life and career.

Like many people whose lives he touched, I carry countless memories of John Ajayi.

Some are difficult. Some are humorous. Some are unforgettable. Together, they tell the story of a man who demanded excellence because he genuinely believed excellence was possible.

My first encounter with him came during the COVID-19 pandemic.

At the time, I was working elsewhere and had gone to cover the launch of Promasidor’s Twisco beverage drink on behalf of my employer.

The event itself was successful, but my real encounter with Mr. Ajayi happened after the event during post-production.

One day, he called, saying that the client was unhappy with some of the pictures used in the report.

According to him, the images did not adequately represent the Nigerian market. I immediately made the necessary corrections.

Then another call came, and another, and evensometimes at midnight.

Each call came with fresh instructions, new adjustments or additional client requests.

But I kept making the corrections. At the time, I simply saw it as part of the job.

Looking back now, I realise he was teaching me one of the most important lessons of my career, which is, client satisfaction is not achieved by convenience but by commitment.

Eventually, after numerous revisions, he called again.

This time, his voice carried excitement.

“The client loves the job,” he said.

I still remember how pleased he sounded.

That was my first lesson from John Ajayi.

Years later, it would not be my last.

After spending few years in broadcast journalism, I began considering a career change. I reached out to him.

His response was immediate.

“Wow! Really?” he said.

Then he asked a simple question:

“What can you do?”

After listing my skills and experience, he invited me over.

When I arrived, he asked if I had brought my laptop.

I hadn’t.

Without wasting time, he handed me a story assignment.

“Write,” he instructed.

I wrote the story and submitted it.

It was a Friday.

After reviewing it, he simply said, “Resume on Monday.”

That was how my journey at MARKETING EDGE began.

What I did not know then was that I was about to enter one of the toughest and most rewarding classrooms of my professional life.

Coming from broadcast journalism, I thought I understood storytelling.

I quickly discovered that brand journalism was a different world entirely.

The language was different, even the expectations as well as the standards.

Meanwhile, John Ajayi expected nothing less than mastery.

To be honest, my first few months were difficult.

Monday editorial meetings felt like examinations.

We would present story ideas and he would dissect them without mercy.

“This is not a story idea.”

“This cannot survive in a newsroom.”

I heard those words more times than I care to remember.

Then came my first assignment.

After reading my report, he looked at me and said:

“Madam, you tried. But what you have written is kindergarten journalism.”

I wanted the ground to open and swallow me.

Yet what happened next revealed who he truly was.

He did not stop at criticism, instead, he sat down and edited the story.

Suddenly, what had looked ordinary became compelling.

What seemed weak became alive and that became his pattern.

He would tell me my story was hanging.

That it had no life.

That the syntax was weak.

That the story was begging for direction.

But he never criticised without teaching.

Every correction carried a lesson.

Every rejection carried guidance.

Every tough conversation carried an opportunity to improve.

Gradually, I began to understand him.

I began to understand his standards.

I began to understand his editorial philosophy.

And more importantly, I began to understand that his toughness was not cruelty.

It was conviction.

One phrase he constantly repeated remains with me today.

“The peak is in you.”

He genuinely believed there was nothing anybody could not accomplish if they were willing to learn and work hard enough.

Often, he would tell me:

“Madam, if I, John Ajayi, can do it, you can do it better.”

Then he would ask a question that became a defining part of my writing journey:

“What is the thrust of this story?”

No matter how I answered, he always found a way to sharpen the angle, strengthen the narrative and improve the presentation.

Slowly, I grew.

Slowly, I improved.

Slowly, I became better.

And he noticed.

The same man who once dismantled my stories became one of my greatest cheerleaders.

John Ajayi praised with the same intensity with which he corrected.

When he was impressed, everybody knew.

He celebrated excellence loudly.

He acknowledged growth openly.

Sometimes he rewarded it financially.

I remember writing a story on the 20th edition of the MARKETING EDGE Awards.

When he finished reading it, he was genuinely excited.

He publicly commended me and rewarded me with a cash prize.

For him, excellence deserved recognition.

Those moments meant more to me than the money.

They represented acceptance.

They told me I was growing.

They confirmed that the long nights, countless rewrites and difficult corrections were producing results.

One of my most treasured memories came during my last promotion.

In a message shared publicly with colleagues, he celebrated not only my promotion but also my journey.

He described me as a star writer.

He said the epaulettes were earned and deserved.

He spoke about dedication, resilience and commitment.

Then, in a manner only John Ajayi could, he signed off affectionately, calling me “Madam Felicia, the Felicity herself.”

That message remains one of my most cherished professional possessions.

Because it represented something deeper than promotion.

It represented trust.

It represented belief.

It represented the confidence of a man whose standards I had spent years trying to meet.

Over time, something else happened.

John Ajayi stopped being just my boss.

He became my mentor.

My teacher.

My guide.

And gradually, a father figure.

He cared about our work, but he also cared about our growth.

He wanted us to succeed.

He wanted us to grow.

He wanted us to become better versions of ourselves.

Today, when I write, I still hear his voice.

When I question a headline, I hear him asking about the thrust.

When I rewrite a sentence, I hear his insistence on clarity.

When I push myself beyond what seems comfortable, I hear him saying, “The peak is in you.”

As we mark his posthumous birthday today, I have come to appreciate that John Tolulope Ajayi’s greatest legacy is not only the institution he built.

His greatest legacy lives in the people he moulded.

In the journalists he trained.

In the professionals he inspired.

In the standards he established.

And in the lives he transformed.

I am proud to be one of those lives.

Happy Posthumous Birthday, Sir.

Thank you for the corrections.

Thank you for the lessons.

Thank you for believing in me.

Your voice may be silent, but your impact continues to speak every day.