12/02/2026
Paystack, a Logo, and a Lesson I Didn’t See Coming
Some memories only reveal their weight long after they happen. One of mine begins with a phone call in 2015. At the time, I did not think much of it. Years later, with distance and perspective, I understand why that moment stayed with me.
I had temporarily relocated from Lagos to Abuja and had changed my phone number due to persistent network issues with my previous Glo line. When the call came through, it was Shola. We had not seen or spoken in years. We exchanged pleasantries and briefly caught up, reflecting on how much time had passed.
During the conversation, he mentioned that he got my new number from Ezra, someone I had also not spoken to in quite a while, although I was closer to Ezra than to Shola.
Ezra and I met in 2008 at Softcom, a tech startup we were all genuinely excited to be part of. Softcom had recruited me from Tavia Tech, an already established firm, and I joined without hesitation because I believed strongly in Yomi’s vision as Co-Founder and CEO, and in what we could build together. It was a young, ambitious team, largely made up of Covenant and Babcock University graduates, driven by a shared desire to contribute meaningfully to Nigeria’s emerging tech ecosystem.
Back then, Shola would occasionally stop by our office on Allen Avenue, Ikeja. He was close friends with Ezra and Mayowa. That was how I became acquainted with him. He was friendly, positive, and always smiling. No matter the conversation, he carried an easy warmth. Mayowa, however, only spent a month or two at Softcom before leaving to Co-Found a company with Shola. Looking back, that was likely why Shola was always around.
During that 2015 phone call, we spoke at length. He told me about Paystack and said he needed “just a logo.” I explained that I do not design “just a logo.” I build brands and develop visual identity systems. I advised that it would be more effective to work on a complete brand identity with supporting assets, rather than a standalone logo.
He was firm in his position. It was clear he wanted something quick and minimal. At the time, my branding projects typically ranged between N500,000 and N1.5 million, depending on scope. Still, because na my guy and we were all trying to push forward in our own ways, I offered to deliver a full brand package for N300,000.
He pleaded, insisting he only needed a logo for now, promising to return later for the full brand assets. Against my better judgment and professional principles, I agreed. I designed several logo concepts and sent them over.
Although he had asked for something simple, we went back and forth extensively on design options. His preferences consistently outweighed the strategic direction I advised. One of his references was PayPal, and he wanted blue as the primary color. I did my best to avoid imitation and focused on creating something distinct, all within a very tight timeline of less than a week.
When the logo was delivered, I only received N50,000, paid in two installments.
I did not press the issue.
He had said he would return for the full brand identity, which would naturally involve refining the logo and adapting it across platforms. A few months later, he reached out, explaining that they were having difficulty placing the logo on a blue background. I told him this was exactly why a full identity system was necessary, to remove guesswork and ensure consistency.
He said he would get back to me.
Much later, he asked me to send an invoice, but only for a letterhead design. I was surprised. I expected we would finally formalize the full brand engagement. He insisted on starting with just the letterhead. It became clear to me then that there was a fundamental gap in understanding what branding entails.
I sent the invoice as requested and included links from my portfolio to give him a clearer idea of what a full brand identity package entails. A few days later, he replied, apologizing for the delayed response, explaining that he had been busy with his team, and noting that there was still more work to be done on the brand.
I followed up, asking when we would proceed with the remaining assets. The back and forth had dragged on, and I wanted to properly conclude the project and document it in my Behance portfolio. After that, communication stopped. Despite multiple follow-ups on WhatsApp and Instagram, I received no response.
I let it go.
Some months later, I saw reports that Paystack had secured $1.3 million in funding. I was genuinely happy for them and sent a congratulatory message to both Shola and Ezra. I received no reply.
Not long after, I noticed that Paystack had rebranded. The color palette remained, but the logo had changed.
Eventually, the only message I received was an Instagram DM from Shola informing me that the branding had been delegated to someone else.
From a professional standpoint, once an invoice is requested, it signals an intention to engage and compensate for work. By that stage, I had already begun assembling brand materials in anticipation of completing the identity. My interest was not the money. I wanted to see the work through and include it in my portfolio.
Much later, I sent messages expressing my disappointment. They were read, but not answered.
At the time, I considered pursuing the matter further legally but ultimately decided against it. We had mutual friends, and Paystack’s growth was a source of pride for all of us. I had no desire to detract from that moment or to be seen as resentful. So I carried on quietly.
It has now been over a decade since then.
Recently, while lying in a hospital bed, I found myself reflecting on many moments in my life, including this one. I do not know what tomorrow holds, but I remain hopeful.
This story is not about blame or bitterness. It is about boundaries, the cost of informality, and the lessons that come from trusting too easily in professional relationships. I have learned to value my work more clearly, to protect my process, and to insist on structure where goodwill once stood alone.
Some experiences stay with you, not because they were loud or dramatic, but because they quietly shaped who you became.
This is one of mine.
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Thomas Peretu Jr.,
Designer, Lesmor
IG:
