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Another long day, with parts of it spent trying to remember the access code to this account. I haven't paid much attention to this page since my declaration to 'stay the course': I didn't see comments and I was discouraged. Maybe nobody cares what I have to say. So the plan today was just to check if the account was active and see if anyone's clicked in; which is only likely by accident. And then I see that I have a follower! Someone, somewhere still wants to read from me. So this is dedicated to this lone follower. Don't 'unfollow' me now o. Motivate me.
A lot has happened since the last post. Well, not a lot really: 3-hour commutes for work, long meetings, and all that make up the humdrum life of the white collar worker in Lagos. But in the same sedentary life that we endure, a few things happen here and there that remind us that we need to check ourselves, before we become zombies, robbed of our collective psyche. Our apparent obsession with trying to be the Big Man, Chief, Chairman, Madam, Oga, or treating people we perceive as such with such reverence, while stepping on those we think are otherwise is so pervasive that I can think I can call it a disease. A social disease.
One early morning during rush hour, I decided to make a quick dash for the fuel station en route to work, in order to avoid the panic buying that would definitely ensue afterwards. As I inched into the NNPC station, I did a quick check for any loose change to fill up my tank: no amount is too small, see. A hundred naira note here. A crumpled wad of 200 naira notes there. After what seemed like an episode of Gulder Ultimate Search, I was able to come up with N1,840. A slight problem though: the key prize, a N500 naira note, was so worn it could barely pass for a legal tender. A worried look, then a shrug followed. Shebi fuel stations collect any kind of money, and they can just pass it to the bank. Worst case I will frame it for my yet unborn children; a good lesson in currency management.
I asked the fuel attendant to sell N1,300 worth of petrol, just to be on the safe side. As he starts to dispense the fuel, I politely handed him the money in advance, telling him that he should 'not mind' the mutilated N500. He took the money, looked at the notes and flung them at me. "What nonsense!", he barks, "All these small, small boys wey dem don give motor and go still dey try to chance us for here". I wasn't too surprised that he rejected the money, but was angry that he was rude. Very rude in fact. So I politely told him that he didn't need to be rude by throwing the money at me and screaming; he could just tell me that the money wouldn't be accepted.
As if I slapped him. "Who are you? You be Senator pikin? Abi you be SA to Raji (Babatunde Raji Fashola, the Lagos State Governor)?" I could feel my ears burning with rage. But what could I do, I thought? I had put myself in the position by not having 'clean' notes. His colleagues came to his (my?) rescue, apologising and telling me that they couldn't accept my now famous N500 note. "But he could have just told me that. Or is it because I am not driving a 'big' car?" The man sneered at me. "Who go dash you big car?" He was obviously having a good time tormenting me. By this time the honks from the drivers queued behind had reached cacophonous levels. In the end, I picked my money from the floor, got rescued by a colleague also at the station and filled my tank. As strange as it now sounds, I spent the day in utter shock. Customer service, Nigerian style.
Fast forward to 2 months later, after someone 'dashed' me a 'big' car. The dude is always grinning from all ears when I drive in to buy fuel. He calls me Chairman, tells me how he likes my car and asks what I would give him for the weekend. While I do not want to sound condescending or denigrate the fellow, it is attitudes like this that make it difficult to be of any assistance. And we have a version of this monster in us: the receptionist who rolls her eyes at you because you look unkempt; the lift operator who doesn't wait for you as you race towards the lifts because you don't 'settle' him, or the bank teller that is rude to you because, as she pays out your money, notices that you never have more than a certain amount in your account. Circumstances change. Ask our politicians. I'm sure those people that 'showed' them would be cursing the day now.
Just be nice.
