I was at the bank earlier this week, and I had a less than satisfactory experience, to say the least. I was there to pay for airline tickets, because I previously had trouble processing the payments online. It was a beautiful Harmattan day, a mish mash of sunny skies and cold wind, just the way I liked it. I had walked into the banking hall in a pleasant mood, but then ran into the case of the sour bank teller.
The client services officer was not rude, but she offered no warmth in the manner in which she attended to me. If I had to translate the experience into Igbo, it would come out like this:
“Si’eba puo!”
*Translation*
"Hurry up and get out of here!"
“I did not like her attitude,” I huffed and puffed to my sister's hearing on our way out. She seemed to agree with me. I had every reason to be upset. We had been spreading the good cheer, singing and swinging towards the New Year, only to be served Grinch vibes for no apparent reason.
Oh well, these things happen.
I thought about the bank teller again, as we stood waiting for a taxi. This time my mind offered another perspective. Would she rather be at work during the holidays?
As our taxi crawled through the almost empty streets, pictures flooded my mind: Pictures of people who do not get to indulge in the holidays, the ones who cannot afford to, because they run systems so that the majority of us can have a Detty December. The real holiday makers.
I spared a thought for restaurateurs, cooks, taxi drivers, club bouncers, and ATM technicians - how do they kickback, relax, and take a moment to prepare for the New Year? Do they get to share precious moments with their families, share home cooked meals and listen to stories with rapt attention, over a bottle of malt or coca-cola?
What’s more, there are the security guards, doctors, police officers, the airline hostesses, people who are always on call, 365 days a year. Love them or hate them, they always show up, no excuses, no regrets.
I recalled strangers that had served me throughout the holiday, in particular the cashier at SPAR, resplendent in her yellow tulle lace dress, she had sold me ice cream on Christmas day; the Uber driver who had driven me to the airport days before, and called hours later to make sure I had arrived my destination safely. On the trip, he confessed that I was his third rider - he had only started driving the day before, and seemed to be struggling with Google maps.
It would not hurt to take a moment to show compassion, to appreciate the people who sacrifice their time and talents to make our vacations memorable. Say please and thank you, and mean it. Make small talk, if you have the time, for the little things matter. Don’t forget to smile. Leave tips if you can, a bit of kindness goes a long way.
In all your merry making, remember that some people do not close down business to join in the festivities, just so that you can.
