GAL FRIDAY: An odd sense of entitlement
I was confronted with a cadaverous countenance as I sat across the desk from one of my potential pupils.
She eyed me nervously and was ready for the interview to begin. As we commenced, I noticed that she was chewing gum, in a fashion much like the cow chews cud. As she moved towards her seat, I asked, “What interests you in this position, madam? Have you ever trained at a banking institution?”
She patted the top of her head vigorously, still chewing energetically. “I jus want a job, yuh.”
Although the interview was mentally over at this point for me, I continued, “If you could have the job of your dreams, what would it be?”
“A mortician because I is like to see dead people and how dem dress up an ting.”
Since I am a firm believer in pursuing one’s passion, I suggested that she may wish to contact some funeral homes in order to fulfil her fantasy. She was dumbfounded when I informed her that she was not the most suitable applicant for the job.
Fast forward a few days later.
My friend Julia Harewood gets an “application” for a vacancy. It is on a torn-off piece of paper, written in pencil. The candidate is informed that she is unsuccessful. However, the said candidate proceeds to visit the establishment daily thereafter, hurling abuse and threats at management for not having hired her.
In her words, “They want to keep me down, but I defending my rights.”
Most of us may think that this must be the utterance of a mad woman. But the reality is that we live in a society where many think that the world owes them something . . . and if they don’t get it, well, you could bank on the fact that trouble is imminent.
When we decide we must give our children that smartphone, tablet, the latest gadgets and gear; even if our pockets hurt like a woman horned, what message are we sending them? That sense of entitlement comes from somewhere; and perhaps we must look at the qualities we instil in our youngsters when we overindulge or even try to overcompensate.
But talking about compensation, a gentleman, who recently got laid off, visited the bank a few days ago to save some of his pennies for a rainy day. He was “putting aside something”, since he didn’t know when next he would have this much cash in hand.
He was “being smart and saving”.
How am I privy to this without even knowing the man’s name? Well, he was on his cellphone and the entire bank heard his ten-minute long conversation.
As he ended his call, a little old lady answered the ring of her cell. “Hello? I at the bank, I will call you back,” the old lady pleasantly chimed.
The same man – who was practically shouting on his phone only a few seconds earlier – looked at me quizzically and hollered, “She got to talk so hard? She can’t see we in a bank?”
*Veoma Ali is an author, actor, broadcaster, advertising exec and, most importantly, a karaoke lover.