It is 10:00 A.M. Time for your major appointment which was postponed a couple of times because the GM was’ “Busy!” The secretary was, as they say, dressed to kill. Aren’t they all! The moment you enter you are met with her, “Another one of them,” look. You might not be dressed to kill, but you were at your best; it is the third time you put on that special suit bought eight months back.
Seldom do you find yourself in such high caliber offices! You bow slightly and say a very measured, “Good morning;” The heavily scented air of her office eats up your “Good morning.” You are trying to be nicer than nice could ever be and she acts as if you’re some caricature!
Her body in a forty-five degree angle, she just slants, and almost stares at you. She’s letting you know your presence wasn’t welcome. If you expect something like, “How may I help you?” Forget it. And, while I’m at it, cut back on those Hollywood movies where the secretaries act like angels without wings.
“I would like to talk to the General Manager.”
“He’s busy.”
Just like that; no preliminaries no nice intros. Even her voice sounds so unnatural. I mean, as secretaries are supposed to do, she could have asked your identity, the nature of your business and the like; not this one.
“But, I’ve an appointment. This is the third time!”
“He’s busy. You can come next week.”
‘Next week! Next week yourself!’ Your rage is so intense it demands great effort on your part to calm down.
I mean, you are there on purpose and not to seek her consent for some amorous relationship…a worthy thought had the situation been different. Don’t worry. Despite her ‘beauty,’ for which you give the thumbs-up to the cosmetic industry, her lack of civility nullified any nagging thoughts of infidelity. Still, her tone of finality leaves you wondering; “Is this lady a general manager in waiting!” Well, we’ve seen many acting like real managers and God knows if there wasn’t behind-the-scenes approval for their managerial freelancing. A little “Sorry!” wouldn’t have stolen the blush off her cheeks! Unless, the mascara is some hand cheap, hand-me-down. (Where’s this talk leading me to?”)
It is your time they’re wasting! Only you know the trouble you went through to convince your boss to give you a couple of hours off and this lady treats you like you were some trespasser. The funny thing is that it is not the GM but his secretary that puts you through the mill. If you are thinking of reporting her to the boss, be sure to have some painkillers at home. You’ll need them. It would be like reporting her to herself! In that case your case would have been thrown out and your medical bills would hit an all-time high. About this unique ‘chemistry’ between some bosses and their secretaries, maybe it should be given as a stand-alone course in management training!
Ours is not a society where time enjoys the importance it should. In an age where minutes and seconds could make a world of a difference we throw away the hours and days like they were damaged plastic bags.
Look, many times you could be late for legitimate reasons. You can do nothing about the old minibus taxi which goes at the speed of 10 mph! Even if you deduct the thirty-five minutes your wife’s early morning dressing down, you still couldn’t have made it on time. But your boss doesn’t believe you. You know why? Well most of us are in the game. The boss himself came home at midnight last night and told his wife he was in a marathon policy drafting meeting. True, he was drafting, no denying the fact. The only thing is that it has nothing to do with policies; unless of course you put human flesh to policies! Ha! (As if I’ve done my research!)
And then there are meetings. If you come across a meeting that starts at the exact time mentioned in the program, you’re a lucky. Maybe you should try your luck with the ten million prize lottery. Seldom, if never, do meetings start on time. The meeting hall is full with even no standing room. Still, brace yourself for an hour and a half wait.
Why? The guest of honor will not be there on time! Being an hour or more late seems to be one of the guests of honor’s ‘privileges.’ I’m not sure if there is a why; but guests of honors in this country are on Cloud Nine. (And don’t you try to bring them down!) One way of flashing the ‘Cloud Nine’ gem is making hundreds of people wait for your arrival.
No guest of honor is there on time; no way. Coming on time would be like making yourself ‘the crowd.’ Food for thought, the ‘guest of honor’ is not in ‘the crowd.’ That’s why one is made guest of honor… for not being ‘the crowd!’ Anybody, even you and me, could be ‘guests;’ but having word ‘honor’ added is a whole lot of a different story.
And what does the guest of honor do? Nothing! He just sits there flashing his Armani suit and acting like he was the one who dethroned Alexander the Great!
“Do you know what time it is?”
“Half past four.”
“You are thirty minutes late.”
“So you have become a ferenji!” Well, being on time is being a ferenji I mean if you are angry with someone for being a half an hour late, you are a ferenji. That sort of reasoning must be the pinnacle of stupidity.
Thirty minutes is not being late. It’s being on time. Not that traffic held you down or some unforeseen circumstance stopped in your path. It has become the norm. There could be only a few places where time is abused so unashamedly.
The Ethiopian Herald Friday 7 February 2020
Ephrem Endale
Contributer
