“A bird does not change its feathers because the weather is bad.” – African proverb
Recently, I overhead someone being introduced hit me that we have turned each other into human resumes. The trend is; “Hello, this is Kojo Basia, he is a lawyer.” “Do you Ama Bayin? She is a teacher at Kwesikrom International School.” “Meet Eyram, she is the sister of our Parliamentarian.” This is the way we normally describe people. We employ the criterion of hierarchy or utility, as it that individual is a nobody unless he or she has a profession or a rank or is associated with someone of prominence.
Likewise, when we interact with others, we never bother to know who they are. Instead, we are interested in what they do for a living. Could our interest in the ‘hierarchy or utility’ of a person be a testament that we are interested not in who people really are, but only in what they can do for us?
It is as if people become real only when we attach them to an institution or personality. It is as if without that modifier of a teacher, lawyer, doctor, or someone’s cousin, that individual simply floats in the ether, undefined, irrelevant and maybe unworthy of a proper introduction. Here is the uncomfortable truth. Almost all of us have become professional prospectors, constantly assessing everyone we meet for their utility value. What can you do for me? What doors can you open? What problems can you solve?
At parties and in other programmes, we do not ask “What makes a person happy, or what brings them joy?” Instead, we ask “What do you do?” And God help you if you are between jobs or careers, or raising children, or heaven forbid, you are simply existing without an impressive job title to brandish.
Then you are likely to be introduced as “This is Esi, she is Pastor Kweku’s sister.” Meanwhile Esi is 35 years old, but she is introduced like a footnote to another person’s story. We unconsciously compressed her entire identity compressed into her relationship with a man of religion. Without that connection, the question that arises is, would anyone bother learning her name?
What makes this attitude really uncomfortable is that we treat God the same way.
Be honest. When did you last pray just to say hello? When did you last sit in silence with the Divine without a shopping list of requests? For most of us, prayer has become a cosmic customer service interaction. We are not interested in who God is. Honestly, many of us are interested only in what He can do for us.
That is why our relationship with Him is “Grant me this job,” “Heal my friend’s illness,” “Touch the hearts of the politicians so that fix our country,” etc. And when the prayers go unanswered? When the silence stretches? We react like disappointed consumers. “Where is God?” we demand. “If He is real, why is there so much suffering?” We would not readily accept is, but we have reduced the infinite to a divine vending machine: Insert prayer, receive blessing. And when the mechanism jams, we kick the machine and walk away, muttering about faulty service.
But what if we stopped? What if we introduced people the way my four-year-old boy does? “This is my daddy. His name is Kodwo?” No job title. No prestigious connections. Just the simple, radical act of seeing someone as a whole person.
What if, at the next party, someone introduced me as “Meet Kodwo, he loves crying at the sad scenes in movies.” Would the earth stop spinning? Would our nation go to war? Or maybe, we would we remember, perhaps, what we have forgotten, that every person has within him or herself an infinite complexity, infinite worth, infinite stories, none of which fit neatly on a business card.
Here is my challenge. For the rest of the year, introduce people without mentioning their jobs or their connections to important people. Maybe, you might see yourself struggle as you search for what makes that person relevant. But it will inspire you to observe them, to seek to know them in the ways they laugh, the kindness in their voice, and maybe the particular ways they see the world. That way, you will understand Esi does not need her brother’s pastorship to matter, and Kwame does not need a job title to be worthy of love. But more importantly, you do not need to be useful to be valuable. You just need to be…
Kodwo Brumpon is an executive coach at Polygon Oval, a forward-thinking Pan African management consultancy and social impact firm driven by data analytics, with a focus on understanding the extraordinary potential and needs of organisations and businesses to help them cultivate synergies, that catapults into their strategic growth, and certifies their sustainability.
Comments, suggestions, and requests for talks and training should be sent to him at [email protected]
The post The Attitude Lounge with Kodwo Brumpon: Being my job title appeared first on The Business & Financial Times.
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