A few years ago, I was about to enter a bank somewhere in South Africa when a little boy in front of me threw an empty fried chicken box to the ground. Instinctively, I asked the boy to pick up his litter and pointed to the bin. He got the message and complied. The boy’s mother gave me a furious look but seemed at a loss for words. What could she say? “Hey Malume, let my boy do madiro”?
I once had an SMS chat with the late 702 broadcaster, Eusebius McKaiser. I asked if he could debate the matter of social etiquette on his radio programme. He baulked at that and advised that it could be read as snobbery and could also be used to target certain demographics.
I am glad to say I am happy to be accused of being snobbish.
I hate litter. I do not understand why people litter when bins have been provided or where they can pack away their trash and dispose of it at designated points. What is the excuse of someone on some long-distance bus throwing their can or mealie-cob through the window?
Obnoxious behaviour is now a normal way of life. Let me present my charge sheet.
Driving with the kings of the urban jungle
Stepping out every day in either Harare or Johannesburg, one has to say a little prayer. The driving standards have plummeted. In Johannesburg, the main culprits are public taxi drivers who defy every road rule as they fly from one point of departure to their destination. For these invincible kings of the urban jungle, traffic lights are an inconvenience. Red means “Go”. Green means I can stop, block other traffic, and pick up or drop off passengers. Nothing fazes these kings. They can create an extra lane where none exists, and lo behold, should you slow their progress. One taxi bears the legend: “No seatbelts. We die like men.” The kings have now been joined by the bike delivery guys of Uber Eats, Mr D and the supermarkets. The bikers ride like rabbits whizzing and weaving recklessly on the streets. Once you spot them behind you at night with that menacing one light flashing at you, it is best to let them pass and keep a safe distance. The Highway Code or the K53 means nothing to these guys.
The pedestrians are no better. At an institution I am affiliated with, the students rarely walk facing oncoming traffic. If you are a fellow walker going in the opposite direction, they literally want to bump you off the path. Although they are young enough to be your child, your age is immaterial. Just last week, one of them was lying on some stairs, headphones on and scrolling their phone. To pass, I had to gently tap on the side in front of them, and even then, the student did not understand what exactly “my problem” was.
The forgotten art of letter writing
What has happened in our socialisation that we have created a generation of socially awkward people? Or is it just me being the weekly Jeremiah the Wailing Prophet?
There is certainly a generational difference. One young person I know once wrote an email to a very senior person whom they were engaging with for the very first time and signed it off with “Ta”. It was weird, but then I reflected that this was a generation that seems not to have ever been taught how to compose a letter in terms of proper salutation, paragraphing and signing off. Some emails read like a James Joyce novel – stream of consciousness.
This is the same generation that sends you a message with a simple “Hi” and leaves you hanging as to where exactly the conversation is going. To be fair, a couple of older loonies do this too. Can’t you get to the point, watermelon?
Restaurant etiquette
I could write a tome on how some of our family members and friends treat waiters, but let me just stick to one gripe. Why would you order food you can’t finish, or serve yourself a plate that you can’t clean up? If the food has turned you off, can you not request a doggy bag and then pass it to someone else who really needs a meal? People who are not footing the bills tend to be the most obnoxious – they nibble at the food, complain about this or that and shove the plate away. Let’s not talk about those at “free” workshops and conferences where their plates are like double-decker buses…
Clean your mess
Whether you are in pub, a stadium or a public institution a visit to the male toilet is something you try to delay as much as possible. At the institution I am affiliated with I have had to figure out which floor out of the 27 has the least utilised bathroom and which is regularly cleaned. It is that bad.
Men’s dirty habits follow them everywhere. They can sweat a bucket at the treadmill in the gym and then simply walk away when finished. You want to use the machine after them? Clean it yourself.
The surly supermarket cashier
I am sure supermarkets in Southern Africa have met and agreed on the standard attributes required of cashiers or till operators: rude, unsmiling, bored and uncooperative. Equally, the packer must not sort out your groceries, but can pack your meat together with washing powder. In South Africa, the rankings for “rude-meter” are as follows:
#1 = Shoprite – incorrigible and beyond redemption.
#2 = Checkers – permanent surly lips. Rudeness Incorporated.
#3 = Pick n Pay – inconsistent service, rarely can be bothered to go the extra mile.
#4 = Spar – depends on the branch so service not consistent across chain.
Woolworths staff tend to be well-trained and so are generally helpful.
The bad service is not confined to supermarkets. Fleecing customers through shoddy service is the norm on this beloved continent. Some fifteen years ago or so, I went into a Quick & Easy Internet Café at the corner of Julius Nyerere and Samora Machel. I wanted to print a one-page document. They took my money and pointed me to a PC to use. I duly sent my document to print, but there was a problem. The printer had no toner, so all it did was bring out a blank page. “Sorry, we can not refund you,” said the café staff member. I was outraged.
Suffice it to say they did give me back my money.
