So my cousin visited recently and he narrated a story to us about a co-worker who had gotten into the bad books of one of their bosses at work. His offence was simple.
The boss—sharp man of the town—was in a very good mood so he asked the young man—cousin’s co-worker—to accompany him to a joint to do some faaji. When they got there, the boss ordered for his first bottle of Harp and pepper soup. The guy ordered for a bottle of big stout and a plate of asun. The boss was still chilling with his first bottle; my guy ordered for the second bottle of stout. About twenty minutes later, the boss called for his second bottle and my guy called for his third. When the bartender was about to leave, correct-guy called him back and asked for a bowl of pepper soup too.
The boss did not say a word. When they were done eating, he paid and they left. Then boss walked to his car, opened it, slid in, started the car and prepared to drive off. My guy started hitting the door in panic, trying to get it open but he couldn’t. Yes, the boss had locked it. Apparently, they lived close to each other, so he didn’t even leave home with his wallet. He thought the boss would drop him near his house, but he had guessed wrong. Maybe the boss would have, but I think he felt it was best my guy trekked home. After all, wasn’t exercise beneficial to the body?
As the guy tried to open the door, he made hand signs to his “Oga” to help him out. Oga wound down the glass and said, “Why don’t you walk off the food?”
Was the boss wrong?
My brother’s recount made me remember Aunt Fisayo, who had come complaining to my mum some years back about how she had taken her younger cousin to a salon and then the girl’s expenses had ended up being more than hers. How that happened, I don’t know.
You know the one I find the most annoying? A boyfriend tells his babe “let’s hang out. I just want to be with you tonight,” and then babe lands at the meeting point with her entourage of three other babes, who have come to hang out with them, without informing her boyfriend.
These by-force entourage emerge in the sickest weaves, baba nla body cons, and very high stiletos, faces all made up, then proceed to order all the orderables and even ask for some to be taken away. Funny, isn’t it? My question is: How do you know he is capable of footing the bill of five people? Even if he can foot the bill, does he want the company?
Oh, some people defend themselves by saying: “After all, I was on my own jeje when he said he wanted to take me out. I didn’t force him, so why won’t I eat?”
I think sometimes being sensible helps a lot. It isn’t the food or money that person spends on you that day that would aid your entrance into the gates of heaven. So please, be wise.
Do not be rude. If you want to bring friends along on an outing with your partner, call him and suggest it, hear him out first before you take any action. If he’s cool with it, then fine. If not, don’t force things.
If an older person who isn’t so close to you takes you somewhere, be watchful. Don’t just order or make insane choices. Wait a while, see what the person does and then try to make sensible choices.
The mistake people make is they equate being sensible to being unreal, or forming. I believe there is a difference between the two. Wisdom, they say, is profitable to direct. The person invited you out, but it is still their money.
Do you think there’s an etiquette to eating out on people’s money? Isn’t it too stressful to keep track of these tings and we should all just abandon it and go dutch?
Featured Image via Flickr