A Tale of Two Anthony’s
Qatar is a study of contrasts. This was brought to my attention most recently by an acquaintance I work with.
Not too long ago, all of ExxonMobil in Qatar consolidated their satellite offices into one location. This new building is a marked improvement from most everyone’s previous location, but moving is never without its hiccups and irritations. In this case, we were plagued by constant construction, maze-like entrances, haphazard parking, and long elevator waits, but the thing that seemed to rattle people the most were the security checks. These were not turnstiles or card readers, but actual people whose sole responsibility was to ensure that you had the right kind of badge.
One such badge reader would have been sufficient, but not for ExxonMobil. We decided it necessary to have card readers hiding behind doorways, waiting for you when you come out of elevators, cutting you off before you even enter the building. It almost seemed that there were more card readers than employees. This constant harassment for badge verification caused migraines to all, but it did produce some good in my case.
After a long day of dealing with these badgers, I found myself standing in the elevator lobby waiting to go home. “Can I see your badge,” I hear almost as background noise, and I turn my badge in that direction. To my surprise, the badger was not asking for reasons of security, but because of curiosity. His name was Anthony as well. The badgers are 99% from India, Nepal, or Sri Lanka, and typically do not have Western names, so to have a common name was a commonality enough to break the ice that had unknowingly formed between us. I discovered that Anthony was from Sri Lanka, that he worked in Saudi Arabia, then at a US base in Bahrain, before settling here in Qatar. We talked about my life in the States, and how, despite appearances I have never called Africa my home. Over the next couple of weeks we would catch up whenever his rotation caused us to cross paths.
Last night was a bit different than usual however. As I was leaving the building, I caught his eye and he seemed a little more excited than usual to see me. After our small talk, he asked me what time I was coming to work tomorrow morning. A little suspect of the question, I asked him why he wanted to know. He said that he wanted me to talk with his sister, in person or on the phone I could not tell, but strange nonetheless. When I asked him why he wanted me to talk with his family, his faced turned very solemn and he proceeded to tell me a story. He told me about his mom who has turned very ill and who is in intensive care, and how his sisters are so busy looking after her and the children that things have gotten pretty bad at home. I listened, but with an increasing sense of dread. As the story went on, I could take the suspense no longer, and I interrupted him with the question that danced unsaid between his lips “how much?” After explaining his situation one or two more times without answering my question, I asked him again. This time he paused and said 1000 Riyals.
Seeing my hesitancy, he went on to explain that he does not want me to give him the money, he wants me to loan him the money. It would take him two months time to pay me back he went on, but the money now would allow him to pay his mothers hospital bills. He assured me this would be a one time thing, because sadly, his mother was ill to the point that she will not be able to stay alive much longer even with the hospital’s help. I told him that I would think about it overnight, and that 1000 Riyals was no small sum. He made me promise that we keep this secret, and we parted.
As I walked away, I thought that he knows that fact more than I do. I make more than what he requested in a day, whereas it would take him a month to do the same. More than sympathy I felt irritation, because he had just taken our pseudo friendship and turned it on its head. As much as I would like to compare it to the Seinfeld where Jerry is asked by a recent acquaintance to help him move… the move is territory of good friends and families, an acquaintance can’t break protocol; this was clearly different. This was more than just an outsized request from someone I barely know, it was an exposure of the lines that separated my world from his. I, and westerners like me, have the power to drastically affect the lives of people like him. Whether he used that money to help his mother or spent it on booze and prostitutes, what is ‘small change’ to me can change his lifestyle.
In the few seconds it took for my irritation to come and go, I had come to my answer. I would not give him the 1000 Riyals, or even a 100 Riyals for that matter. Giving money would set precedence… I could use the cash myself… I did not particularly believe his story… nor did I believe I would ever see that money again… all these were reasons, but none were the deciding factor. I simply did not feel it was my responsibility. For every emotional pull saying “its not that much money” or “you could possibly bring a family happiness” there was a rational cynicism saying “he thinks he’s got you hustled” or “this is going to happen once a week so you better get used to it”. But like I said, I did not feel it was my responsibility to change this man’s life.
The next morning I nervously approached the building, fearing the awkward encounter. But he was nowhere to be seen. I thought I was clear, but not long after getting settled in my office, Anthony showed up at my doorway. It was surprisingly easy for me to tell him no, not nearly the anxiety or guilt I expected. I simply shook my head while telling him I was not going to be able to help. He smiled and nodded, and backed out of the office as silently as he had come. I am not even sure that he got to hear my closing argument of “we could both get in a lot of trouble if someone found out.” Which, although true, was an irrelevant factor in my decision. Once alone again, I thought of the words that he did hear, and pained slightly from their inaccuracy. “I am not going to be able to help.” Making it sound like it was beyond my control, when it was my decision and I could have helped if I wanted. But in my moment of discontent, I thought of the absurd but accurate statement that could have taken its place, “I do not want to help you.” Sometimes there is no place for the truth.
….
The funny thing is that I DO want to change the world (more than anything else in life), but never by that one person at a time method. I am sure you have heard this story of the girl and the starfish. A girl and her father walk along a beach not long after a big storm. Much to the child’s anguish, the storm had washed up countless starfish upon the beach. Her father expressed his sympathy and kept walking, but soon he noticed the girl had not followed. Turning back he sees her carrying starfish back to the ocean, one at a time. The father tries to dissuade her by telling her, “there is no way you can save all of these starfish, there is just not enough light in the day”. The girl agrees, but continues her effort saying, “I might not be able to save them all, but I can save THIS one and THAT one and the next one after that.”
I commend the girl with the starfish, I think she is sweet, but I am more like the father. Where I differ is in what I would do next. If I wanted to help the starfish, I would tell the girl that we can better use our time organizing the other people along the boardwalk. With her cute face and my knack for persuasion, we can get a hundred people out here scooping up starfish in no time at all. Then random passerbyers will see our efforts and want to join in as well. Before we know it, we will have them all cleaned up. That’s what I would do… if I cared about the starfish.
So I tell myself that I am a big picture world saver, and that I cannot get caught up in the individual. The problem with this viewpoint is that the world is made up of individuals, and to get the world moving you have to begin with somebody or someone. There must be a balance in all things. I hope my decision to reject Anthony’s request was not a rejection of my own wants in life as well.
Not too long ago, all of ExxonMobil in Qatar consolidated their satellite offices into one location. This new building is a marked improvement from most everyone’s previous location, but moving is never without its hiccups and irritations. In this case, we were plagued by constant construction, maze-like entrances, haphazard parking, and long elevator waits, but the thing that seemed to rattle people the most were the security checks. These were not turnstiles or card readers, but actual people whose sole responsibility was to ensure that you had the right kind of badge.
One such badge reader would have been sufficient, but not for ExxonMobil. We decided it necessary to have card readers hiding behind doorways, waiting for you when you come out of elevators, cutting you off before you even enter the building. It almost seemed that there were more card readers than employees. This constant harassment for badge verification caused migraines to all, but it did produce some good in my case.
After a long day of dealing with these badgers, I found myself standing in the elevator lobby waiting to go home. “Can I see your badge,” I hear almost as background noise, and I turn my badge in that direction. To my surprise, the badger was not asking for reasons of security, but because of curiosity. His name was Anthony as well. The badgers are 99% from India, Nepal, or Sri Lanka, and typically do not have Western names, so to have a common name was a commonality enough to break the ice that had unknowingly formed between us. I discovered that Anthony was from Sri Lanka, that he worked in Saudi Arabia, then at a US base in Bahrain, before settling here in Qatar. We talked about my life in the States, and how, despite appearances I have never called Africa my home. Over the next couple of weeks we would catch up whenever his rotation caused us to cross paths.
Last night was a bit different than usual however. As I was leaving the building, I caught his eye and he seemed a little more excited than usual to see me. After our small talk, he asked me what time I was coming to work tomorrow morning. A little suspect of the question, I asked him why he wanted to know. He said that he wanted me to talk with his sister, in person or on the phone I could not tell, but strange nonetheless. When I asked him why he wanted me to talk with his family, his faced turned very solemn and he proceeded to tell me a story. He told me about his mom who has turned very ill and who is in intensive care, and how his sisters are so busy looking after her and the children that things have gotten pretty bad at home. I listened, but with an increasing sense of dread. As the story went on, I could take the suspense no longer, and I interrupted him with the question that danced unsaid between his lips “how much?” After explaining his situation one or two more times without answering my question, I asked him again. This time he paused and said 1000 Riyals.
Seeing my hesitancy, he went on to explain that he does not want me to give him the money, he wants me to loan him the money. It would take him two months time to pay me back he went on, but the money now would allow him to pay his mothers hospital bills. He assured me this would be a one time thing, because sadly, his mother was ill to the point that she will not be able to stay alive much longer even with the hospital’s help. I told him that I would think about it overnight, and that 1000 Riyals was no small sum. He made me promise that we keep this secret, and we parted.
As I walked away, I thought that he knows that fact more than I do. I make more than what he requested in a day, whereas it would take him a month to do the same. More than sympathy I felt irritation, because he had just taken our pseudo friendship and turned it on its head. As much as I would like to compare it to the Seinfeld where Jerry is asked by a recent acquaintance to help him move… the move is territory of good friends and families, an acquaintance can’t break protocol; this was clearly different. This was more than just an outsized request from someone I barely know, it was an exposure of the lines that separated my world from his. I, and westerners like me, have the power to drastically affect the lives of people like him. Whether he used that money to help his mother or spent it on booze and prostitutes, what is ‘small change’ to me can change his lifestyle.
In the few seconds it took for my irritation to come and go, I had come to my answer. I would not give him the 1000 Riyals, or even a 100 Riyals for that matter. Giving money would set precedence… I could use the cash myself… I did not particularly believe his story… nor did I believe I would ever see that money again… all these were reasons, but none were the deciding factor. I simply did not feel it was my responsibility. For every emotional pull saying “its not that much money” or “you could possibly bring a family happiness” there was a rational cynicism saying “he thinks he’s got you hustled” or “this is going to happen once a week so you better get used to it”. But like I said, I did not feel it was my responsibility to change this man’s life.
The next morning I nervously approached the building, fearing the awkward encounter. But he was nowhere to be seen. I thought I was clear, but not long after getting settled in my office, Anthony showed up at my doorway. It was surprisingly easy for me to tell him no, not nearly the anxiety or guilt I expected. I simply shook my head while telling him I was not going to be able to help. He smiled and nodded, and backed out of the office as silently as he had come. I am not even sure that he got to hear my closing argument of “we could both get in a lot of trouble if someone found out.” Which, although true, was an irrelevant factor in my decision. Once alone again, I thought of the words that he did hear, and pained slightly from their inaccuracy. “I am not going to be able to help.” Making it sound like it was beyond my control, when it was my decision and I could have helped if I wanted. But in my moment of discontent, I thought of the absurd but accurate statement that could have taken its place, “I do not want to help you.” Sometimes there is no place for the truth.
….
The funny thing is that I DO want to change the world (more than anything else in life), but never by that one person at a time method. I am sure you have heard this story of the girl and the starfish. A girl and her father walk along a beach not long after a big storm. Much to the child’s anguish, the storm had washed up countless starfish upon the beach. Her father expressed his sympathy and kept walking, but soon he noticed the girl had not followed. Turning back he sees her carrying starfish back to the ocean, one at a time. The father tries to dissuade her by telling her, “there is no way you can save all of these starfish, there is just not enough light in the day”. The girl agrees, but continues her effort saying, “I might not be able to save them all, but I can save THIS one and THAT one and the next one after that.”
I commend the girl with the starfish, I think she is sweet, but I am more like the father. Where I differ is in what I would do next. If I wanted to help the starfish, I would tell the girl that we can better use our time organizing the other people along the boardwalk. With her cute face and my knack for persuasion, we can get a hundred people out here scooping up starfish in no time at all. Then random passerbyers will see our efforts and want to join in as well. Before we know it, we will have them all cleaned up. That’s what I would do… if I cared about the starfish.
So I tell myself that I am a big picture world saver, and that I cannot get caught up in the individual. The problem with this viewpoint is that the world is made up of individuals, and to get the world moving you have to begin with somebody or someone. There must be a balance in all things. I hope my decision to reject Anthony’s request was not a rejection of my own wants in life as well.
posted by Anthony Jackson at 4:59 AM
1 Comments:
I probably would have given the man the money just that once. And if he asked again, explain that you have not paid back first what you owe. But that's me. I don't think this will take away what you want to change in life but a giving spirit will be needed to change the world and not just a rational one.
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