The Nigerian Attitude

Unraveling the Culture of Complacency and Entitlement in Public and Private Sectors

To set things straight, I want to clarify that this post doesn’t take a political stance. Nevertheless, it’s insightful to reference a recent clash between Dave Umahi, the Minister of Works, and the civil servants from his ministry. In this encounter, the minister was pointedly shown the balance of power in their relationship. Amidst his address, he affirmed, “I cannot do without you, and you cannot do without me,” only to be cut off by a forceful interjection. To be sure he heard correctly, Umahi repeated what he suspected: “You can do without me, but I cannot do without you? YES!” was the emphatic response from the crowd. Umahi acknowledged this with a nod, his bewilderment evident. The contention arose after workers alleged they were barred from entry for arriving late to work. The scuffle unfolded publicly, with social media onlookers providing a spectrum of commentary. This prompts a broader inquiry: Beyond unforeseen circumstances, should a worker, whether private or government-owned, even report to work late?

Returning to the focus of this article: the Nigerian attitude.

The idea of penning this article has been on my mind for some time, but a blend of personal and professional demands left me too preoccupied — or perhaps too indolent — to replenish my pen’s ink. I have always thought Nigeria has an attitude — a very prominent one visible to the blind and loud to the deaf. Here, ‘attitude’ refers to the manner of conducting oneself in a professional context, which permeates every tier of Nigerian establishments, including healthcare, hospitality, retail, artisanal businesses, education, and even within the domestic sphere. Like in any society, individuals depart from their abodes to engage in their various occupations, striving to earn their keep. Intriguingly, I often encounter accolades describing Nigerians as among the “happiest people on earth.” This strikes me as paradoxical, given the prevalent association of the national demeanour with mediocrity. Considering the standard metrics of happiness — economic output per person, communal support, longevity of health, personal freedoms, altruism, and the level of corruption — it seems we might, in fact, rank as some of the least contented people.

But can one truly grasp the essence of the Nigerian attitude without firsthand experience? Only by stepping out, even if it’s just a single trip, to savour different realities can one truly comprehend the variance in global professional conduct.

So here’s my theory: Nigerians often struggle with compartmentalization. Never mind the big word; I mean, Nigerians haven’t learned the simple art of leaving their problems back at home when they resume work for the day. Imagine walking into a restaurant expecting a warm reception, only to be met with a grumpy look devoid of welcome. It’s plausible that the server was just reprimanded for lateness by their supervisor. In such a situation, you might witness this behaviour cascading down to other employees or, even worse, diminishing the dining experience for customers.

To elaborate with a personal tale, I’ve frequented Radisson Blu hotels in Ikeja, Lagos, and Nairobi, Kenya, and the experiences were as different as night and day. One might hastily attribute this to the sheer number of people each staff member serves, but my observations suggest there’s more to it. Upon arriving at Radisson Nairobi on Elgon Road, the security team greets you with infectious enthusiasm. Inside, the receptionist greets you with refreshments and convivial banter, contributing to the overall pleasant ambience that transcends the physical elegance of the hotel. Staff members there seem genuinely happy to assist without the faintest hint of expecting something in return. Conversely, my experience at Radisson Blu Ikeja was startlingly different. It was disconcerting to witness staff members embroiled in a dispute in full view of the guests. This conflict even spilt over into the dining area, where a heated exchange erupted without any regard for the onlooking patrons. Standing there, agape, I was struck by their disregard for decorum, an unexpected scene at such a reputed establishment as Radisson Blu.

Adding to this, my experiences at phone retail outlets in Kigali and Ikeja, Lagos, further illustrate the point. In Nigeria, there is a tendency for customer service to falter under critique. At the iPhone Store in Ikeja City Mall, staff indifference to customer complaints was evident. A co-customer’s grievance was met with a dismissive attitude, the staff’s irritation clear, and their service grudging at best. Conversely, the customer service at a renowned iStore was commendable in Kigali. A customer’s complaint about neglect was met with immediate action; the manager intervened, and the staff apologized with a smile, ensuring the customer felt heard and valued. This approach starkly contrasts with the experience in Ikeja, where staff members, instead of addressing complaints, often become defensive or indifferent.

Finding artisans who consistently exhibit professionalism throughout their service is uncommon in Nigeria. This scarcity of professional conduct may contribute to the guarded nature of Nigerians when dealing with one another. Over-familiarization often leads to a compromise in service quality, known colloquially as the “Paddy Paddy” treatment. A particularly memorable incident occurred during the recent renovation of my apartment in Lagos. Initially, the contractor exhibited professionalism, but as our interactions became more familiar, his work standards noticeably declined, becoming subpar. It was only after I reverted to a strictly professional demeanour that the quality of his service improved. This experience starkly contrasts with a friend’s account from Cairo, Egypt. There, artisans seem to have a deep-seated fear of losing their clients. Each contract is viewed as a chance to reaffirm their commitment to excellence, consistently providing top-notch professional services. This difference in approach between the two locations highlights the varying attitudes towards work and client satisfaction.

My experiences, alongside stories from friends who have travelled outside Nigeria, reveal a remarkable contrast in how people interact. Abroad, I usually maintain a calm and friendly disposition to see how each new meeting unfolds, smiling or remaining neutral only as the situation demands. This approach doesn’t seem to work back home in Nigeria, where there’s a pervasive expectation for tips or favours. Engagements with various professionals, from airline workers to airport officials, are often tainted with an air of expectancy for some sort of ‘appreciation.’ You hear “anything for the weekend” on every turn, even on a Tuesday. Declining to accede to these requests can often result in a blatant disregard for their duties. The neglect is evident, with a silent yet resounding indication that you’re on your own.

Back in Kenya, I also visited the Baobab Beach Resort in the Island city of Kilifi; the level of hospitality was impressive. The staff were genuinely eager to assist and showed a keen interest in learning from my visiting colleagues. And even when they seemed to have made a mistake in checking me into the wrong room of lower value than what I paid for, they managed the booking error gracefully, ensuring the issue was rectified and repeatedly assuring me of their high regard for guests. I was struck by how attentively the staff listened to any queries from guests. Whenever a guest showed up, all the staff present always had their attention fixed on the guest, portraying a warm and friendly demeanour.

Comparing this with my experience at one of the biggest resorts in Lagos, La Campagne Tropicana Beach Resort in Ibeju Lekki, I would say that the Nigerian attitude is quite prominent here. A resort with 65 acres of land, however, their service leaves so much to be desired. The welcoming procedures lacked enthusiasm, and while certain staff, like the horseman, went out of his way to offer above-and-beyond service for my children, this was an exception rather than the rule. The housekeeping staff appeared weary and seldom smiled, with bed linens unchanged for three days until I pointed it out. The difference in service ethos between the two resorts was not only apparent but also quite telling of the broader service culture in each location.

I remember scrolling through my X (formerly known as Twitter) and coming across a post that highlighted the importance of seemingly minor details in the workplace, like ensuring the availability of toilet tissue. The author used this absence as a metaphor for a company’s neglect of its culture. I find myself in agreement. I mean, the devil is in the detail. It’s often the small things that reveal the most about a company’s standards. For instance, during my stay at La Campagne resort, I noticed that the toilet tissue in my room was nearly depleted and wasn’t replaced for three days at a stretch, even though the cleaners reported daily tidying the apartment. This oversight seemed reflective of a larger issue of attentiveness.

On another occasion, while trying to find out how to rent their boat cruise service, the superior in charge there felt less concerned while she operated her phone. As her subordinate tried to get accurate info from her based on my request, she just waved it off without even interrupting her phone, pressing with, “Why are you asking me? Don’t you know where to find out?”. I mean, not even, ‘Oh yes, let me find out or connect with you the right person for your request”.

Still on my resort experience in Nigeria, during a kayaking adventure with my kids, I encountered yet another example of lacklustre service. The guides seemed intent on finding shortcuts to shorten the trip despite us having paid for a specific duration. This was yet another manifestation of what I’ve come to recognize as the typical Nigerian attitude to service. And then there was the food at the resort. The staff in the restaurant wouldn’t mind scraping the last bits from the serving trays, evidently to avoid the effort of refilling them. The quality of the meals left much to be desired, to the point where I found myself wishing for the option to cook our own food, especially considering the long 89-kilometre journey from my home to the resort. This entire experience seemed to encapsulate a broader issue of service and hospitality standards.

While digesting these experiences, I must say I wasn’t particularly shocked; it was the familiar Nigerian attitude manifesting itself. After all, if you visit any of the Nigerian Immigration Service (NIS) offices, you’ll get a glimpse of this. Despite signs stating, “No use of phones here.” One would expect that even the officials would adhere to their own rules, but this is never the case. I often find the staff engrossed in their phones while on duty. This disregard for their own regulations raises questions about the respect for citizens whose taxes fund their salaries. I understand they’d rather not be caught with their shoddiness to service or even extortion of the citizens through backdoor channels and prevalent roundtripping. Nothing to see here. I am often reminded by my subconscious—just the Nigerian attitude at play.

While discussing with a friend about the idea of penning down my thoughts on this issue, he reminded me of his experience at one of the NIS stations in Delta State. Just on the action of passport renewal, an official asked him to ‘celebrate’ the occasion. By now, you understand what I mean. The encounter at the Delta Immigration office and the general conduct in Nigerian Immigration Service (NIS) offices are telling examples of a broader issue. With its stringent rules and a sense of superiority, the NIS seems to view the public more as subjects than as citizens. This perception is evident in their expectation of receiving gifts for services rendered, treating their official responsibilities as if they were doing favours for the citizenry.

This sense of entitlement extends to the disregard for their own regulations, as seen in the widespread use of phones by staff during work hours despite clear prohibitions. This behaviour not only demonstrates a lack of professional discipline but also a profound disrespect for the citizens they serve, whose taxes contribute to their salaries. The irony is palpable: officials who should embody law and order are the very ones flouting basic workplace rules.

This attitude, unfortunately, is not an anomaly but a recurring theme across various public service sectors in Nigeria. It’s as if there’s an unspoken understanding that the rules are mere formalities, not to be taken seriously. The expectation of gratuities for performing basic duties further entrenches this culture of ‘high-handedness.’ The sad reality is that this is not just an isolated occurrence but a manifestation of the pervasive Nigerian attitude, a mindset I’m often painfully reminded of by these recurrent experiences.

Or was it the boat cruise in the seemingly upscale city of Lekki that I indulged in with my family recently? The Nigerian attitude was eminently plastered right from the gate. The neglect and disorder were apparent from the entrance. From the moment you get in to board your jetty, the place is in shambles. The average notion is that you must be able to afford at least a three square meal round in Nigeria to want to board a cruise just for the fun of it. In a different setting, guests would be greeted with drinks and entertainment, perhaps even upsold additional services in a typical capitalist fashion. But in Nigeria, these opportunities seem to be overlooked, perceived more as a hassle than a potential revenue stream.

This pervasive Nigerian attitude is frustratingly common, even in services like Airbnb, where Nigerians and its real estate sector have found to be another revenue stream. From my experience, hosts often appear surprised by significant issues that should have been addressed before listing their property. The frequency with which I have to hear, “Could you please just manage? We’ll have this fixed next time,” is baffling. It seems there’s a general indifference to the potential negative impact on their reputation. This attitude, deeply ingrained in many aspects of Nigerian life, continues to be a source of irritation for me.

Recognizing the danger of becoming what I critique without self-awareness, I constantly remind my assistant of the importance of attention to detail. It’s essential to question even the smallest anomalies, like an incorrectly blinking LED light. I often ponder over simple yet significant questions: Why are things the way they are? Can they be improved? How could I have communicated more effectively with a client? This mindset was reinforced during a recent Masterclass with Paystack’s co-founder and CEO, Shola Akinlade, where he emphasized the importance of asking “WHY?” For instance, why are debits instantaneous while refunds take an excruciating 21 days, causing customer frustration? In Nigeria, those who concern themselves with such questions are often viewed as outliers.

This perspective is starkly evident in everyday transactions. Paying for a service and receiving substandard results is common, and the vendor’s surprise at insistence on specifications being met is almost predictable. The typical response is a plea to “manage” the situation. Such experiences have fueled my decision to pursue a career in technology after university. I saw tech as a means to implement and scale solutions independently of government intervention. I firmly believe that the pervasive ‘Nigerian attitude’ originates from the top, with government and public officers setting the tone that cascades down to the populace. The question arises when observing substandard infrastructure work, such as a road contractor completing a drainage project, only for it to be filled with sand, debris, and waste even before its official commissioning. What emboldens a contractor to consider such a job complete? Although there may be no structural defects, the very purpose of the drainage is defeated by the obstruction caused by this debris. This situation reflects a broader issue of accountability and attention to detail in project execution, questioning the standards and expectations set for such important public works.

Some might interpret my recounting of these experiences as an exercise in criticizing Nigeria rather than an expression of patriotism. This viewpoint is reminiscent of what I often encounter on social media, where individuals laud unhealthy policies under the guise of promoting a positive image for international optics. I see this as a kind of misguided optimism. Just as the field of economics is driven by merit rather than optimism, a nation’s success on the global stage, be it in hospitality or any other sector, hinges on tangible performance and attitude. As I have described, the prevalent Nigerian attitude hinders our ability to compete effectively with the rest of the world, holding us back from realizing our full potential.

This ‘faux optimism’ is a disservice to genuine progress. Praising policies and practices that are inherently flawed simply to maintain a favourable external image is akin to putting a band-aid on a deep wound. It’s a temporary fix that ignores the underlying issues. For Nigeria to truly stand shoulder-to-shoulder with other nations, there must be a fundamental shift in this attitude. We must embrace a culture of merit, where excellence and professionalism are the norms, not exceptions. Only then can we hope to match or even surpass global standards in hospitality and beyond.

Entrepreneurs determined to shift the prevailing narrative must remain ever-vigilant, steadfastly guarding against the encroachment of the Nigerian Attitude within their businesses. A crucial strategy is the continuous evaluation and improvement of services rendered. This constant oversight ensures that service employees remain diligent, as complacency or a lapse in service quality can quickly erode customer trust and loyalty. However, the approach shouldn’t be solely punitive; it’s equally important to recognize and reward employees who consistently deliver exceptional service.

The recruitment process plays a pivotal role in this endeavour. Beyond impressive resumes and isolated instances of competence shown during interviews, entrepreneurs should seek candidates whose ethos aligns with the company’s vision of excellence. Establishing a robust work culture transcends regular training; it involves immersive experiences. Taking employees to environments where exemplary service is the norm can be enlightening and inspiring. Consider organizing retreats or field visits to places renowned for their outstanding service. Such experiences can serve as powerful catalysts, motivating employees to aspire to and maintain high standards of professionalism and customer service in their daily roles.