Banking on a Monday: A Test of Endurance
There was a time in my life when Monday mornings meant one thing: a trip to the bank with the Sunday offering from church. Sounds routine—but in reality, it was a full-blown expedition.
I’d arrive early, but never early enough. A crowd was always already there outside the banking hall, waiting for the 8:30 a.m. opening. It was even worse around school opening dates. Most banks hadn’t introduced customer chairs yet, so standing was the default. You could feel the collective impatience building. The staff often took their time settling in, and the queues moved slower than a Monday mood.
Just When It’s Almost My Turn…
Like clockwork, just as I was about to be served, the queue would stall. A customer with a complex, never-ending issue would hold up the line. Then, as if on cue, the Securicor team would show up with their heavy-duty sacks of cash. Of course, they had priority. That meant my whole morning could vanish while the deposit remained untouched in my handbag.
Queues and Compassion Don’t Always Go Together
I often thought of pregnant women or the elderly in those queues. The standing wasn’t the hardest part—it was the lack of empathy from fellow customers. I remember during one election season when I was expectant, and we were given priority to vote. The murmurs from behind us still ring in my ears.
“That’s for your leisure—don’t inconvenience us. Having babies is fun.”
Those words stuck. The discomfort of standing for hours was one thing, but the coldness in people’s voices was something else. It was uncomfortable, yes—but also oddly amusing. The way people could turn something as natural and noble as motherhood into a punchline just to protect their place in a queue made me shake my head and chuckle, even as my back ached and my feet swelled.
The Baby-Swapping Tactic
At the same voting centre, mothers with babies were being allowed to vote first. It didn’t take long before people started passing babies between one another just to cut the queue. Eventually, election officials started marking the babies’ thumbs too—because even infants weren’t safe from our cleverness. Only in Kenya!
When Queues Turn Deadly
Then there’s a memory that still sends chills down my spine. Years ago, there was a big Christmas concert at one of Nairobi’s most popular venues. Young people from all corners came to attend. The queues were long, excitement high, and security overstretched. Just before midnight, fireworks lit the sky—and panic broke out. The crowd surged forward in chaos. A stampede. Three lives were lost that night.
All because we never really learned how to wait well.
Final Thoughts: More Than Just a Line
Long queues are not just a test of patience—they’re a test of systems, empathy, and how we manage people under pressure. Whether it’s a bank, a polling station, or a concert gate, the line we stand in is never just a line. It tells a quiet story about who we are when we think no one is watching.
That’s all from the queue today—catch you in the next reflection! Don’t forget your patience.
Leave a Reply