Ademola H Adigun
I was at a party yesterday. At the small but well attended party were about 8 bank owners. You read it right. Eight of them are the largest shareholders in eight of our banks. 3 were current chairmen of banks.
Most are old school money. 5 of those bank owners were classmates at a prestigious old school. I had been in other functions. We had the politicians and at least two ex gubernatorial aspirants and one VP nominee.
There was not one policeman in the hall. There were no guns. None arrived with a siren. There was no high table. There was no recognition of anyone. You came, you found your seat and mingled if you wished.
I expected that. The host is a friend and mentor. I had three of my mentors in the room. People I consult for advice. I have never asked anyone of them for money nor intend to. Somehow, I have not needed them to introduce me to anyone. But I am certain , they would oblige.
These are men of class. Yes, gossip about one another and try in subtle ways to show each other they have arrived. Very subtle amusing ways for me
With the poorer crowd, there would have been noise. Fanfare. Announcements. So and so the founder of so and so. Then high table walks. Some would have hissed for not being recognized. “Do you know who I am?”
Poverty is the one that wears bling. That wishes people to know their worth. Poverty is not a lack of cash. But a way of thinking. It takes effort not to shout. I saw my host with an expensive watch yesterday. I had no time to tease him. I have associated him with a Swatch for years.
You can’t buy class. You have to think it. Then it becomes a habit.