The Madam Agatha Mentality 1

When I met my primary school teacher after sixteen years, I was so happy about the experience. My happiness was short lived. I’d tell you why… 

So my class three teacher wasn’t my best teacher. We had good times and bad times. Like when she lashed me for being late. That was a bad time. I explained to her that it wasn’t my fault, that my mum had an emergency. 

She called me liar, and spank my butt. I cried almost all day. Good times, especially, when she called my name to read on the board, and would patiently wait for me to read, and correct all my errors. She had that patient spirit. And I loved it. 


But today, I’m working as a senior analyst with Starast Company Limited. My first day of work was pretty awesome. I’d been brilliant in school since my primary days and me having a first class honors in statistics was something I was heavily proud of. 

I went to work and assumed my seat. Workers trooped in to my desk area to give me welcome messages. Apparently it’s a tradition they hold and do for every single new worker. 

Madam Agatha came in to welcome me. Her face beamed with amazement. 

‘Hilda!!! You’ve grown so big, I knew this girl oh, small girl, my student, oh fine’. 

She wanted everyone to know she’d taught me. That even wasn’t a problem. The next few days were almost unbearable for me, even months. 

As a senior analyst, everyone was to report to me, the detail of their daily activity and how they were handling information from companies we worked with. The detail of this task was so intense that I had to be as strict and firm as possible to correct the mistakes my colleagues brought to me. 

Madam Agatha, now a data collector, had developed a new attitude towards me. In her mind, I was still that student she taught some years ago. She decided to keep her data and analysis till I came to her desk for it. 

The first week, I tried to ignore her attitude and kept on smiling, telling her not to worry if she couldn’t bring me her external hard disk with the data and the report. 

In my mind, I thought she was slow and gave her the benefit of the doubt. Until I heard a conversation between Agatha and another colleague. 

‘Aga, why don’t you send your things to Senior Analyst anymore? I thought you were usually the first to complete?’ 

‘Ah, Sewor, why should I do that? Huh, this small girl today’s my boss. I don’t have to do that, even when I want to send her, I can comfortably do that’. 

Sewor was shocked. He shook his head and ended the rather unpleasant conversation. 

I came out of the washroom, and saw the two leaving. I didn’t get angry. I was mad. So, Madam Agatha hadn’t grown out of this teacher thing. And was ready to send me to buy her food. 

The next day, as she sat behind her desk I walked in and said hello instead of the regular good morning she’d expected. 

‘You started greeting hello, who taught you those manners?’ 

Her tone was harsh. 

Other workers looked at me, waiting for my response. 

I smiled and left. 

A week later, Agatha approached me and asked me to wear longer skirts. My skirts to her were too short and I was distracting the other guys. 

‘As a lady you should be decent’. I smiled

‘But you koraa where do you stay’. She asked me. 

‘I’m at Madina’. I replied. 

‘Oh, buy me waakye on your way here tomorrow’. She instructed. 

‘Yes, I think you would pass where I stand and pick a cab to work. I’d walk there and wait. Hope it’s no bother’. 

Now I was furious. 

She asked Freda and Renee to feel free and order if they wanted some of the waakye. She told them not to worry, her small girl would buy it for them. 

You can’t imagine my feeling…  

I’d tell you what I did in the next few days… 
Photo credit: http://www.dailytargum.com/article/2015/09/rutgers-students-introduced-to-not-anymore-sexual-assault-awareness-education-initiative 

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