On fading standards of professionalism in our country

I am fully aware that drawing broad conclusions about a society based on anecdotal incidents, or even limited evidence, is not rigorous science. So let me begin with a clear disclaimer: what I am about to share is simply a personal hypothesis, one that would ideally need proper statistical research to be validated.

At the same time, as individuals, we often have to form our impressions and instincts based on our own experiences and whatever limited evidence we can reasonably observe. This does not automatically make such impressions wrong or misleading; they can still point toward patterns that deserve careful and objective investigation.

So what on earth am I talking about?

I am talking about our seemingly lackluster standards of professionalism, as experienced in ordinary, day-to-day life.

This troubling observation is not meant as an accusation or a sweeping condemnation of our country. It is more a quiet, recurring thought that has been forming in my mind over time. Let me explain by sharing what happened to me on one ordinary day last week, a day in which I went out, mingled with people, and encountered a few small incidents that made me wonder whether this behavioural pattern is indeed real.

A taxi ride

One morning, I got into a taxi for an extended journey that would take up the full day. It was with what most people consider the country’s top “luxury” taxi service provider. What’s more, I knew the driver quite well. He is a stickler for rules (which is a good thing) and I always make sure to book him through the official channels.

That morning, both my wife and I received a message from the service provider saying that there was a 15% seasonal discount, meant to encourage hires under the prevailing difficult economic circumstances. We were told to enter a code in the app when booking, and the discount would be reflected in the final fare.

I made the mistake of casually mentioning this to my driver friend while booking the ride through the official app, right in front of him.

Mind you, this is a very polite older gentleman, someone I would feel safe with at all times. But his face fell almost instantly, and before I could even finish my sentence, he blurted out:

“That’s going to be cut from us drivers.”

I was slightly startled by his reaction, especially since we usually tip him a couple of thousand rupees extra beyond the meter after a full day’s ride. I gently suggested that the company would probably absorb at least part of the loss and that there must be a compelling reason behind the discount, perhaps an attempt to increase dwindling hires under high-price conditions.

But he remained politely adamant. The company was exploiting them, he insisted.

Since this is someone we value beyond a mere transactional relationship, I told him to relax and said that I would simply give him the discounted amount as a tip so that he would not lose anything and would, in fact, gain slightly more than his usual due share. The tension eased, and we went on with the day’s ride, and he seemed perfectly comfortable with the arrangement.

Yet the incident lingered in my mind.

A lunch order

Later that same day, we stopped at a restaurant in OGF for lunch, a place known for serving good, healthy food. I picked up the menu and began speaking.

“This lunch menu, the ri—”

I was firmly cut short by a polite-looking server with a quick, almost defensive response:

“We don’t have that!”

I tried again.

“No, I mean this rice and—”

“No, we don’t have fried rice today!”

I paused for a moment, then pointed directly at the item and asked calmly:

“You have rice and curry, right?”

He hesitated, then replied, “Yes sir, we have that.”

The food that arrived was excellent, fresh, well-cooked, and satisfying. We enjoyed it very much, and we even left the poor fellow a tip.

Again, nothing dramatic had happened. No rudeness, no hostility. Just a small but noticeable lack of patient listening and basic communication, a kind of defensive reflex that prevented a simple interaction from flowing smoothly.

A power cut

That evening, just as we were about to go to bed, there was a sudden power cut in our area. The supply went off for about a minute and then came back on.

“Oh, that’s lucky! Nothing to worry about,” I thought, as I tried to fall asleep.

But throughout the night and into the following morning, the same thing kept happening; the power going off briefly and coming back on again, nearly fifteen times in total.

By the next afternoon, although I was busy, I finally lost my patience and called the power service provider.

“Madam, what is happening in our area can damage sensitive equipment. When is this going to stop?”

She politely promised that an engineer would call back. Someone did call within five minutes.

“Sir, I am very sorry,” he explained. “The truth is that we are balancing lines under the current stressed circumstances, and we have to interrupt power briefly to change lines and ensure that the overall grid remains balanced.”

I replied, “So are you not going to inform residents of this emergency, so they can take protective action to save sensitive equipment? When are you going to stop this extreme measure?”

After a short pause, he said rather reluctantly:

“We are going to stop now. Its over for today, Sir. But we can’t be sure about the future.”

The strange thing is that there were no more such interruptions after that call. Not that day, and not afterward.

Once again, the issue was not the technical difficulty of the situation. It was the lack of proactive communication and consideration for those affected.

A wider pattern

These are just three random incidents from more or less a single day. Taken individually, they are trivial. But when viewed across a longer timeline, similar patterns appear in many different forms.

The server in a restaurant who picks up the biggest piece of meat, only to let it slide back into the bowl before placing a bone on your plate instead.

The neighbour who burns plastic daily despite the existence of a regular garbage collection service.

The Internet Service Provider who consistently provides inconsistent bandwidth, accompanied by subtle, minute-by-minute interruptions, and substandard average speeds.

The cabinet minister who casually says in Parliament that we do not need to worry about the Strait of Hormuz being blocked, only to be proven wrong days later.

The politicians and religious leaders who gaslight us by saying that the mastermind behind the Easter atrocity in 2019 “has to be somehow found,” while effectively absolving Baghdadi and Zahran of their pivotal and already established role.

In each case, the common thread seems similar: a limited awareness, or limited concern, about how one’s unprofessional words and actions affect fellow citizens.

Not always malicious. Not always dishonest. But often narrow, careless, and inward-looking.

We seem, at times, to operate within small personal or institutional bubbles, prioritising immediate interests, defensive reactions, or parochial agendas over fairness, clarity, and responsibility toward others.

We are, perhaps, a somewhat cussed lot.

Or am I being unfair?

Perhaps I am a simpleton imagining life in some utopian society and, in doing so, becoming unfairly critical of my own good fellow citizens.

Or am I?

Is it not somewhat strange though, that some ordinary-looking restaurants in Pettah, and certainly all wayside restaurants I've been to in a few other countries, serve food generously, and communicate with customers more clearly?

Is it entirely a superior head start that allowed south asian nations like Vietnam, Indonesia or even Malaysia to remain resilient and avoid full scale economic crises in the recent post-COVID past?

From what I've learned, its we who had a head start at independence in 1948. Perhaps there is something deeper at work, something that lies in countless small daily behaviours: in how seriously people take their roles, how fairly they treat strangers, how clearly they communicate, and how much they care about the impact of their actions on others.

A little hypothesis

So this is my little hypothesis.

Before we can become a more resilient and prosperous nation, there may need to be a quiet but meaningful shift in our collective mindset, our zeitgeist; a stronger commitment to professionalism, fairness, communication, and responsibility in everyday jobs and life.

Not grand reforms. Not dramatic revolutions. Not sweeping ideological battles. 

Just small, consistent acts of integrity in daily interactions.

Because nations are not built only through policies, infrastructure, or economic plans.

They are built through habits.

And habits begin with ordinary people, on ordinary days, in taxis, restaurants, homes, offices, and public institutions, choosing, again and again, to do the small things right.

I am certain I too have slipped up at one time or another in this regard, and I wish there were a stronger motivation among us, driven by a sense of common cause.