Picture this: a 22-year-old fresh out of university, nervous as can be, standing at the base of the towering headquarters of South Africa’s biggest dairy company. That was me. Armed with a brand-new IT degree and living at home with my parents, I was about to embark on my first corporate job. I walked up those imposing stairs, my heart pounding in my chest. Everything about that day felt overwhelming-the grandeur of the building, the sea of suited professionals, and the terrifying thought that I might not belong.
Someone from HR came to fetch me and introduced me to my manager. Now, let me give you some context: growing up Afrikaans, I was taught to always address people older than me as “oom” (uncle) or “tannie” (aunt). It’s just what we did-a mark of respect drilled into us from birth. So, when I met my new manager, a podgy man with graying hair, I smiled nervously, extended my hand, and said, “Hallo, Oom.” His expression was… a mix of surprise and amusement. Let’s just say I learned very quickly that the corporate world doesn’t run on Afrikaans etiquette.
A few weeks into the job, I decided to join the company gym. On my first day at the gym, I noticed an older gentleman sweating it out on the treadmill. Being polite, as I was raised, I struck up a conversation. “Do you also work for the company, Oom?” I asked. He smiled warmly and replied, “Yes.” Curious, I continued, “And what do you do?” He chuckled and said, “I’m the janitor.”
“Oh, that’s nice,” I said, genuinely trying to make conversation, before introducing myself and moving on to my workout. I’d see him around every so often, and we’d exchange friendly greetings. One day, though, I spotted him emerging from the boardroom in a sharp black suit and red tie. People were lining up to shake his hand, and everyone seemed extremely formal. I was confused. Then he saw me, walked over, and-to my horror and delight-gave me a big hug.
“You’re not the janitor, are you?” I blurted out, my face going crimson. He just smiled that same warm smile and walked away. It was only later that I discovered that “Oom John” was, in fact, the Managing Director of the entire company. The MD! And yet, for all his status, he never corrected me when I called him “oom” or assumed he was the janitor. From that day forward, every time we crossed paths, he’d greet me with a hug, and I’d blush furiously while muttering, “Hello, Oom John.”
He retired years later, but the nickname stuck. I learned a lot from Oom John-about humility, kindness, and the fact that titles don’t define a person. He could’ve easily put me in my place during our first encounter, but he chose not to. Instead, he let me learn in my own time, with grace and good humour.
Looking back, my first year in corporate was a whirlwind of lessons, mistakes, and moments that still make me cringe and laugh in equal measure. But that’s the beauty of it, isn’t it? Every misstep and every “oom” moment become a story-a memory that shapes who you are and how you navigate the world.
So, here’s to Oom John and all the unexpected mentors who teach us what no textbook ever could.