When Idriss got posted to a private company in Accra for his national service, he was excited. With a degree in statistics, he imagined himself crunching numbers, running reports, and gaining real-world experience that would prepare him for the future.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
However, it didn\u2019t take long for reality to set in. Instead of working on data, he and his fellow service personnel often found themselves on errands. \u201cPlease, can you run to the pharmacy for me?\u201d one colleague would say. Another would ask, \u201cIdriss, help me grab something from the shop downstairs.\u201d At first, he thought it was just once in a while. But soon, it became routine.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The more it happened, the more uncomfortable Idriss became. He respected his seniors, but deep inside, he felt shortchanged. \u201cI didn\u2019t spend four years in school just to deliver groceries,\u201d he thought. He wanted to contribute meaningfully, to learn, to leave at the end of the year with something more than memories of running errands.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Yet, as many Ghanaian workers know, speaking up can be tricky. In our culture, respect for authority runs deep, and national service personnel are often seen as \u201csmall boys and girls.\u201d The fear of being tagged as disrespectful kept Idriss quiet.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
One afternoon, after returning from yet another errand, he made a quiet decision. Instead of complaining, he would look for opportunities to prove his value. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
Then came the turning point. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
During a staff meeting, Idriss overheard his boss struggling with data for a report. His heart raced. \u201cThis is my chance.\u201d Summoning courage, he volunteered to help. That night, he stayed late, cleaning up the data and presenting a neat, precise analysis.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The next morning, the office buzzed with surprise. The same Idriss who fetched food was also the Idriss who could break down numbers better than most. From that day, colleagues still sent him on the occasional errand, but now they also sought his input on serious work. He wasn\u2019t just the \u201cservice boy\u201d anymore, he was a valued teammate.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The Buzz<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n In the Ghanaian workplace, national service can test your patience. But Idriss\u2019s story is proof: you may start by running errands, but how you end depends on the courage to show what else you can do.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Errands Are Not an Insult<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n Lately, social media has been buzzing with a controversial narrative: \u201cDon\u2019t let anyone send you on errands at work. You\u2019re not there to be an errand boy or girl.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n It sounds empowering, doesn\u2019t it? But let\u2019s pause for a second. Is it really that simple?<\/p>\n\n\n\n But here\u2019s the truth we often miss: there is nothing absolutely wrong with going on errands for your boss or senior colleagues. The Ghanaian workplace, like our culture, is built on hierarchy and respect for the elderly. Running an errand doesn\u2019t make you less valuable. In fact, it can show humility, responsibility, and trustworthiness qualities that matter in any career.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Errands, no matter how minor, shape character. They teach you time management<\/a>, accountability, and attention to detail. Sometimes, the way you handle \u201csmall tasks\u201d is what convinces your boss that you\u2019re ready for bigger ones.<\/p>\n\n\n\n