I know I’m not the only one who dislikes random colleagues asking them to put into a collection for a random person in the office who has seen the light and decided to leave, or sponsor someone who has never jogged to bus stop less than 5 mins away but has decided to attempt an uphill 10k run.
The feeling is always the same: chest tightens up, palms get sweaty, blood pressure increases all because you want to say no, but office politics overrule which makes you say “I’ve only got £1, will that do?”
Recently, I was peer pressured into sponsoring a colleague. I usually don’t mind donating, as I want people to achieve their goals and raise funds, but not this person. Usually colleagues send e-mails but this person decided to ask in person, so I felt I couldn’t look past them or tell them I couldn’t speak English, because we had previously conversed. Also, when stood next to me their personal fragrance, akin to a sewage mountain – the ones you find in some developing countries just cooking in 40°C heat – meant I wanted them to quickly move away, so I pledged. Tomorrow I’ll have to smile in their face and lie to them by wishing them good luck whilst hoping they don’t make it so I don’t have to pay £5. My father didn’t dodge bullets, wrestle alligators in the River Nile and walk for two days barefoot to freedom during the second Sudanese civil war for his daughter to be a mug in 2016.
DISCLAIMER – the last sentence is a lie. My dad isn’t Bear Grylls, he’s a physics professor who didn’t have shoes for the first eight years of his life but worked hard, so I can go on four holidays a year and have first world/ champagne life problems.