A video of billionaire businessman Tony Elumelu interacting with a graduate trainee at a UBA event has been making the rounds online, and for me, it was one of those seemingly ordinary moments that can provoke a much bigger conversation. The exchange was brief, but it touched on something I have often wondered about: as our society becomes more modern and our relationships increasingly informal, are we gradually losing some of the values around respect and courtesy that many of us were raised with?
“Good morning, Tony.”
There was a brief pause, followed by a chuckle from Tony Elumelu, almost as though he could not quite believe what he had heard. He appeared to seek clarification, asking if she had indeed called him “Tony,” and the graduate trainee affirmed that she had. He then responded, “You won’t call me Tony. You’ll call me Mr. Elumelu. I don’t subscribe to that kind of oyibo life.”
Watching the video more than once, I found myself paying attention not just to what was said, but also to his reaction. The chuckle suggested surprise or disbelief, while the subsequent correction made it clear that being addressed simply by his first name did not sit well with him. And honestly, I expected an apology from the trainee. Once she realised that the way she had addressed him was not acceptable to him, something as simple as, “I’m sorry, sir,” would have acknowledged the correction before she proceeded to address him as Mr. Elumelu. To me, that is part of respect: recognising when we have crossed a line and having the humility to correct ourselves.
Of course, times have changed. Not every older person expects to be addressed formally, and some deliberately invite younger colleagues to call them by their first names. In many modern workplaces, first-name culture is encouraged because organisations want to reduce unnecessary hierarchy and create an environment where people can communicate more freely. There is nothing wrong with that when it is the preference of the person involved. If an older colleague tells you, “Please, call me Tony,” then respecting that preference is perfectly reasonable.
But that was not what happened here. Elumelu made his preference clear. Whatever anyone thinks about it, once someone has communicated how they wish to be addressed, I believe the courteous thing to do is respect it.
Perhaps because of the generation I grew up in, I still find it uncomfortable to address someone significantly older than me simply by their first name. It is not because I believe older people are automatically superior or that young people should be afraid of them. It is because I was raised to understand that there is a certain way of relating with people who are older than you. You could disagree with them, challenge their opinions and even question their decisions, but you were still expected to do so with some measure of respect.
For many of us, words such as “Sir,” “Ma,” “Mr.,” “Mrs.,” “Uncle” and “Aunty” were more than forms of address. They were expressions of recognition. They acknowledged age, experience and the journey someone had travelled before us. You did not necessarily have to agree with an older person, but you were taught that disagreement did not have to become disrespect.
I think this is one of the things our traditional African upbringing got right.
Respect for elders was never supposed to mean that older people were infallible. It was about teaching younger people humility and restraint. You could make your point without insulting someone. You could disagree without being abusive. You could be accomplished without forgetting that other people had gone ahead of you.
Yet the world has become considerably more informal. Corporate culture has changed, younger professionals interact directly with senior executives, and social media has flattened many traditional hierarchies. Today, a billionaire, professor, chief executive or public figure can easily become a first name in everyday conversation. In some workplaces, that informality is deliberately encouraged.
Again, there is nothing inherently wrong with that. We should not create environments where people are afraid to speak simply because someone is older or more senior. Younger people deserve to be heard, and age should never become a shield against accountability. But in removing unnecessary hierarchies, we should be careful not to remove courtesy along with them.
There is a difference between equality and familiarity. Calling an older person “Sir” does not make you less intelligent. Saying “Ma” does not diminish your education or achievements. Showing courtesy does not mean surrendering your voice or accepting that you are inferior. Sometimes, it simply means recognising the person before you and choosing to relate with them respectfully.
There is also something worth considering about the way we respond when we realise that we have offended someone. We will not always know what people are comfortable with, and we may sometimes use the wrong words without intending disrespect. But when someone clearly tells us that something we have said or done makes them uncomfortable, there is maturity in being able to say, “I’m sorry.” An apology does not make us smaller; it demonstrates that we are aware of how our actions affect others.
That said, this should never become an argument for unquestioning obedience to older people. Age does not automatically make someone right, and being older should never give anyone permission to belittle, intimidate or mistreat younger people. Respect must be mutual. If we expect younger people to honour their elders, older people must also respect the dignity, intelligence and contributions of the younger generation.
For me, the bigger question is not whether every young person must address every older person formally. That would be too simplistic. The question is whether, in embracing modernity, we are becoming careless about values that still matter. Society will evolve. Language will change. Workplace relationships will change. Some traditions will disappear, and perhaps some deserve to. But not everything from the past is outdated simply because it is old.
Some values survive because they continue to serve a purpose.
Respect is one of them.
That is why Elumelu’s brief correction stayed with me. It was not really about whether the trainee should have said “Tony” or “Mr. Elumelu.” It was about what happens when our understanding of familiarity clashes with someone else’s expectation of courtesy. Can we recognise that difference? Can we adjust without feeling diminished? And when we get it wrong, can we apologise without being defensive?
Personally, I still find it uncomfortable to address someone significantly older than me simply by their first name or surname without some form of honourific. It is how I was raised, and I see no reason to abandon it simply because the world has become more informal. I do not think that makes me less modern, educated or confident. I believe we can be completely comfortable with ourselves while still being intentional about showing courtesy to others.
After all, you cannot buy age. You cannot download experience. You cannot fast-track the years someone has spent living, learning, failing, succeeding and navigating life. Age alone does not make a person right, but it represents a journey that deserves some recognition.
Perhaps, then, the lesson from this brief exchange is not that we should be afraid to address older people by their first names. It is that modernity should not make courtesy look outdated. We can build workplaces where everyone has a voice without creating environments where respect is considered unnecessary. We can challenge authority without insulting it, embrace equality without eliminating humility, and move forward without discarding everything that once taught us how to relate with one another.
The world will continue to change, and we should change with it. But I hope we never become so modern that simple respect begins to look old-fashioned. Some values are worth carrying with us, and for me, respect for those who are older than us is one of them.