Dying on the hill of stupidity and ego

He knew he was wrong, but once he started doubling down on nonsense, pride wouldn’t let him back down. In the end, he lost the very face he was trying to save and walked away with a deflated ego.

Gbedu Pick
Hasibunallah — Olamide

Idan’s Musings.
“It's a job that's never started that takes the longest to finish.” —J.R.R. Tolkien

Earlier yesterday, I was in a car with my mum, my aunt, and Peter, my cousin, on our way to my uncle’s inaugural lecture. While catching up, I asked my cousin what class he was currently in, and he said SS2, meaning he had one more year of high school.

Trust me to be me—always saying something unexpected.
Me: “O ti ka iwe tan o” (You never finish learning/studying o) don’t mind anyone that says otherwise.
Everyone: ahn an 😂😂😂😂😂
Me: Na your dad, the prof, don read book finish.
Everyone: 😂😂😂
My aunt: Well even his dad is not done learning. Learning only stops when we’re no more.
My mum: Beeni, don’t mind him jare (refering to me).

The lesson in that moment is true: we never stop learning. One thing I’ve been learning and practicing over the years is admitting when I’m wrong, no matter the situation. Even if it’s something small or involves someone younger or "samller" in status or anything else, once it’s clear I’m wrong, I’ve made it a rule not to let ego or pride get in the way. So, I try to apologize and fix up. I even go as far as making it a criteria for choosing friends. If you can’t call me out, we most likely can’t be friends.

Later that night…

After two failed attempts (Ibadan Bolt drivers are something else), I finally got a Bolt ride to where I’d be spending the night. The trip was smooth, and the driver and I had a good conversation that started thanks to what happened with other drivers. We talked about not judging people based on first encounters and shared a few personal experiences. I remember telling him that sometimes I prefer working with computers over humans—because humans can just be... humans

As we turned into my friend’s street and saw a bike man, probably in his forties, who had parked his motorcycle (okada) right in the middle of a narrow road just to buy something nearby. Honestly, it wasn’t the smartest move, though maybe excusable if he didn’t disturb anyone. I tried calling his attention before he entered the shop, but he didn’t respond. Passersby and others on the street eventually got his attention for us.

The reasonable thing would have been to apologize, park the bike properly, and move on. Even if he wasn’t going to apologize—at least just park it right and let everyone go their way. But no, this man stopped on his way back and started arguing with someone who challenged his action.

How can you be so wrong and still so loud?

At this point, other people had joined in. And what did he do? He claimed the road—one that couldn’t comfortably fit two cars side by side—was wide enough to pass a trailer. How na?

That was what got me out of the car. If you’re stupid enough not to see or admit thatyou’re wrong, I’ll help you see just how wrong and stupid you are. I threw in a few “can you not see?”, “shey e rin ran ni? abi oju n du yin” remarks and, honestly, some insults I normally wouldn’t say. He eventually moved the bike, but still refused to admit he was wrong. Instead, he said they others were all ganging up on him because they saw someone in a car, asking if they weren’t all commoners or something more ridiculous. I really did not understand that statement and I still don’t.

Bruh, more than fifteen people were telling you you were wrong. But no, we were all mistaken and somehow you were the only one who saw the truth—when it was right there in plain sight. The whole thing was too stupid to not be a skit.
As we drove off, I pointed out the moment to the driver as an example of what we’d discussed earlier: how unpredictable people can be.

Looking back, I think the man knew he was wrong. Think about it, if he was truly in the right, he would have raised even more hell. Trust a Nigerian when they’re actually right. Also, he’s Yoruba, which increases the chance of him being a bit extra during a dispute like that.

I believe the bike man’s behavior came from ego. Being proud or ruled by ego when you’re supposed to be humble can be a heavy load. Once he had gone too far defending his poor decision, it became harder to back down. He was too deep in his stance to turn around without losing face.

I think it’s something we should all be wary of. It’s easy to choose ego over truth, over facts. Ego will make you double down on nonsense, it will make you fight people who are trying to help you see clearly. You might win the argument but you will lose respect.

Okay, what’s the point?

This story is a reminder to me—and to all of us—not to let ego cloud our judgment. Be bold, please be proud, but be teachable. It’s okay to be wrong. It’s human, it’s normal. What’s not okay is to stay wrong because you’re too proud to admit it. And when you admit, remember to fix up. It’s equally important that mistakes don’t repeat themselves.

So next time you’re knee-deep in a stance, ask yourself:

Am I defending the truth—or just defending my ego?

Pride and ego have their place, but we must know when to be humble and when to stand tall. Like most things in life, balance is key.

Till next time guys,
Never stop learning.
Ace