You wince as the chair creaks beneath you when you sit down in the waiting room. Impatient bated breaths telling time apart and your foot maintaining a regular beat along the mahogany floor – if anything adding to the monotony of an interview. You have to be home in time for a family dinner. You sigh through your nose wishing that they would call your name already. You pass a cursory glance, your gaze going from uptight people to elegant furniture and the landing on the polished floor.

Your back gets straighter,head held higher, posture changing from nonchalance to barely contained superiority as you look at your reflection and compare it with those around you. A surge of confidence holds annoyance at bay as you realize that you’ll make the cut. Asthey call your name and you rise your hands are pressed tightly to your sides from fear of brushing someone on your way out.

The apparent change in your demeanor is so subtle that it eludes everyone’s notice. But it is by assumptions, forged through the lens of experiences, that we execute actions. This is a trend which has been increasingly observed by me, whether it be in the disappointed look my parents give me when I pass money onto “able-bodied beggars” or in the eyes of experienced fellow debaters gauging my talent of basis of my reactions; an increasing almost insatiable need to measure those around us and determine our rank accordingly.

The expedient in itself would not be an issue of concern apart from the simple fact that our results always give us the upper hand; owing to our accomplishments or something as fickle as leather jackets or prosperous family backgrounds we always rise to the top.

What we recurrently choose to forget is that humans are not a product of their choices but that of their circumstances.

The old clothes that you hastily rifle through when you hunt for your designer bag before the interview are a luxury for the average citizen. The perfume that you wore to the interview was his daughter’s monthly fee. The shoes that you’ve only wore twice after buying them were something out of a fantasy novel and the sandwich you threw away with a distasteful expression was a good enough meal.

So when he sweeps the waiting room you sat in, when he smells traces of your perfume in the air, when he sees your wallet left by you carelessly on the table, when he opens it with trembling hands and counts enough money to pay his rent for the next six months and unceremoniously shoves it in his pocket with fear of being seen do you have a right to call him a thief? Do you still have the right when at that moment you’re on the other side of the city? Laughing politely while reminiscing over your last shopping trip to Paris and deciding on which dessert to order? Do you have a right to scream at the receptionist of your workplace the next day when you realize that your wallet is lost? Do you have a right to threaten everyone in vicinity with your considerable status? Do you have a right to slap him when you find him and belittle him with names best left unheard?

It is amusing how we anoint titles of piety to our name when in actuality we have no claim to them. We are not saints; we are sinners who have never been put to test. Our pristine records are not a result of devoted upbringing but are the results of being fortunate enough to bear the lack of need. We are not the bearers the good actions; we are over privileged denizens of a world whose reality we have yet to understand.

What is it in this world that would make us sin? We’ve never spent nights rendered sleepless by hunger, have never experienced the air turn thick with disappointment when we return home with nothing to put on the table, have never had to say no to our baseless whims and justify each purchase with tales of its future use.

This is not a justification for the increasing crime rate or a valid excuse for committing felony. This is about changing the things that we have authority over. So the next time someone comes to you for help and it comes to the question of being “worthy enough”, ask yourself this: Are we worthy of all the things that are being provided to us in abundance? Did God ask for a reason before granting us? Or did the deprived do any wrong as to not earn basic facilities which we don’t spare a second to think about? Can we think of any service rendered by us that should warranty a lifetime of comfort and health?

All these questions will lead to the inevitable conclusion that none of us are worthy and therefore not entitled to the arrogance that is now being considered an acceptable side effect of success.