Ghanaians and the Tension Between Anyhowness and Making Things as They Ought to Be

My brother and I had just left a laundry shop after he had spoken to the attendant about the quality of work he had received.

The issue was his white coat.

He had noticed that the coat was not being properly worked on. The ironing was not as good as it used to be, and he had made it known that the quality of the service had reduced.

Watching him, I could tell that he probably came across as a difficult customer.

But I couldn't say anything because, honestly, there was nothing wrong with what he was doing.

If you pay good money for a service, there is nothing unreasonable about expecting the service to be good.

In fact, I think we have gotten to a strange point where asking for excellence can make you look unreasonable.

A few days later, on Monday, he was ironing his clothes again and told me that the coat was finally back to how it ought to look.

That conversation stayed with me.

Because it reminded me of something I have been thinking about for a while: if you don't demand for good, you will probably never get the best of things.

There is something about expectations that shapes the quality of what we eventually receive. When nobody asks questions, nobody complains, nobody checks, and nobody insists that something be done properly, mediocrity eventually becomes the standard.

And I think this is one of the tensions we have in Ghana and, perhaps, in many parts of our part of the world.

We have become comfortable with anyhowness.

The Culture of Anyhowness

There is a particular Ghanaian expression that captures this perfectly: anyhow.

Do it anyhow.

Make it anyhow.

Finish it anyhow.

Give it to the customer anyhow.

Build it anyhow.

Present it anyhow.

It doesn't necessarily mean that people consciously want to do poor work. Sometimes it is simply the absence of a strong internal standard.

Something works? Good enough.

The customer hasn't complained? Good enough.

Nobody noticed? Good enough.

It looks nice from a distance? Good enough.

The deadline has been met? Good enough.

And slowly, "good enough" becomes the culture.

You see it in products. You see it in services. You see it in construction. You see it in websites. You see it in restaurants. You see it in customer service. You see it in offices. You see it in how some businesses communicate with their customers and how some professionals deliver work.

A lot of things are not necessarily terrible.

They are just mid.

They work, but they could have been much better.

They are functional, but not excellent.

They look finished, but the details have not been considered.

And perhaps that is the most dangerous form of mediocrity because it is difficult to complain about something that technically works.

The chair isn't broken.

The website loads.

The food is edible.

The shirt is ironed.

The building is standing.

The software is running.

So what exactly are you complaining about?

But excellence asks a different question.

Not, "Does it work?"

But, "Is this how it ought to be?"

That is a much more uncomfortable question.

The Problem With Demanding Better

One of the interesting things about our culture is that when you demand better, you can quickly become the problem.

You complain about poor service, and you're difficult.

You ask someone to redo something, and you're proud.

You point out an error, and you're seen as disrespectful.

You ask why something was not done properly, and suddenly the conversation is no longer about the quality of the work. It becomes about your personality.

"Why are you like this?"

"Can't you just manage it?"

"At least they have done something."

"You're too particular."

"Nobody is perfect."

Of course, nobody is perfect.

But "nobody is perfect" can become an excuse for refusing to pursue excellence.

There is a difference between acknowledging human imperfection and deliberately accepting poor standards.

I am not arguing that everything must be perfect. That would be unrealistic.

I am arguing that there should be a standard.

There should be a point at which you can say, No, this is not how this thing ought to be.

And then have the courage to do something about it.

My brother's coat is a small example, but the principle is much bigger.

He complained.

The service improved.

The coat eventually returned to the standard he expected.

Perhaps the person at the laundry shop needed someone to remind him that the standard had fallen.

And this is why feedback matters.

Sometimes people don't know their standard has fallen until somebody tells them.

But if everyone simply keeps quiet because they don't want to be considered difficult, the decline continues.

We Have to Stop Confusing Niceness With Excellence

I think part of the problem is that we sometimes place too much value on being agreeable.

We don't want to offend people.

We don't want to appear proud.

We don't want to be the person who is always complaining.

We don't want to make someone's work harder.

So we tolerate things.

And tolerance is not always a virtue.

There are things we should tolerate because people are human.

But there are also things we should refuse because they are simply below the standard.

If I pay a professional to build something for me, I should be able to ask questions about the quality.

If I buy a product, I should be able to expect it to perform as advertised.

If I hire someone to provide a service, I should be able to say when the service has declined.

That isn't being difficult.

That is participating in the creation of a culture where standards matter.

In fact, I would argue that sometimes the person who demands better is doing the institution a favour.

Because standards rarely rise by accident.

Someone has to insist.

The More Dangerous Problem: Optics Without Substance

But there is another layer to this problem that bothers me even more.

It is the fakery of quality.

There is now a category of people and businesses who understand the language of quality.

They know how to look premium.

They know how to use the right words.

They know how to design beautiful branding.

They know how to create impressive social media pages.

They know how to photograph their products.

They know how to talk about excellence.

They know how to say "world-class."

They know how to put "premium" everywhere.

But then you actually use the product.

You actually engage the service.

You actually inspect the work.

And suddenly the substance disappears.

The packaging says one thing.

The experience says another.

This is where optics becomes dangerous.

Because good presentation is not the same thing as good work.

A beautiful website does not automatically mean the company is excellent.

A nice office does not mean the organisation is well run.

A premium-looking restaurant does not guarantee excellent food.

A well-designed product does not guarantee that the engineering behind it is good.

A person who constantly talks about excellence may not necessarily be excellent.

At some point, you have to test the thing.

And that is where the truth usually appears.

Quality Is What Survives Inspection

I have come to think that real quality is what survives inspection.

Not what looks good from a distance.

Not what impresses you for five minutes.

Not what photographs well.

Not what someone tells you about themselves.

But what remains when you actually use it.

You open the software.

You read the document.

You wear the shirt.

You eat the food.

You call customer service.

You test the product.

You examine the construction.

You ask the difficult questions.

You look underneath.

That is when you find out whether there is substance.

And perhaps this is one of the reasons why we need to become more comfortable with inspection.

We need to become comfortable asking:

Does this actually work?

Is this actually good?

Can this survive scrutiny?

Would I personally use this?

Would I recommend this to someone I care about?

Is this how it ought to be?

These are uncomfortable questions, but they are necessary questions.

Why Does This Happen?

There are many reasons.

Some of it is economic. When people are struggling, they sometimes optimise for getting something done cheaply and quickly rather than getting it done well.

Some of it is educational. We cannot consistently produce things we have never been taught to recognise.

Some of it is cultural. If everyone around you accepts mediocrity, excellence begins to look strange.

Some of it is institutional. When organisations don't reward quality or punish persistent incompetence, there is little incentive to improve.

And some of it is simply exposure.

You cannot have a strong internal picture of quality if your entire reference point is what you have always seen.

If the only restaurant you know serves average food, average food becomes excellent.

If the only websites you interact with are poorly designed, a slightly better website suddenly looks world-class.

If you have never experienced exceptional customer service, basic courtesy feels extraordinary.

Exposure changes your standards.

This is why travelling, reading, studying, using good products, visiting well-run institutions and interacting with people who are excellent at what they do can be so transformative.

You suddenly discover that things can actually be done differently.

You realise that the thing you thought was normal was merely what you had become accustomed to.

We Need to Expose Ourselves to Better Things

I think one of the solutions is education, but not education in the narrow sense of going to school.

I mean education through exposure.

We need to deliberately expose ourselves to quality.

Read good books.

Use well-designed software.

Study great companies.

Visit places where things are done properly.

Taste good food.

Look at good architecture.

Study excellent writing.

Learn how great products are designed.

Understand how great organisations operate.

Pay attention to the details.

And then bring those standards home.

Because exposure should not merely make us consumers of better things.

It should make us producers of better things.

If you encounter a better system, ask how you can build one.

If you experience better customer service, ask how you can provide it.

If you see a better product, ask what makes it better.

If you encounter a well-organised institution, ask what principles make it work.

The goal is not to constantly complain that Ghana is not like somewhere else.

The goal is to take what we learn and build better things here.

Become a Yardstick

Perhaps this is where I think we each have a responsibility.

Instead of always asking, "Why is everything like this?"

We should sometimes ask:

"What am I producing?"

Am I adding to the problem?

Am I also doing things anyhow?

Am I the person complaining about poor quality while delivering mediocre work myself?

Am I demanding excellence from others while giving myself permission to be average?

That is the uncomfortable part.

Because it is easy to criticise the laundry shop.

It is harder to examine your own work.

It is easy to complain about bad websites.

It is harder to build a great one.

It is easy to complain about customer service.

It is harder to run a business that consistently treats customers well.

It is easy to talk about corruption, incompetence and mediocrity.

It is harder to build an institution that operates differently.

At some point, we have to stop being merely consumers of quality and become producers of it.

We need people who become a yardstick of quality.

People whose work communicates, without needing a speech:

"This is how this thing ought to be done."

Don't Be About the Optics

And perhaps that is the distinction I am most interested in.

Don't just look good.

Be good.

Don't just appear professional.

Be competent.

Don't just have beautiful branding.

Build a good product.

Don't just talk about excellence.

Practise it when nobody is watching.

Don't just create the appearance of quality.

Create something that survives inspection.

Because eventually, the customer will use the product.

Eventually, somebody will read the document.

Eventually, someone will test the software.

Eventually, somebody will live in the building.

Eventually, someone will wear the clothes.

Eventually, someone will discover what is underneath the packaging.

And when that happens, optics will not save you.

Substance will.

I think we need to become less afraid of people who demand better.

We should not automatically call them difficult.

Sometimes they are difficult, of course. There are genuinely unreasonable people.

But sometimes the "difficult" person is simply the person who refuses to lower the standard.

And perhaps we need more of those people.

Not people who demand perfection from everyone while producing nothing themselves, but people who are willing to hold themselves and others to a higher standard because they genuinely believe things can be better.

The laundry shop story is small.

But that is how cultures change.

One person says, this is not good enough.

Someone else listens.

The work improves.

The next customer receives something better.

The worker learns.

The standard moves.

And eventually, what was once considered "too much" becomes normal.

Maybe that is the kind of culture we should be trying to build.

A culture where excellence is not considered arrogance.

Where asking for quality is not considered being difficult.

Where "anyhow" is not the default.

Where we don't confuse appearance with substance.

Where we expose ourselves to the best things we can find and then bring those lessons into what we build.

And most importantly, where each of us tries to become a yardstick of quality.

Don't be about the optics.

Be about how it ought to be.