“Good Morning, Tony”: Culture, Respect and the Art of Reading the Room

“Good morning, Tony.”

Those three words, spoken by a young woman to Tony Elumelu at a recent graduation event, ignited a national conversation within hours.

Mr Elumelu corrected her at once: “No, you won’t call me Tony. You’ll call me Mr Elumelu, TOE or Chairman.” The clip spread rapidly, prompting debates about corporate culture, African respect, generational differences and the so-called “Oyibo” approach to workplace relationships.

I watched the video several times. I could see both sides.

I have worked in telecommunications and financial services environments where first-name culture was almost standard practice. At iSON BPO, inside an MTN call-centre setting, the atmosphere differed markedly from traditional Nigerian workplaces. I worked alongside Mr Adeyanju Johnson, Mr Onasa, Ms Odion, Mr Macaubrey et al…as my Team Lead. Even in that environment, I found it difficult to address some of them by first name alone.

Earlier, in the financial sector, I called my branch manager Aunty Biola, or simply BM. Using her first name felt unnatural. No handbook required it. Cultural programming did.

In the public sector the language grew more layered still. “Oga” often preceded the name. “Sir” frequently followed. Age could quietly reorder hierarchy: a senior in rank who was younger in years would still hesitate before using a first name on junior.

Nigeria’s workplaces are not purely professional spaces. They are cultural ones.

In many multinational organisations shaped by Western norms, first names are actively encouraged. A CEO may say, “Call me David,” and mean it. In the United States, the United Kingdom and similar environments, this is ordinary.

Yet culture travels with people. What feels natural in one room can sound disrespectful in another.

I won’t entirely blame the young woman. She may simply have been operating from the corporate culture she knew. Some Nigerian organisations deliberately discourage titles and promote first-name address. That culture exists.

Still, I would have handled the moment differently.

The instant Mr Elumelu corrected me, I would have stopped.

“I’m sorry, Mr Chairman. Thank you for the correction. It is a pleasure to be here, and thank you for the opportunity to speak.”

Then I would have asked my question.

This is where we appear to be losing ground. We are learning to assert ourselves, yet sometimes forgetting how to read a room.

I am not opposed to informality. Cordial relationships matter. Workplaces should not become places of unnecessary fear. Good leaders remain approachable; healthy organisations allow people to contribute without trembling when the boss enters.

There remains, however, a clear distinction between approachability and assumed familiarity.

You can be close without becoming careless.

You can be confident without becoming presumptuous.

You can be modern without discarding cultural intelligence.

Actress Shaffy Bello expressed this African sensibility with clarity: “When a child calls me by my name, I pull them closer and tell them, ‘You haven’t earned the right, and you never will.’ Even children in the U.S. call me ‘Ma’am’. This is Africa after all.” Her words point to a deeper cultural logic, that age, experience and position still carry weight that first-name familiarity does not automatically erase.

Decades earlier, Dr Maya Angelou made a similar point. When a young lady addressed her simply as “Maya,” she replied: “I’m not Maya. I’m 62 years old. I have lived so long and tried so hard that a young woman like you, or any other, has no license to come up to me and call me by my first name… I am your mother, I am your auntie, I’m your teacher, I’m your professor.” The correction was not about ego. It was about recognising lived experience and the social role that accompanies it.

Even in lighter Western settings the principle surfaces. When Trevor Noah asked former President Barack Obama whether he missed being called by his first name, Obama answered with a smile: “My best friends call me Barack. You should call me Mr. President.” The exchange was playful, yet it quietly reaffirmed that preferred forms of address are not trivial.

These instincts extend beyond Africa. In Indian workplaces hierarchy remains strongly felt. Juniors commonly address seniors as “Sir” or “Madam,” often adding respectful suffixes such as “ji.” Even in modern companies, switching to a first name without invitation can still feel abrupt. In Chinese professional culture the pattern is more formal still. Colleagues and subordinates typically use surname plus title; Wang Jingli, Li Zong, rather than given names. Hierarchy, seniority and “face” shape everyday speech; casual first-name address of a superior is rare and can signal disrespect.

Across these cultures the underlying idea is consistent: how we name people is one of the simplest ways we show we understand context, power and relationship.

My own rule is straightforward. I will adapt when appropriate, but I prefer to begin from what is generally and morally acceptable until the other person grants permission for greater familiarity. I would rather start with “Sir” and be invited to use a first name than begin with a first name and be asked to retreat to a title. I prefer not to ascend into familiarity only to be asked to descend.

The real lesson from the “Good Morning, Tony” moment is:

Read the room.

Understand the culture.

Observe how people address one another.

Know the difference between an informal office conversation and standing before principal officials.

And when someone tells you how they prefer to be addressed, accept the correction with grace.

Sometimes professionalism is about knowing the moment, reading the room…and honouring such rare privilege that comes your way.

-Ayomide Abiona-

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