Saturday 30 / August / 2025
I am in Salalah this week and I met someone who was once a very powerful business executive whose word would send a shiver in the corporate culture in Oman.
As I cast my thoughts in the past, I remember him as an arrogant man who hurt the feelings of almost everyone who crossed his path, both professionally and socially. Many would say that “power got into his head” and controlled his way of thinking. He ruined the careers of many people who worked under him in the name of “professionalism.”
He never understood the meaning of that word and he never cared anyway. He trampled on the feelings of his employees all the time. But when I was looking at him while he was walking in the hotel’s lobby, no one would guess what he was when he was in the seat of power.
Let me correct myself. In this hotel, he was not “walking” but “shuffling” his steps like a baby who was learning to walk while two people were holding each of his hands. He did not see me and I never made an attempt to get near him. Two decades ago, when he was in the pinnacle of his career, he put a condition when I asked for an appointment to see him.
His secretary told me, apologetically, that he would only see me in his office if I “wear a tie and a suit”. First, I thought he was joking but the secretary assured me that he was not. I picked up my notebook and left never to return again in his office.
Of course, it was tempting for me to go to him in this Salalah hotel and reminded him. But I did not, because after taking a second look at him, he would not remember me. In his condition, he would not remember anyone. But again, there are many such people like him around. I am sure all of us would know one.
When power gets into the head, it can become very addictive. Such people hold a mental leash whipping at people under their command without mercy. The only problem is that they do not see what lies on their future path. But one day, it goes “wham”, and the roof of their lives comes down heavily collapsing at them.
Again, while still in Salalah, I noted so many other things that I normally don’t when I am in Muscat. Not just the beauty around me and the good weather. But the people from different backgrounds of life. They all appear to have the same target and that is to have a good time during the fabulous Khareef season.
There is more for them. Bursting the stress of their daily lives, changing their routine or just a curiosity to see something new. I would sometimes watch them and try to figure out what is in their minds as they eat, walk or just simply sit quietly.
Every one of them have their own story. The young may well try to figure out how to cope with the professional dictators of their carriers while the old reflect if they had lived their lives differently. But for me, it was about the theater of life. We were born, we lived and now we are somewhere in the playhouse of life.
And that is what is all about.
