Judge /dʒʌdʒ/ form an opinion or conclusion about (Google definition); to regard (someone) as either good or bad (Merriam-Webster). You don’t have to have studied law to be a judge; we’ve been doing it from the moment we started interacting with other living things…and the Teletubbies (Is the purple Teletubby really gay?).

While you ponder Tinky Winky’s sexual orientation, I am poised to share real-life scenarios which aptly ‘do justice’ to the word. Let’s start with the proverbial burger experience where I’ve walked into a restaurant during my college days dressed like a Mac Daddy asking for a Big Mac. I get the proverbial side-eye from the sales assistant (no smile) and the haphazard rush to dump my order in a brown paper bag – burger snatched from the open tray with the same care attributed to your last gas bill in winter, french fries filled in flimsy fashion (pardon the tongue-twister) so it’s not quite as full in the red pocket as it could be, and your coke cup is packed with so much ice that the cola becomes a brown slush puppie! You barely pick up your order and try to ask for some barbecue sauce and then she goes, ‘NEXT CUSTOMER PLEASE!’

Fast forward 3 months after graduation and I walk into the same fast food restaurant this time wearing a suit and coming with a swag so bad it would make Shaft pee in his pants *Insert WordPress moderator comment ‘Shut your mouth!’ here* Now I’m greeted with a big fat juicy burger grin and I’m being looked at eye to eye whilst my order is gracefully put together with the finesse and fluidity of a Russian ballerina – a marvel to behold. Everything was tucked into the brown paper bag, including all the choices of sauces available and extra serviette. And then to my surprise I was asked the following question: ‘Would there be anything else?’ I can’t remember if I looked left and right before coming to the realization I was indeed the customer getting this much attention. I thought to myself, ‘I better suit-up more often.’

I judge people everyday. I judge the motorists around me as I tell myself they’re all drunk and I’m the only sane one on the road. I judge male staff at work who attempt to shake me with perfectly dry hands as they come out of the restroom. I judge girls I date when they act like they have 99 problems and you’re gonna become one. I judge the real intent of Naija policemen at checkpoints when they stop ‘only random vehicles with four wheels’ every weeknight after 9pm. I’m judging right now whether or not you will enjoy reading this post as much as I have writing it. Well?… 😀

You can also catch up on the rest of my Alphabet rant here:

• A is for Awkward
• B is for Blunder 
• C is for Cursing
• D is for Desperado
• E is for Excuse
• F is for Fidget
• G is for Grammar
• H is for Heartburn
• I is for Invitation