There’s a disturbing social trend many of us recognize but rarely confront: people who only reach out when they need a favour,, and vanish as soon as their needs are met. They’re the ones who ignore your calls, scroll past your updates, don’t greet you in public or church, until, suddenly…
their phone lights up with your number because they need money, a job referral, a place to stay, or help navigating a crisis.
Let’s be blunt. This behaviour is not only selfish; it’s parasitic. It reduces human relationships to utility, treating others like spare tyres pulled out only during an emergency, then dumped back into the boot without a thank you. [/newsletter_lock]
This is not a rant against helping people. Helping is noble. It builds community. But what’s poisonous is selective engagement, the kind that masquerades as connection but is really just exploitation. You never text, never call, never greet , but now that you’re in a bind, you expect generosity from someone you’ve ignored for years?
Imagine walking into a bank you’ve never opened an account with, and demanding a loan. You’d be laughed out. Why? Because you’ve made no investment in the institution. So why should people, neighbours, relatives, classmates, or acquaintances, be expected to invest in your crisis when you’ve never shown up in their lives?
Let’s be blunt. This behaviour is not only selfish; it’s parasitic.
This is where the concept of social capital comes in. Social capital isn’t about doing favours in exchange for others. It’s not tit-for-tat. It’s the subtle, ongoing investment we make in relationships: greeting people, checking in, sharing time and concern, being available even when there’s no crisis. It’s the network of goodwill and mutual respect that we build, slowly and genuinely, over time. And many people are bankrupt.
Take the neighbour you walk past daily without a nod, until your electricity is cut and you’re now knocking to borrow an extension. Or the schoolmate who ghosted you for a decade, only to resurface on LinkedIn asking for a reference. Or the cousin who never checks on your well-being, but suddenly remembers your number when they need a place to crash.
And when you ask where their friends are, the ones they partied with, laughed with, posted on Instagram, you hear hollow excuses: “Oh, they’re not really friends… just people I hang out with.” Rubbish. You had your circle , you just chose convenience over connection, surface over substance. And now you want someone else to fix the holes in your sinking boat.
The tragedy is that this mindset isn’t just rude, it’s dangerous. It isolates people. It creates networks based on use, not care. And it teaches younger generations that relationships are transactional, not sacred.
you just chose convenience over connection, surface over substance.
It’s also deeply narcissistic. It assumes the world owes you attention and support, even when you’ve offered neither. It puts you at the centre of everyone else’s emotional economy — but refuses to pay even minimal dues.
Let’s be clear: helping should never be forced. But nor should it be manipulated. If you don’t water a plant, you don’t get to eat its fruit. If you don’t show up in someone’s life with presence and sincerity, don’t be surprised when your emergency calls go unanswered.
We must reclaim the ethics of community. Greet that neighbour. Check in on that cousin. Call a friend not because you need them — but because you care. Social capital isn’t about what you can get — it’s about who you are becoming in relation to others.
Because one day, your own tyre might burs, and you’ll discover there’s no one left to lend you a spare.
