Without meaning to, I became an enabler of corruption.
I know I’ve been sitting on my high horse for far too long. After all, I consider myself a legitimate member of the fourth estate that zealously acts as a watchdog on government and other powerful institutions.
But nothing in life, as I’ve learned over the years, is really black or white. The gray area is where almost everyone has to navigate moving forward. And at the end of the day, your actions depend on your scruples and your moral fortitude.
I have always tried to do what is right. Sometimes that is not enough, but I try. Does that make me more Catholic than the Pope? Far from it. I can stand an honest cheat, but I have an aversion to hypocrites.
I am not saying I’ve never taken advantage of my position. It would be a lie if I said I haven’t. Mostly it involved me jumping lines at transactions or getting special treatment, if you know what I mean. Mind you, it’s not because I don’t have any patience. But in this country, who you know really matters.
And I know several people in key positions. Does that mean I have I taken advantage of my connections? I can honestly say that for the most part, no, I have not. You see, I don’t like being indebted to people, especially to ones I barely know. I’d rather be the one dishing out favors.
But living here can be so frustrating because, let’s face it, there are so many things that are not fair; so many systems that can be tweaked to make them more efficient, which really test your patience. Then you get this epiphany: You have to pick your battles.
Earlier this week, I was flagged in a neighboring city after dropping someone off at the airport. Apparently, I turned left on a “No Left Turn” street. I have to admit, I didn’t see any signs. Then again, I was not familiar with the route, which was why I took it so I could familiarize myself with it.
Mind you, the traffic enforcer was very polite, smiling even, when he informed me about my transgression.
The first thing I did was apologize. I honestly didn’t know turning left there was prohibited. Again, I rarely visit the neighboring city since everything I need is here, in Cebu City.
The traffic enforcer asked to see my driver’s license and the registration papers. I handed them to him. After a few seconds, he told me that he would be giving me a ticket. “No problem,” I told him.
He hesitated, so I asked how much the penalty for the violation was. He said he wasn’t sure, but P1,000 at the very least. He said I’d have to go to the city sports center to pay it. “Do I still want a ticket?” he asked.
It took me a while to process what was going on. As you all know, I don’t drive that much anymore. I either walk or commute. Trust me, it’s so much easier not having to deal with the traffic and the lack of parking space. It also helps that my day-to-day activities are all within walking distance: the office, the track oval, the groceries, etc.
When my brain was finally done buffering, I asked him point-blank: “How much?”
He smiled and told me that what I was suggesting was illegal. Right there and then I didn’t know whether to be embarrassed or amused; either way, I again apologized for the misunderstanding and told him that I’d be more than happy to accept a ticket.
Then he explained. Under the law, he couldn’t answer my “how much” question with a specific figure. That would be illegal, he said. However, if I handed him a certain amount, upon my discretion, he would let me go with a warning.
I was taken aback by his logic, which he delivered in a very jovial manner. Mind you, throughout our conversation, he never stopped smiling; his voice never raised. Onlookers probably thought we were old friends having a chat.
I reached for my wallet, took out some money, and slipped it inside his leather ticket-holder, which he had placed in front of me in the driver’s seat so as not to be visible from the outside. I then told him to grab some lunch.
Everything felt so clandestine and, at the same time, so a-matter-of-fact. It was surreal.
A few more seconds of blah, blah, blah, and he bid me goodbye. I drove off. Just like that. As if everything that had just transpired was nothing out of the ordinary.
If the country could elect someone whose family stole billions from the government, what’s a few hundred pesos? Right?
(This story is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.)