One
Long and Tiring
Work Day
by: Ulysses Ybiernas ♦ June 13, 2013
A reflective account of work stress, delayed construction, and systemic corruption, capturing the emotional toll of financial strain, personal challenges, and the struggle to stay composed amid mounting pressure.
Work-place has become a difficult space for me now, not because of the tasks themselves, but because my mind refuses to settle. It feels tangled, caught in a web of worries that grow tighter with each passing day. At the center of it all is the deliberate delay by a government agency responsible for processing my documents. What should have been a simple process has turned into an agonizing standstill.
Because of this, the construction of my house has been frozen for more than a month. The scaffolding stands idle, tools gather dust and stolen, and the sound of progress, once steady and reassuring, has fallen silent. My carpenters, men who depend on daily wages, now wait with nothing to do. Each passing day without work means empty pockets and skipping meals. The weight of that responsibility presses heavily on me.
When I contacted them via phone, asking calmly, respectfully if the process could be expedited, I was met not with professionalism, but with something far more disheartening. “How much can you afford to speed it up?” they asked, as if it were the most natural question in the world. In that moment, the reality of corruption revealed itself not as an abstract issue, but as something immediate, suffocating, and deeply personal. It wasn’t just inefficiency, it was a system quietly demanding to be fed.
Meanwhile, the bank refuses to release the necessary funds until that document is submitted. Everything is suspended in a cruel loop of dependency: no documents, no funds; no funds, no progress. It feels less like a process and more like a game designed to exhaust those who refuse to play by its unspoken rules.
Despite all this, I try to maintain a sense of control at work. Customers come and go, unaware of the storm beneath the surface, and I make every effort to ensure they are not affected by it. Professionalism demands composure, but lately, even that has been tested. My wife is home for a vacation from her job abroad, something that should be a source of comfort. Yet, small misunderstandings have surfaced, nothing serious, nothing lasting, but enough to add another layer of strain to an already burdened mind.
Physically, I feel drained. My energy, usually sustained by coffee and a daily supplement, is noticeably absent today. I forgot both this morning. Now, every movement feels heavier, every task slower. I can’t tell if it’s simple fatigue or if my mind, overwhelmed by everything else, is amplifying the exhaustion.
The day began quietly, almost deceptively so. Only one customer walked in during the first hour, and for a moment, I thought I might be granted a slower pace. But that illusion shattered quickly. A group of four clients arrived at once, filling the silence with urgency. I stand alone at the counter, the empty teller station beside me is a silent reminder that there is no one to share the load.
Yesterday was Independence Day, a national holiday. And like clockwork, the day after a holiday always brings a surge of people rushing to complete what they couldn’t do the day before. I can already feel it building up. The calm is temporary; the flood is inevitable.
It will be a long day today. There’s no escaping that. The only way forward is to take it one moment at a time, steadying myself against the current.
And yet, beneath all these immediate struggles lies a deeper frustration. Corruption is not just an inconvenience, it is a disease, insidious and relentless, eroding trust and weakening the very foundation of governance. When it becomes embedded in the culture, normalized to the point of expectation, what chance does an ordinary citizen have against it?
For now, I endure. But I hold on to a quiet hope, that one day, a leader with courage and integrity will rise, confront this decay, and begin the difficult work of restoring what has been lost. Until then, we wait, we struggle, and we carry on.
“Some battles are not fought in the open, but in waiting rooms, where patience is tested, dignity is priced, and silence is expected.”
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