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The government does not reward dissenting opinions. I worried about losing the spark that had driven me to public service in the first place.
Today’s coffee has a unique flavor. As I sit with my steaming cup (LOL, I now drink hot Americano), I find myself drifting back to my younger days when the buzz of caffeine was not a necessity but a novelty.
Back in college, iced coffee was a symbol of shared experiences with friends in bustling cafés or classrooms as we crammed for our next class or paper submissions. Now, it serves a different purpose — a harsh remedy to escape from the constant duties of being a grown-up.
When I first stepped into the hallowed halls of government as a young, wide-eyed contract of service personnel, I felt like a tiny fish in a vast ocean teeming with sharks. Young, eager, and naive, I was thrust into a world dominated by veterans. As much as I would like to camouflage into the walls and keep my head down, I was not able to help it. I stood out — not always by choice, but by circumstance.
I have always believed that I could do more if I were part of the government. As an Iskolar ng Bayan, it was a way for me to give back to the people who supported my education. Additionally, the allure of being part of a transformative force fueled my enthusiasm. However, it was not long before the realities of the bureaucracy began to surface.
I recall a time when I told a more senior colleague that tables are better done in MS Excel than in MS Word. I was met with a grimace, labeled as a know-it-all, and given a heavier workload because “I know more than them,” apparently.
I wish I could say that it got better from there, but that would be a lie. My initial ideas, bursting with innovation and idealism, stood out against the backdrop of established practices and time-worn traditions. This same distinctiveness often placed me at odds with my colleagues, making me the dissenting voice, the lone objector in a sea of nodding heads. It was exhilarating and terrifying in equal measure.
The government does not reward dissenting opinions, and I have learned that the hard way. Agencies have mandates to fulfill, and I was just a minute piece of a puzzle. However, my greatest fear was not that I stood out, but rather that I would become jaded, letting the relentless tide of routine and resistance erode my resolve. I worried about losing the spark that had driven me to public service in the first place — the desire to make a difference, to be a beacon of integrity and hope somehow. I was afraid not to do the correct things, to compromise my principles in the face of expedience.
One of my former division chiefs told me: “Suck it up for now. Wait for your turn to change the system.”
I thought of it. She was in her 40s and brilliant at her job. People were saying that she could be the next director of the bureau if not for her predecessor holding on to the job until retirement.
Every day was a battle, not just against the external forces that sought to sway me but against my own doubts and fears. Countless times, I felt like quitting. But I cannot find another place where I feel like I have a purpose. Aside from that, I feel like stepping away from the government would leave a void that could be filled by individuals who might not possess the same dedication to honorable service.
Yes, I often romanticize my work.
Romanticizing involves constant reminders of why I was here and why I chose this path. It was for the people, for the greater good, for a future where integrity, transparency, and accountability weren’t just lofty ideals but lived realities. It was for the young people who, like me, believed in the power of change and the importance of standing firm in their convictions. Cheesy, indeed, but somewhere within me, I am holding on to these thoughts fervently.
These days, my coffee tastes more bitter. The responsibilities have multiplied, the bills stack higher, and the deliverables never seem to end. Each sip is a reminder of the challenges that lie ahead, a testament to the relentless grind. Yet, amidst this bitterness, a sweet taste would leave my mouth as I drank a cup.
Coffee, much like the journey of public service, is best enjoyed with company. To the young people out there, I extend an invitation: Join us in government.
Although, I must warn you, there are many fake individuals in the bureaucracy: those who fake their credentials, those who fake their accomplishments to appear productive, those who fake their daily time records, and there is I, someone who wants to fake it until I make it. – Rappler.com
RG Bernal is a professional yapper. She studies public management at the Ateneo School of Government.
