This morning, Tuan was in high spirits. A message from the Department had just come in: his client’s company license had been approved. What a relief! He thought he was in for a smooth, peaceful day – the kind you pair with a hot cup of tea. His plan was simple: grab the license, snap a quick pic for the client, then reward himself with a steaming bowl of rare beef and brisket pho.
But alas, life had other plans. The moment he stepped into the Department, he was greeted by a government officer whose name sounded as serene and zen as a Buddhist mantra – soft as mist. Unfortunately, her attitude was more… thunderbolt than temple bell. At the sight of Tuan, she gave him a subtle hint that made his face fall:
“Hey sweetie, don’t forget to thank me – properly – right here.”
Wait, what? Since when is “mandatory gratitude” part of the Enterprise Law? Tuan thought to himself:
“Yikes. Our budget has no line for spiritual offerings. I’m definitely not paying this out of pocket. And what’s the going rate for this kind of ‘gratitude’ anyway?”
He remembered his boss’s warning before he left, echoing like a temple bell:
“Our client is a foreign investor. They expect clean, transparent procedures. No shady business. No under-the-table nonsense. Full stop.”
Why do we keep spoiling public officials by allowing and enabling this kind of envelope-passing? If businesses don’t give, these officials just make life harder for them out of ‘tradition.’ Saying ‘No’ is how we help clean up the system and the public service mindset. Isn’t this their duty and responsibility anyway?”
Tuan steeled himself. He sat down and waited. And waited… but he knew he was about to get a big serving of bureaucracy.
From 9 a.m. to nearly noon, person after person was called – but Tuan remained rooted in his seat like a bonsai tree trying to survive typhoon season.
Finally, he couldn’t take it anymore. He stepped forward and said:
“Excuse me, I got a message saying the license was ready. Why haven’t I been called?” am I missing something?”
The official shot him a look colder than winter ice and replied sweetly:
“It’s still waiting for upper management’s approval… You can go grab a coffee or something. I’ll call you when it’s ready. I’m busy!”
Meanwhile, the very pink-cover license he came to collect was lying right there next to her keyboard.
At this point, Tuan’s blood began to boil. He raised his voice slightly, but still held back from embarrassing her:
“Can you please explain why you haven’t processed this? I’m just here to collect a license, as stated in the appointment slip. Look here – ‘Scheduled time for result collection: 9:00 AM on February 15, 2017.’ I’ve waited almost three hours. Why haven’t you handed it over?”
“If it were still under review, I’d understand. But you sent me the message. If there’s any confusion, I’ll have to file a formal complaint or report this to your superiors.
At the words “complaint – report,” she visibly tensed, probably feeling her blood pressure spike. She fumbled for a moment, then pretended to “look something up” like Googling with no internet.
Eventually, she had no choice:
“Here you go! Please sign the back.”
Her tone dropped noticeably, but her glare was still sharp – like a premium Thai chef’s knife. Clearly, she was choking down her anger like an oversized ice cube in a lemon tea. Tuan knew this wouldn’t be the last time things got “fun.”
Before leaving, he politely left her a short note:
“Sorry, but our company has no ‘thank-you’ policy as per your request. You may want to reconsider your attitude, as the slogan ‘FRIENDLY OFFICIALS – SERVING THE PEOPLE’ is still prominently displayed at the entrance. I waited three hours without even daring to use the restroom, afraid I’d miss my name being called. Remember the saying: ‘The people know, the people discuss, the people do, the people supervise.’ You might want to be careful – or one day, you could lose that comfy chair, or worse – face criminal prosecution for accepting bribes.”
Tuan walked away, leaving behind a pair of eyes glaring at him like a starving cat. But at least, he walked away with his principles intact, his dignity preserved, and the license… safe and sound.
P.S. If you’re feeling hot or short of breath, maybe loosen that corset a bit it might help.
Excerpt from “Thank You” – A Short Story by Ha Kim
