Mei Ming Chen
The office smelled the same as it always had: a faint mix of musty paperwork, cheap air freshener, and frustration. I sat in the same kind of metal chair I used to watch citizens sink into during my years in public service in Chengdu, China. This time, I was on the other side of the desk, clutching my forms, waiting for my turn.
It was a simple matter—or so I had thought. A correction to my property registration, one wrong digit in my address. A clerk would fix it, stamp it, and I’d be on my way. Yet, after two visits and nearly an hour of waiting, I was informed, without apology, that my file was still “under review.”
“Can’t you just check it again?” I asked, careful to keep my tone polite.
The young man behind the desk glanced up, his expression weary. “The system is processing. Come back in three weeks.”
Three weeks? For a single digit? I opened my mouth to protest but stopped myself. How many times had I given a similar answer, firmly, dispassionately? How often had I sat there, telling people the rules were the rules?
I left the office simmering, replaying his dismissive tone and the way he’d avoided looking at me as if my presence were an inconvenience. On the bus ride back through Chengdu's bustling streets, I realized my frustration wasn’t just with him but with the machine I had once been a part of. How many times had I dismissed someone with those same bureaucratic platitudes? How many systems had I trusted, uncritically, to do what was "right"?
I’m 68 now, and in retirement, I have time to think. Time to wonder if the efficiency I prided myself on was a kindness or a cruelty disguised as duty. I think about the citizens who came to me with trembling hands, trying to explain their circumstances, and how I listened with one ear while ticking boxes with the other.
The laws, the forms, the processes—they’re meant to be fair. But fairness is not felt in the same way by everyone. What felt orderly from my desk back then feels inflexible from this side now.
I’ll go back in three weeks, of course. But I’ll go with a sharper awareness of what it means to be heard—and what it means when you’re not.