“Willing to Wait”
Grace was late. Again.
Today, she left her house at 4:30am in order to guarantee clocking in before her shift started at 8am. Previously, she left at 5am, but after several tardiness violations affecting her pay, she finally accepted that three hours was no longer sufficient time for her to brave Manila’s horrendous morning commute.
First, she had to walk one kilometer from her house to the main highway to catch a jeepney that dropped her off at the nearest train station.
Once at the station, she patiently fell in line and waited for her turn to board — a line so long that it zigged and zagged and spilled over to the outside of the train station, with commuters squeezing themselves in narrow sidewalks, vulnerable to reckless drivers, the heat of the sun, and torrential rains. Staying in line, in this case, easily stole at least an hour from her day.
When Grace finally alighted, the train ride took another hour — that is, if she and other passengers were lucky enough to board a functioning train. Occasionally, a train line would malfunction, forcing commuters to hop off, dangerously walking the tracks to the nearest train station, and wait for another train to pass by or find an alternate mode of transportation altogether.
When she reached her destination station, she needed to hop on one final mode of transit — a shuttle that dropped her off near her company’s office building.
This was Grace’s daily plight, venturing the roads of Manila for hours on end just to get to work and earn a living. Unfortunately, leaving 30 minutes earlier this time around still was not enough to get herself to work on time.
At her company, Grace was a collections agent, spending most of her days in front of a computer and calling up customers one by one to remind them of their outstanding debt. It was a thankless job, being berated often for contacting people about their financial obligations. Rarely did she encounter customers that had been gracious and apologetic. Oftentimes though, Grace simply waited and listened to the phone ringing until the person on the other line picked up. Most of the time, they left her hanging.
During her lunch break, Grace received a message from the agency that had been processing her paperwork to move to Dubai as an Overseas Filipino Worker.
“Grace, we’ve had attrition in the agency, so we are understaffed at the moment. We have a lot of applications coming in and are unable to process all paperwork at this time. Your application is delayed indefinitely,” Grace read the text on her phone.
She would be a domestic helper, if all goes smoothly, and the pay would be thrice what she has been making at her current job. It would afford her a better opportunity to provide for her husband and three young children, even if it meant being far from them — a small sacrifice in the grander scheme of things.
Grace shook her head and put her phone down, disappointed by the news. But she had no additional funds to pay the agency for fast-tracking the process, so there was nothing else for her to do but to get back to her current job and wait once again.
When her shift ended at 5pm, Grace exited the building and was welcomed by heavy downpour. She took out her portable umbrella, then got ready for another pilgrimage back home. Under these rainy conditions, the rush hour traffic certainly had gotten worse. She’d be lucky if she made it home by 8pm. She already knew she wouldn’t have time to prepare dinner, so she made a note to herself to pass by a fast food chain and order food to go for the entire family before heading home.
It was ten past eight when Grace, soaking wet, entered the fast food chain, lined up, and placed her order. Two one-piece chicken rice meals, three spaghetti meals, no fries, no drinks. All for takeout.
“Ma’am, the next batch of chicken meals won’t be ready for another 10 minutes. Willing to wait?” The cashier asked.
Grace stared at the cashier and exhaled in resignation. “Willing to wait.”