Mule
I was a mule today. Metaphorically, of course. For those who are uninformed, the term mule is commonly given to a person who is carrying something (contraband or illegal and most commonly drugs) across some distance (commonly customs) for someone or some organization.
For me, the items carried were not drugs, not usually illegal unless you bring it across customs undeclared and of course, the distance was across the customs. What made it even scarier was the large quantity of this item that I had to carry across in my haversack. It did not help that I was sweating like a pig from the gross weight of the items when I was walking across the customs with all the custom officers staring at me. Thankfully, they did not feel that I was “suspicious” enough and did not stop me at all.
I’m sure you are wondering by now why the heck did I do this? Well, it all began with an innocent question of “Hey! Can your passport allow you to enter and exit China freely?” Naturally, my reply was an equally ignorant “Yes.” With this tiny little word, both me and my other Singaporean colleague were “arrowed” and had to follow two other colleagues to do this extremely dreaded task.
This brings me to another question. How far would you go to not offend any of your superiors or colleagues? How many rules would you break for your work? How do you even say no to something like that?
Perhaps, this is my introductory module to Office Politics 101. Perhaps I have already failed it terribly. Hopefully, by the time the next request for “help” of this sort comes along, I would have figured out how to say no politely and firmly, without jeopardizing, my career.
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Mild Troubled.
Tee Hawwww.
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