Miasma

One of the worst things about work is the smell.

On some days, the police bring in a large group of detainees. Sometimes, they bring in a major haul from a drug bust or other operation. No matter the reason, the halls become crowded and packed with people.

To call them "people" is just good manners. But these are the true "masang Pilipino". The poor, the forgotten, the wretched, the desperate and the guilty all find their way in those godforsaken halls and when they do, oh boy. As you can imagine, these dregs of society aren't a hygienic bunch.

The smell is hard to describe. It first hits you like a slap in the face and you feel like you're actually walking into some kind of physical wall. The smell is a potent mixture of stale sweat, unwashed clothes, excrement and despair left to stew in a barrel of vinegar. It's the smell of raw humanity; the illness of our society in a new form. If you can't see what's wrong with the Philippines, then you'll certainly smell it.

The smell is so strong that if you spend a minute in midst of the teeming mass, it actually starts to stick on your clothes, on your hair... on your face. You could breath through your mouth but your body might actually retch in fear of contamination by some sort of airborne acid. It's a smell that brings to mind thoughts of plague, death, decay and ruin. That wouldn't be wrong. If the people are detainees from the local overcrowded prison, there is a legitimate concern of contracting some kind of illness. Inmates are sickly as a natural consequence of prison congestion, not that anyone cares. They might as well be lepers.

Did I mention the office building has practically no ventilation and on top of that, its also extremely dusty? Just take a deep breath of the still tolerable air before you leave the office and then rush through the halls as fast as possible. You can run if you want to, people will understand.

Hazard pay.