When the good are punished
And the bad rewarded
Smash! I’m momentarily lifted off my seat upon impact. The woman my partner just stopped for at the pedestrian crossing nods at us apologetically, then hurries across the busy street—no one else had stopped—to the relative safety of the pavement.
My partner and I get off our Honda Cub to inspect the damage. The driver who rear-ended us, to his credit, stays put. We find nothing beyond a scratch on our storage box—not worth making a fuss over—and wave the culprit on his way.
It was the next day that I noticed the collision had broken in half the rack supporting Bertie’s backseat. A price we ended up paying for doing a good deed.
When the good are punished
Life as a pedestrian in Vietnam, speaking from three and a half years of experience, is incredibly precarious. Pavements are often non-existent or full of holes deep enough to break an unsuspecting ankle. Functioning pavements that do exist are usually converted into parking or food stalls or, worse, overrun by impatient motorcyclists when traffic is gridlocked.
Pedestrian crossings, lights or no lights, are decorative elements no driver heeds. The only way to cross the street is to pick a random spot, start walking and never stop, all the while staring down anyone who swerves too close. And should a socially-conscious, rule-following driver like my partner attempt the unthinkable… smash.
We ended up paying a considerable sum to get Bertie fixed. What’s more, the garage went and welded the two broken halves together instead of replacing the rack, and now Bertie is blemished. Which means, if we decide to move away and sell him, we’re not going to command as high a price. A second, delayed payment for doing a good deed.
Situations like this make me despair. How could we ever provide, in Vietnam, a road safe for pedestrians when the system is rigged against the few who care? How could we ever get drivers to stop at crossings if every time they do they risk getting rear-ended by everyone else?
I have no answer. I expect my partner doesn’t either.
Though I can tell you we haven’t stopped at a pedestrian crossing since.
And it gets worse.
When the bad are rewarded
Living away from home means I’m a regular at Ho Chi Minh City’s international airport. And each time I’m there, I’m painfully reminded of—next up in today’s series of rants—the perverse incentives of air travel.
You’ll probably have seen, if you’ve flown internationally, airline staff squeezing themselves between densely packed passengers at immigration/security, holding up a laminated sign for an imminently departing flight, asking those who should be on it to identify themselves so they could be fast-tracked.
I’ve seen this almost every time I’ve flown. And each time, I simmer.
Arrive at the airport three hours before your international flight, as the rulebook says you should, and waste hours in the interminable immigration and security lines. Roll up one hour before, you’ll practically get escorted to your plane, might even delay it in the process.
These are the perverse incentives of air travel. Arriving early promises no benefits. Arriving late exacts no costs. In fact, the tardy are rewarded by not being subjected to the considerable inconvenience of queuing. When the system is rigged like this, who in their right mind—save me and my partner—would arrive early?
To make matters worse, in a recent airport visit, the smiling check-in staff asked if I wanted to change to an earlier flight departing in an hour. This meant, by the time it normally took me to clear immigration and security, I’d already be en route to Bangkok.
I declined. My reasoning wasn’t entirely noble—I had little qualm about using the fast track; I just didn’t want the stress of rushing to catch my flight.
But I was tempted. And appalled. I know the staff was only trying to fill the earlier flight with zero intention of instilling a bad habit. But what message does this send to someone—like me—who’d arrived four hours early? Next time, waltz up an hour before to check in and you’ll still be fine.
It’s a messed up system that encourages selfish behaviour at the expense of everyone else. And if you don’t want to become part of the problem, what is there to do but quietly suffer in the endless immigration queue with all the good people who arrived early… and got punished for it?
What do you think?
Ours is an unjust world and will always be. But some injustices really do rub me the wrong way and I’m curious if you share my outrage.
When the good are punished and the bad rewarded, what is there to do?
What is your take? Any practical advice so I can take a stand against the wretched system without paying too high a price? Please hit “reply” or leave a comment—I read every response and I’d love to hear from you. If you want, share this post with someone who does a good deed even when they get punished for it, repeatedly.
Until next Friday… Stay thoughtful,
Val
Photo by Steve DiMatteo on Unsplash