how to get your NBI clearance without losing your sanity

Last month I applied in this government agency which was referred to me by a friend. Yesterday I was informed that they were considering me to fill a position in the legal department although what they need were lawyers.

Since I am still an under-bar (I am still waiting for the result to be realeased on the last week of March. Oh, GOd! Just the thought of it makes my heart beats faster. This waiting is killing me softly). I have to go through the usual process like any other applicant in the agency. I took a series of exams - IQ test, neurological exams, and the physical exam. They gave me a checklist of documents I have to submit: NBI clearance, Police clearance, MTC and RTC clearances, barangay clearance, TOR, etc.

So I rolled-up my sleeves and immediately proceeded to procure the papers. I never thought it would take me years and a fortune to obtain the requirements.

I went to the NBI office first. I lost my personal copy I obtained a year ago. Thanks to my prize-winning burara-ness, I have to secure again a new NBI clearance and go through a long torturous and tedious process. The renewal could have taken me a few minutes in Megamall.

I woke up early (meaning 10:00). Already at that time of the day, people who lined up to secure the NBI clearance stretched to infinity. Of course, I was at the furthest point that I needed a binocular to see what was going on in the front line. I knew it would take an eternity to reach the first window plus I had to endure the heat, hunger and the noise. I wanted to give up and come back the next day. But then I remembered my mother: Patience is a virtue.

You see in every challenging situation, I remember my mother vividly that I have to distract myself to get rid of the images in my mind- her big blabbering mouth, left hand on her waist and right hand raised with the forefinger pushing my forehead to instill her old age wisdom and virtue. Maybe that explains the permanent dent on my forehead.

Where am I? A huge billboard tells you what to do: Window 1, get the application form; Window 2, give the filled-up application form and get the order of payment; Window3, payment; Window 4 picture taking. Window 5, get the stub which tells you the day or time to claim the clearance; and Window 6 where to claim the NBI clearance (or something to that effect). With the rate we were going plus intense heat brought about by global warming and the noise, the windows translated to me as 6 circles of hell (Didn't Dante say it has 9?). Despite this, some moron will still come to you for instructions.


The office resembled a cluttered disorganized market. It discharged a cacophony of discordant noises- senseless conversations of women, takatak boys offering their yosi and candies and vendors shouting their goods depending on the time of the day and according to the needs of the people lining up. For instance, at 10:00, they sell breakfast and merienda like sandwiches, biko, pichi-pichi, chicharon. At 12:00, they offered lunch in plastics containing rice with dinuguan, bopis, kaldereta, pinakbet, fried tilapia... name it. At 1:00, they sell iced cold soft drinks, bottled mineral water or iced tap water in plastics and abanikos and other fancy fans. At 5:30, I half expected that they would offer papag, kulambo or kumot for those who failed to make it until the closing hours and wished to spend the night in time for the next working day.

I had grown nails and stubble when I reach the window I. Like a lazy overweight slug, the line slowly dragged itself. Thank goodness, I brought my ipod with me that I was able to break the boredom and drown the senseless chatter with my playlists. I must have been totally engrossed in Bob Marley and Sublime's Rasta Music that I didn’t notice I smoked my whole pack of Malboro lights.


It was already 3:00 when I reached the finger printing part. The old man must have been doing this for centuries that he mastered the skill. He does his job mechanically like a push-button robot.Using a paint brush, he painted black grease on the surface of what appeared to be glass on a table. Without even looking at me, he grabbed my hand darted each finger on the greased glass and stamped on the form. I just stood there like a moron who did not know what to do. Then he gave me wet tissue and asked for five pesos. I wasn’t even asked whether I wanted to buy; I was forced to buy it. Then and he called out the next in line.

The next stop in my long odyssey was the picture taking part. That means I was almost done but I had to wait for my turn again and there were over a hundred people before me. I noticed that the interval took days. I soon discovered the cause: one the there was only one camera, and two, the man in charged was doing something else, texting . Every 10 minutes his cellphone would beep and then he would leisurely reply. Every person had to wait before he realized that he was actually in an office and had job to perform. I was in UP-go-fight mood that I wanted to yell into his pockmarked face or as Miriam put it, fungus-faced but I composed myself lectured him in a more diplomatic tone.

I told the Moron: “Mister, we are paying for your services and we want it quick and efficient, so please keep your 3210 Nokia phone away. We have been here since crustaceous period. Most of us came from as far as Batanes and Sulu; we even skipped our lunch just so we could get what we needed today. And would you care to read what’s written on your dingy office wall? Oh, forget it I will read it you in case you don’t know how to read. It says, Mabilis na Serbisyo!"

The moron just rolled his eyes. I wished his eyes stuck in there in perpetuam.

During my turn, he just clicked the camera and captured my still angry and ngarag face. I was not even given the standard 1…2… 3… click so that I could have fixed my self and posed with my good angle which I have been practicing at home in the mirror. I was furious that I wanted to gouge his innards through his mouth and strangle him with his own intestines.

The following day I finally got my NBI Clearance. My image looked like somebody just shoved my face into the photocopy machine and ran it.

Now, I understand why most of the pictures in the NBI clearances are unflattering.