Picture this in an office during Christmas: an eager mid-level manager slips a lavish hamper of imported ham and wine into his boss’s awaiting arms, all smiles as he eyes the corner office upstairs. Isn’t this raw, unfiltered politics invading the workplace, like termites in the walls? This is a common, sneaky climb disguised as goodwill.
I’ve watched it unfold in humid cubicles, where the air thickens with ambition around December and other special occasions. Employees who once shared adobo recipes now calculate gift values like stock trades, wrapping lechon baskets or gold bracelets to “grease the wheels.” It’s not generosity; it’s a transaction, a festive bribe that mocks the season’s spirit of giving without strings. This gift-showering leads to false bonds, turning holiday cheer into a rung on a ladder.
Shift to the shadows, and it gets uglier—the backstabbing brigade. That same manager, gift delivered, starts whispering to superiors about a rival’s “laziness,” planting seeds of doubt like weeds in a rice paddy. No facts, just innuendo: “Heard he skips meetings for side hustles.” It’s reputation demolition, pure and simple, where lies spread faster than jeepney gossip on market day.
This isn’t random chaos; it’s politics’ playbook, imported from the barangay hall to the boardroom. Ambitious souls leverage every angle, from flattery in the pantry to anonymous memos that “expose” flaws. They grab positions not by merit but by maneuvering, turning colleagues into collateral. I’ve seen solid workers sidelined, their years of quiet hustle trashed overnight.
The culprits are like roosters in a cockpit, strutting and pecking for the top perch, feathers flying in a blur of red. Except these “roosters” wear polos and pretend it’s teamwork. The degradation hits when they spread propaganda—fabricated tales of incompetence or theft—discrediting incumbents to clear their path. Trust crumbles, leaving a workplace scarred like a monsoon-flooded street.
Philosophically, it mirrors reality’s ugliness: power vacuums give rise to these games wherever humans gather. We can’t escape politics; it’s woven into promotions, just as it fuels elections. Yet pretending it’s absent invites the worst players to thrive; their tricks are echoes of unchecked hunger. This isn’t ambition; it’s a predation dressed in office casual.
What disheartens most is the human cost, the avalanche of trust that lingers like stale humid air. Victims, once confident, second-guess every email; teams fracture into whispers. I’ve felt that chill myself, going through alliances that shift like tides. It’s not just positions lost—it’s morale, that fragile glue holding us together.
Why not rise above by shining through work that speaks louder than gifts or gossip? Build real alliances on results, call out the snakes with calm, evidence-based proof, and watch integrity outlast the schemers. In this game, we can’t dodge. Choosing honor isn’t naive—it’s the sharpest blade.
