I was born in Manaus in 1971. The Free Trade Zone was only 14 years old and was beginning to produce its beneficial effects on the city. Even though I was very poor, for as long as I can remember, I always wanted to be a scientist [ 1 ]. I dreamed of studying at Unicamp. The dream became a reality in 1991. Since I couldn't afford rent, I got a place in the Unicamp Student Housing, in house H2. I did my shopping at a small grocery store. I walked there and back, with bags containing, basically, instant noodles, canned tuna, milk, chocolate milk powder, and filled cookies for breakfast. Simple life. Money was literally counted for transportation, food on weekends (instant noodles with tuna or hot dogs), and cafeteria meal tickets. Sometimes, I had a few coins left over, which I spent buying books in the now-defunct bookstores in downtown Campinas.
Since every penny mattered, I always paid close attention to where and how I spent my cruzeiros. I remember one occasion when, while paying at the supermarket checkout, I lost my patience with the cashier because, for the thousandth time (obviously an exaggeration), I had to complain about the wrong price. However, what really annoyed me was that the difference was always higher, never lower. Genuine errors have a random pattern: some higher, others lower. It seemed intentional. In a fit of anger, I asked, "Why is the price always higher?" The cashier didn't answer me. Her eyes, anguished and sad, met mine and, in silence, she corrected the price of the product.
On my way home, carrying my groceries, I couldn't stop thinking about how absurd the situation was. Consistently overcharging was a form of theft. Why would she do that? I was just as poor as she was. Surely, that "theft" wouldn't go into her pocket, since it was recorded, and a quick accounting check would reveal the shortage if she appropriated the stolen amount. To me, it simply didn't make sense. My anger only grew with each step I took. Almost arriving at the Residence, I remembered the look we exchanged. A chill ran down my spine! What if she were forced to do it that way? No—I thought—no one would force me to do that. If someone tried, I would quit on the spot. I wouldn't work in a place where the moral standards were so low!
My thoughts were already drifting when another, even more unsettling, doubt occurred to me: what if I were married and had children? Would the decision be so easy? That young woman must have been around thirty years old. She was probably married. Did she have children? I don't know. However, if that was her only source of income, a request from her boss, however indecent, would sound like an order she couldn't refuse. Yes, life isn't simple. At that time, as a student, my responsibilities were limited. I could make radical choices, and the only one affected would be myself. Perhaps that employee had to choose between right and wrong, with the survival of her own children as the backdrop. What would I do in that situation?
I like to fantasize that I would choose the right thing. Ah, self-deception! We always imagine ourselves to be better than we really are. It was reflecting on this event, decades later, that I understood one of the main reasons for the job security of public servants at all levels of government. No public servant can be coerced into committing a wrongdoing for fear of losing their livelihood. In the event that a superior (or any individual) harasses them to commit an illegal act, they can simply refuse. Obviously, let's not be naive: they will suffer other types of retaliation, but they will not lose their job and, therefore, will not expose their family to hardship. Job security allows public servants to always do the right thing. Perhaps they would use this "superpower" more! That cashier could rationalize her misconduct and even sleep peacefully, but no public servant with job security will have that mitigating circumstance—leaving them no alternative but to face their own pusillanimity or bad character.
This text does not necessarily reflect the opinion of Unicamp.
[ 1 ] Probably inspired by children's cartoons of the time that portrayed (mad) scientists as people who solved everything.
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