It has been twenty years since I last stepped into a classroom as a student, and now it’s time to return. I’m going for my PhD in Counseling at CEU—the final installment of my academic ambitions. The application fee’s been paid, and during the process, I discovered that paying for the school’s fees in the long term will be easier through online banking.. But I don’t have an account in this school’s particular bank yet, so I decided to open a new account a few days ago. I’m writing this to share with you what I learned because of my experience.
In short, the waiting was long and torturous, especially for someone who’s not comfortable using smartphones on the go. Yet the experience made me reflect on just how much I’ve changed over the years.
The biggest shift I have noticed is that I am less judgy of people now. I treat others as my equals because, in some form or another, they are. That’s quite a basic attitude to adopt, isn’t it? But coming from my background, it’s not my default setting.
I’ve always considered myself a humanist in my approach. I’m an atheist, but I’m egalitarian to the core. In theory, I don’t discriminate. And yesterday, in that bank, I saw that it’s not just theory anymore—I’m starting to embodying it.
I went into the bank bright and early, all business. But midway through my transactions, I had to step out and visit another bank nearby. By the time I returned, my seat had been taken. The bank personnel I had been speaking with—let’s call her Lady in Blouse—was now juggling multiple tasks: animatedly talking with two new customers, answering an intern’s questions, responding to phone calls, and dealing with Insurance Selling Guy seated beside her. Clearly, I wasn’t a priority anymore.
The surface emotion I felt in this scenario was red-hot irritation. Anger at my powerlessness. I was seething, and if you know me, you can see it all in my face. I’m pretty sure I was giving every person in the bank that look. However, as the minutes passed by, as I continually bemoaned my lack of premeditation for not charging the phone, I noticed sparks of compassion for Lady in Blouse.
Well, look at her. She wasn’t even in a bank uniform, which told me she was likely an entry-level employee. She was trying her best, but the demands were relentless.
Simultaneously experiencing anger and sympathy, I wrote in my journal (yes, I still handwrite it). Because I’m not using the smartphone, I had no recourse but to turn inwards to my thoughts. I’ve always advocated for less smartphone dependency, which is why I carry an outdated Samsung—just good enough to book a MoveIt (motorcycle ridesharing) when I need to. This time, my unconventional habit worked in my favor.
Eventually, when I got thirsty, in the midst of a hot flash, I turned to the intern-looking guy and asked for a glass of water. Then, I addressed one of the tellers:
“Can someone else assist me? Maybe another counter can open?”
At first, bank personnel told me to just keep waiting. But a few minutes later, something shifted. Maybe they realized their mistake; maybe I looked like I was going to walk away with my resting b*tch face.
This whole experience boiled down to two realizations:
First, there’s been a fundamental shift in me. The way I observe people, the way I balance both compassion and boundaries—I wouldn’t have navigated this situation the same way decades ago. That matters. And second, I have to say what I need. Not in the forceful, brutal way my father did. Not too soft-spoken or apologetic either. Just midway—better yet, in my own way.
Growing up, I lived under The Power—my father’s authoritarian, narcissistic parenting. He hammered my self-esteem to bits. I was raised with a winner-takes-all, my-way-or-the-highway mentality. That deep programming led to a scarcity mindset that I’m still trying to unlearn.
But I am unlearning it. I like this change in me.
I’m still reflecting on all of this. And I’m marking this moment and celebrating it—because if there’s hope for me, there’s hope for you.
We can all start—slowly and subtly—moving toward better versions of ourselves. And in the end, that benefits not just us, but everyone around us. Because self-improvement isn’t selfish; it is a form of self-transcendence, allowing us to be better humans as we live the rest of our lives on Earth.
The featured image on this blog was AI-generated by me using free tools, namely ChatGPT, Canva, and Leonardo AI. I use these images to support my written content creatively and cost-effectively.
