10 Years, 3 Degrees, Zero Respect

Illustration of how to deal with a toxic environment

The wellspring of hope and trust has run dry. This institution, once envisioned as the bedrock of my dedication, now feels like a hollow stage for a bad play—a place where merit dies in silence. I’ve searched my memory, desperate for one honest reason to offer a perfunctory thank you. The ledger remains brutally blank.

The cruel irony of rank

My disillusionment began immediately. I entered government service with a Master's degree and a higher administrative rank. Yet, my actual job placement was a cruel joke that lasted almost four years.

This was the great irony: a higher salary class, but a job description straight from the basement. The duties were tasks scandalously beneath my credentials: checking wall-mounted air conditioners, procuring stationery and household supplies, managing social media, and drafting polite replies for student internships. The essential, official work? That was reserved for others. I even heard from an HR staff member, whose conscience was clearly pricked, that he had attempted to defend my position because the tasks were so far below my qualifications.

The message was clear: my qualifications were noted, but my capabilities were denied. I even endured petty bullying just for daring to use an email signature that identified me as a candidate Instructional Officer. Their cynical laughter and scornful dismissals became the background noise of my routine.

Around 2016-2017, I witnessed the full extent of this toxicity. While assisting with the recruitment process for the very Instructional Officer role I desired, I saw firsthand that the shortlist was often demonstrably inferior to others. It became chillingly clear: the selection process was a theatrical formality, where the Director had already pre-selected the beneficiaries.

When I dared to ask if I, too, could submit my file, the rejection was sharp: "Belum waktunya. Tidak cukup administrasi" (Not yet. The administration is insufficient). This, despite being one of five master graduates in Marine and Fisheries Science hired at the time. The institutional promise that brought me here was a hollow fabrication. Years later, the office is hiring for that very position. What magical ingredient was I judged to lack? No mentorship, no development, or training whatsoever.

When the PhD didn't matter

The tide finally turned in 2019, following a change in leadership. I was finally appointed to the Instructional Officer position.

The brief period of hope came during the pandemic, under a truly brilliant Professor from a University. He was the only leader who understood management principles and practiced meritocracy, free of regional or ethnic bias. It was short-lived. He was soon replaced by the very individual who had orchestrated my earlier misery—a former leader whose return was secured through political influence (the "playing tennis" story), not merit.

My subsequent trials became a routine of persecution. Even with my new title, the pressure remained. The research lab I developed was ordered shut down for "cost-saving," despite my work on my Doctoral research. The climax arrived when my travel abroad for my PhD research was impeded on the absurd grounds that it had "no relevance to office duties." At that point, my respect for the bureaucracy was nonexistent. I went anyway. It was the moment I cemented my exile.

Since his return, I have received virtually no significant assignments. My training proposals are dead on arrival. The situation even continued after he was replaced, as he remained in the office as different position (but looks like higher than the actual Director), his influence still controlling the new leadership. I was receiving a salary for a job I was not allowed to do.

The ultimate evidence of this toxic environment? Upon my PhD graduation, not a single word of congratulations or appreciation was issued by the office.

PhD with bloods and tears

The future reflection

Fortunately, pockets of professional trust remained. I stayed active in the Professional Certification Body (LSP) and other neutral groups. I was forced to become my own institution: writing articles, managing journals, and developing new projects outside the purview of the main office.

In 2024, almost a decade of service, I requested a simple transfer, but the Director denied it with a host of nonsensical excuses. The message was unmistakable: I was being held captive. This denial sealed my fate, leading to my complete isolation from all official national assignments.

My story is not just a personal grievance; it is a critique of a system that values political maneuvers and petty control over genuine competence and dedication. It is a source of deep anxiety about the future of a system that actively discourages its qualified professionals.

I ask myself now, and I ask the system: What reason remains for me to serve this office with passion, enthusiasm, and a heart full of love?

The answer is final. I believe there is nothing left.