A couple of weeks back, you had to spend the night over at the apartment because of the terrible, terrible weather; it would be best, you decided, to just go with me to the MRT station the following morning when I would be on my way to work. You were planning on heading over to Ayala anyway to get some things for school, and I, on the other hand, will be going to Cubao, work-bound. Now, the Boni MRT station is different from the other stations as both the northbound and southbound platforms are shared, so the sunny, electric blue-skied Monday morning found us sitting on the same bench, talking about nothing in particular while waiting for our respective trains.
As what is expected of any self-respecting slacker, I was tossing around the idea of going with you to Ayala in my head instead of reporting for work that day. It was all very simple, really. Call in sick, and I’d have the whole day to myself. I was due for another sick day anyway. I was feeling like a high school student. I told you about it, and, as what is expected of any self-respecting kunsintidor, you said quite casually, “Why not?”
Why not, indeed? Why pass up the chance to be with you a few hours longer, and not have to think about work for the rest of the day?
A rumbling sound and a draft of wind heralded the arrival of your train. We both stood up and walked to a yellow arrow on the floor. “Sige na,” you said with a smirk. I smiled back, bit my lip, but said nothing. The train halted, and the sliding doors opened. You stepped in, looked back at me, and pointed to a space beside you. Two seconds, and I took one step back. I felt a shuddering in my soul, not unlike the feeling when someone walks over your grave. Three seconds, and there was a long beep. The doors closed, and the train jolted back to life again. Behind the transparent glass, you looked like a vagabond memory, recently escaped from my fantasies. You smiled, and waved. I barely noticed my train arriving behind me, wrenching me away from my reverie and sucking me back to where I was -- facing a worn-out yet vaguely familiar path, like a child waking up from a dream.
I felt it, when my life split in two paths. The one where I jumped into the train with you, and the one where I didn't -- the one that actually transpired. Of course I could not help but think of what could have happened, had I gone with you that day. No, not what could have happened immediately after (because I know I would have had a blast), but its long-term consequences. The Butterfly Effect. Would it have been a right -- rather, better -- decision?
A few nights ago we had a conversation online. It was a rather relatively ordinary conversation, really. School, work, nothing too heavy... that is, until about towards the end. You said something about meeting up soon, and proceeded on to list your schedule for the following days. I responded simply by saying I can free up any schedule for you. That must have opened the floodgates though, because all of a sudden, everything was laid out in the open -- everything, namely, my feelings for you, and how you feel about them. As your words started scrolling up line by leadened line, I was feeling... fascinated. Like a psychiatrist who's been told a particularly interesting detail. Although I knew that you knew how I feel for you, I never really thought you would acknowledge it. Eventually you would, of course, but at this stage in our friendship, I didn't think it would be brought up. So I sat there in frozen fascination, reading all you had to say about me and how I feel about you.
You said it made you feel awkward whenever I do sweet things for you -- like surprising you with a copy of Jose Garcia Villa's Collected Poems when we were at the Book Fair for instance, or saying little things, like, "I can free up my schedule for you." You said you were trying to shake it off, that feeling of being awkward, because you wouldn't want to feel weird whenever we're together. You said that sometimes, you wanted to be sweet to me, too, like how you are with your other friends, but you're afraid I might misinterpret your gestures -- which you would not want to happen because (and this you insisted on strongly) you value our friendship a lot. I was taking everything in, in rapt attention.
Margaret Atwood was saying the truth. "If you knew what was going to happen, if you knew everything that was going to happen next -- if you knew in advance the consequences of your own actions -- you'd be doomed. You'd be as ruined as God. You'd be a stone. You'd never eat or drink or laugh or get out of bed in the morning. You'd never love anyone, ever again. You'd never dare to." Because although you caught me off-guard, I knew -- I understood everything already. Most people would claim it as arrogance, but I can say it with nary a shred of pretension or assumption. I understand how you feel. I lived with it, slept with it, woke up with it, had dinner with it, walked unfamiliar streets with it, watched fireworks with it, laughed and cried and got mad with it... everything. Completely. I felt such familiarity with it, it became ME.
I understand that even if my life split in different paths, even if the Universe were to lay down all the crossroads and sliding doors it can offer, I can never be with you, R. And no decision, no choice I make from here on out can be better than the other. And that is my truth; and that is my ruin.
Sunday, September 28, 2008
Sunday, September 21, 2008
Twice
In the past one year and seven months that I've stayed with this company, I have almost been reduced to tears twice.
The first time was about seven months ago when I was still doing bits of work in operations. It was the evening when I passed my resignation letter to my Supervisor. Our team was going to be dissolved within a week, and rather than being transferred to another team, I decided it would be best to just leave. I was telling myself that the past year with my team has been amazing, that it was too good to be true, and I knew in my heart of hearts that it wouldn't have lasted anyway. That this is how things usually go in this industry -- that careers are, at best, a temporal thing. I told myself then (convinced, really) that it must be time once again to rethink of the path that I should be taking, and finally figure out if I would really like to do art for good.
The team was already having its usual pre-shift briefing when I arrived. I stayed silent from the minute I sat myself down by my workstation, until the briefing was over. I honestly couldn't register what was being said, as how things usually are when one is wracked by other, more powerful distractions in the mind. I did hear it, however, when my Supervisor called my attention and asked what I thought of what she said. Nobody noticed my shaking form underneath my thick sweater when I stood up and handed over my letter. I wanted to say something, but a burning, boiling sensation steamed up all the words forming in my throat.
Obviously, the path I thought of taking from that evening onwards was redirected since I'm still here in the same company. She told me of an opening in the HR Department and suggested that I try applying for it. She believed in me and, bless her wise and kind soul, supported me all the way. Work with HR has been nothing but difficult, and sometimes I even think it might have been better if I did leave that night seven months ago, but I'm still grateful for the nudge she gave me and the faith she placed on me, that it's been one of my main sources of strength to push harder on. And that was the first time I almost cried because of work.
The second time was Friday night, during the meeting with the Program Manager for our online English teaching account. I planned to keep silent, let my boss do the talking, and just speak when spoken to. And I was spoken to. My boss asked me about the applicants whom the manager tagged as "buffers," and I relayed the status of each. The manager was nodding, until she heard the name of one candidate. "Who is he? I don't remember speaking with him," she said.
"He's the gay guy," I said in a monotone. "You decided not to speak with him anymore," I looked at her straight in the eye, and I couldn't help a crack in my voice, "when you found out he was gay. You never even gave him a chance."
I'm sure the others in the meeting noticed it. It took a lot to keep myself in control. I whispered a quiet apology to my boss, and I let them continue with the discussion. I was profoundly hurt, even when I thought I wouldn't be. I wasn't angry, to my surprise. But I did feel a wrenching in my chest. Pity, I suppose. I pitied her, for being the way she was, for the way she looked at the world. But she's young though, and she has yet to learn a lot. I learned a lot, dealing with her, but it's something I never want to go through again. And that was the second time I almost cried because of work.
The first time was about seven months ago when I was still doing bits of work in operations. It was the evening when I passed my resignation letter to my Supervisor. Our team was going to be dissolved within a week, and rather than being transferred to another team, I decided it would be best to just leave. I was telling myself that the past year with my team has been amazing, that it was too good to be true, and I knew in my heart of hearts that it wouldn't have lasted anyway. That this is how things usually go in this industry -- that careers are, at best, a temporal thing. I told myself then (convinced, really) that it must be time once again to rethink of the path that I should be taking, and finally figure out if I would really like to do art for good.
The team was already having its usual pre-shift briefing when I arrived. I stayed silent from the minute I sat myself down by my workstation, until the briefing was over. I honestly couldn't register what was being said, as how things usually are when one is wracked by other, more powerful distractions in the mind. I did hear it, however, when my Supervisor called my attention and asked what I thought of what she said. Nobody noticed my shaking form underneath my thick sweater when I stood up and handed over my letter. I wanted to say something, but a burning, boiling sensation steamed up all the words forming in my throat.
Obviously, the path I thought of taking from that evening onwards was redirected since I'm still here in the same company. She told me of an opening in the HR Department and suggested that I try applying for it. She believed in me and, bless her wise and kind soul, supported me all the way. Work with HR has been nothing but difficult, and sometimes I even think it might have been better if I did leave that night seven months ago, but I'm still grateful for the nudge she gave me and the faith she placed on me, that it's been one of my main sources of strength to push harder on. And that was the first time I almost cried because of work.
The second time was Friday night, during the meeting with the Program Manager for our online English teaching account. I planned to keep silent, let my boss do the talking, and just speak when spoken to. And I was spoken to. My boss asked me about the applicants whom the manager tagged as "buffers," and I relayed the status of each. The manager was nodding, until she heard the name of one candidate. "Who is he? I don't remember speaking with him," she said.
"He's the gay guy," I said in a monotone. "You decided not to speak with him anymore," I looked at her straight in the eye, and I couldn't help a crack in my voice, "when you found out he was gay. You never even gave him a chance."
I'm sure the others in the meeting noticed it. It took a lot to keep myself in control. I whispered a quiet apology to my boss, and I let them continue with the discussion. I was profoundly hurt, even when I thought I wouldn't be. I wasn't angry, to my surprise. But I did feel a wrenching in my chest. Pity, I suppose. I pitied her, for being the way she was, for the way she looked at the world. But she's young though, and she has yet to learn a lot. I learned a lot, dealing with her, but it's something I never want to go through again. And that was the second time I almost cried because of work.
Saturday, September 06, 2008
Dooced, If You Want Me To Be
Our company has online English learning as one of its accounts. It's a program where Chinese and Koreans are taught how to speak English over the phone. Basically, the "teachers" have about 10- to 15-minute conversations with each student, coaching them on their grammar and pronunciation. Nothing too heavy. Their students already know how to speak English; they just need a bit more polishing. It really shouldn't be a problem doing recruitment for this team, right?
WRONG. And if cyberspace will allow it, I would like to exorcise this demon by writing something that might increase my chances of getting fired. It is my hope to be forgiven, writing down this long-drawn curse, if not actually and entirely understood.
While it's true that every manager has the right to pick the people who will be working under him/her, it becomes an entirely different matter when various factors are considered.
For starters, how much are you paying the people you'll be hiring? Be honest, because it's not a lot, relative to your competitors. The HR Manager from a year ago said such wise words: "Throw peanuts, and you get monkeys." Besides, what will your people be doing anyway? It's not like they will be engineering a sophisticated module of English-learning innovations for foreigners, to be recognized internationally by every prestigious educational organization. Not really. They will be having conversations like, "So how was tennis today?" or "Doesn't that dog smell awful?" or "My finger is up my nose while I'm dancing the hokey pokey. Can you repeat that?" You want people who graduated from Ateneo or La Salle to do this? One can dream, of course, and sometimes, dreams do come true, but face it, the people who do decide to board your ship of wack are either bored and are just waiting for something better to come their way and then eventually bail out, OR they're just as drugged out as you -- and then eventually bail out.
It is such a mystery why you cannot trust the Recruitment Department to give you people who are good enough to do the things you want done -- and who will agree to the salary you will be giving them. You dismiss them for the simplest of things, too. She didn't pronounce this particular word the right way (then tell her to pronounce it the right way -- it's just one word after all, and something she won't be using that often), he didn't display enough "passion for teaching" (you mean he's not as doped up as you?), she isn't cult material enough... Reasons so inane, so childish, so immature, and so impractical for someone who runs a program, it's a wonder why you're still where you are. OK, it's not really strange. You have money, you come from a well-known family, and you use connections to make yourself stick like a barnacle to a sinking ship, while everyone else suffers. And if you tell me one has no right to be judged by someone else, I will tell you to look around you -- REALLY look around you -- and you try judging yourself.
I cannot forget the one evil thing I had to go through because of you. One applicant -- very promising in terms of skill -- who passed two interviews already, and whom you agreed to schedule for a final interview, I had to tell him to go home because suddenly, SUDDENLY, after making him come back for three consecutive days, you don't want to talk to him anymore. That was very unprofessional, unethical, impolite, and downright mean of you. And who had to take the fall for it? Who had to face the applicant and apologize for your meanness? Of course it had to be someone else. Do I make you guess who drew the booby prize?
I got over it eventually, although it left a mighty fine scar in my heart. I told myself I will go through every crap this company throws my way for one year, and then I'd leave. But the shit finally hit the fan the other day. I once again endorsed someone who would do really well in your program. Again, just like most others, he passed the interview with Recruitment, and he passed the interview with your Supervisor. But when your turn came, your Supervisor told me you'd rather not take him BECAUSE HE'S GAY. She told me that you said Koreans get confused and it affects their learning.
I think several threads in my brain snapped. THAT'S IT. I have never experienced outright homophobia before, and I never thought it would be this... hurtful. You are one evil person, and even if you do not realize it, you do not deserve to be accorded any respect from anyone.
In the words of the Great Sorceress, Svetlana Nazarova, "May no one ever love you."
____________________
dooce: getting fired for something you've written on your website
WRONG. And if cyberspace will allow it, I would like to exorcise this demon by writing something that might increase my chances of getting fired. It is my hope to be forgiven, writing down this long-drawn curse, if not actually and entirely understood.
While it's true that every manager has the right to pick the people who will be working under him/her, it becomes an entirely different matter when various factors are considered.
For starters, how much are you paying the people you'll be hiring? Be honest, because it's not a lot, relative to your competitors. The HR Manager from a year ago said such wise words: "Throw peanuts, and you get monkeys." Besides, what will your people be doing anyway? It's not like they will be engineering a sophisticated module of English-learning innovations for foreigners, to be recognized internationally by every prestigious educational organization. Not really. They will be having conversations like, "So how was tennis today?" or "Doesn't that dog smell awful?" or "My finger is up my nose while I'm dancing the hokey pokey. Can you repeat that?" You want people who graduated from Ateneo or La Salle to do this? One can dream, of course, and sometimes, dreams do come true, but face it, the people who do decide to board your ship of wack are either bored and are just waiting for something better to come their way and then eventually bail out, OR they're just as drugged out as you -- and then eventually bail out.
It is such a mystery why you cannot trust the Recruitment Department to give you people who are good enough to do the things you want done -- and who will agree to the salary you will be giving them. You dismiss them for the simplest of things, too. She didn't pronounce this particular word the right way (then tell her to pronounce it the right way -- it's just one word after all, and something she won't be using that often), he didn't display enough "passion for teaching" (you mean he's not as doped up as you?), she isn't cult material enough... Reasons so inane, so childish, so immature, and so impractical for someone who runs a program, it's a wonder why you're still where you are. OK, it's not really strange. You have money, you come from a well-known family, and you use connections to make yourself stick like a barnacle to a sinking ship, while everyone else suffers. And if you tell me one has no right to be judged by someone else, I will tell you to look around you -- REALLY look around you -- and you try judging yourself.
I cannot forget the one evil thing I had to go through because of you. One applicant -- very promising in terms of skill -- who passed two interviews already, and whom you agreed to schedule for a final interview, I had to tell him to go home because suddenly, SUDDENLY, after making him come back for three consecutive days, you don't want to talk to him anymore. That was very unprofessional, unethical, impolite, and downright mean of you. And who had to take the fall for it? Who had to face the applicant and apologize for your meanness? Of course it had to be someone else. Do I make you guess who drew the booby prize?
I got over it eventually, although it left a mighty fine scar in my heart. I told myself I will go through every crap this company throws my way for one year, and then I'd leave. But the shit finally hit the fan the other day. I once again endorsed someone who would do really well in your program. Again, just like most others, he passed the interview with Recruitment, and he passed the interview with your Supervisor. But when your turn came, your Supervisor told me you'd rather not take him BECAUSE HE'S GAY. She told me that you said Koreans get confused and it affects their learning.
I think several threads in my brain snapped. THAT'S IT. I have never experienced outright homophobia before, and I never thought it would be this... hurtful. You are one evil person, and even if you do not realize it, you do not deserve to be accorded any respect from anyone.
In the words of the Great Sorceress, Svetlana Nazarova, "May no one ever love you."
____________________
dooce: getting fired for something you've written on your website