Monday, September 18, 2006

twelve minutes

twelve minutes is what's needed if you have to boil a kettle of water for hard-boiled eggs. twelve minutes is the short time spent to reach fort bonifacio from ortigas center after rush hour traffic has dispersed. twelve minutes is what separates the arms of my watch from the makati towing brigade's clocks...

for the second time in a little more than a month, my car got towed.

i parked at a "5pm to 7pm tow-away zone" at 7:00pm in salcedo village. upon returning to my spot 33 minutes later, my car had already transformed from a silver corona to a grey civic. i probably wouldn't have minded if an aston martin or a jaguar was waiting in lieu of my thirteen year old sedan. who knows. my keys would have fit in perfectly.

6:48pm was the time written on my violation ticket. and i argued (halfheartedly) that i had parked at 7:00. at the back of my mind i already knew that any attempts of talking my thousand bucks out of their cash box was futile. after handing over two newly-withdrawn, crunchy yellow bills to those sons-of-bitches, they followed through with an instruction that i had to redeem my license from the makati city hall the following day (plus an additional P500 fine!). by some stroke of luck (for the corrupted scum of the earth), i was in a pretty numb mood, and not in my usual debate-me-to-death pose. in fact, i wasn't feeling an ounce of grumpiness. no. on the other hand, i was even in a jolly good mood. and i managed my way out of that deliberate inconvenience with a hundred fifty peso corruption tip and a couple of jokes! who the hell pays his oppressors a huge amount of cash and throws in a couple of jokes for free?!

well, i did. tonight. and while those fools chuckle the night away, my pocket frowns on its shameful loss. all because of those twelve (crucial) minutes.

Friday, September 08, 2006

multiple careerpaths

recently passing my eighth month mark in the company, i realized that i have had an average of 1.25 job designations per month, or a total of 10 responsibilities since i entered.

marketing officer, graphic apparel line (us operations)
business unit head, graphic apparel line (us operations)
logistics officer, shrimp farming operations
public relations officer
recruiter, welding professionals export
executive assistant to the chairman
marketing and distribution officer, milkfish business unit (north america)
logistics officer, aquaculture operations (domestic operations)
sales and marketing, broadband technology unit (us operations)
logistics head, csr projects and political campaign in manila

how much more dynamic can a company be? this is taking the concept of job rotation to the extreme!

Thursday, September 07, 2006

guide my way up

penthouse views

in spite of my belief that manila should be burnt to the ground and then rebuilt to glory, i can't deny the small wonder i silently keep for the concrete jungle we all call home.

...ortigas center at a distance...


...manila american cemetery with laguna de bay in the background...


...makati skyline...


...humongous broccoli...


i took the photos from my office room... hard to believe i still manage to complain about work huh? :)

Wednesday, September 06, 2006

a sense of mediocrity

i squirm. i fidget. i breathe and scratch my butt. i am attacked by that occasional realization that i am mediocre...

i sometimes wonder if it would be better to just suck at one thing, than simply be average. after all, if you are the worst, then you are effectively the best (at sucking at it). which translates to a superlative, and not just a vague representation of the lumpy portion of a normal bell curve.

i am raw. sour, when it should be sweet. sweet, when it should be bitter. i am tap. an unnoticed existence. neither chilly nor scalding, a faint presence registered solely by a drop of mercury.

i am at an age where i am young to the old, and old to the young. i have no place. no associations. no allegiances. i hit tennis balls with a flute. and manage to paint with a camera. my pen can speak portuguese to a dog who responds back in french. he is unmistakably sophisticated, however such a dog can never wear a tux.

i can market a truck. and i can deliver products using a television. all this while cooking dinner in a kitchen, on-board a cruise ship.

mediocrity is a termite-infested arrow which points imprecisely to the rain forest, where travelers are left to trample on roots and march on downtrodden paths. in it, the notes of incomplete symphonies flutter over enormous trees whose leaves are made of children's words. when the rains fall through the canopies overhead, these words spiral down to the soaked ground of water color and oil. if one manages to escape, then he'd have a whole field of passion to till.

for the meantime, i can bask in the glow of my trophy; my prize for being the best in being mediocre at so many things.