The closest thing that something like this happened before was during communication research and public relations defense frenzy. I have to admit that I miss staying awake for 80% of an entire week and my best friend has become my Mac, Almeida, while I was developing chart after chart, writing and rewriting two papers for defense and another truckload of requirements much-needed for the coveted diploma.
I remember drinking 2 liters of coffee in a night (no exaggeration since I bought 2 pet bottles of 1L water and filled it with 5 packets of instant coffee each! Ask Gus, if you’re still unsure). I read an entire textbook from cover to cover—my first and only—that night. My house then became the “the Weekly Sillimanian” office and I only went home to shower, change clothes, and the works.
After graduation, the frenzied lifestyle mellowed and the only thing that kept me awake at night was partying and booze. No more rush of deadlines, no writing, no projects, no poetry readings, no performances, no rehearsals, no call times. Zilch. Life became waking up late, eating whenever hungry, and partying like there’s no tomorrow when the gang’s around.
It got boring sooner than I expected and I was craving for a mental and physical activity that didn’t include watching TV, household chores, watching TV again, running errands, sleeping, reminiscing high school kapalpakan and throwing dried, abused, and harassed jokes that my barkada repeats everytime whenever we’re together.
And here I am at midnight, two months after, typing this post in a break from work, which is not in a call center. I am practically in the office since Saturday, waiving the weekend gimiks for the call of responsibility. Others call it slavery. I call it perfection! If only office hours turn nocturnal.
I used to point out that I have four requirement s for the perfect job: (1) non-confinement to a workspace/cubicle, (2) flexible time sched, (3) non-existence of an office uniform, and (4) opportunity to travel. The first phase of my actual job hunting was aimed to a job post for Greenpeace. My four requirements blend easily with the Greenpeace lifestyle/ job flow. But because of withholding forces, otherwise known as mom, plus plus other factors, such as fate, health and surgery, I wasn’t even able to submit an application.
Needless to say, I jumped to the plane bound for Manila stripped of job targets and left with only one goal—prison break.
My first days were filled of plans of submitting resumes and job applications only to end up drinking at Guilly’s in Glorrietta 5 with Lyde and the rest of his crew from Convergys at the height of noon. Di bale na walang trabaho, nasa gitna naman tayo ng Intercon at Ascott. Lyde’s friends were telling me that if worse comes to worst and I’m still drinking my ass off by the time the mother-imposed-month-long-grace-period-of-finding-a-job is up, I can always work upstairs (the Glorrietta 5 branch of Convergys) and say “Thank you for calling AT&T, how may I help you,” and “Sorry, my system was just uploading,” for a living. I cringed at the thought and gathered all my willpower to get up and start the hunt. My failed and only-time of attempting to pass a resume was downright comedic, storm and flood in Makati notwithstanding.
So it was the high heavens who whisked me to the events and promotions company of a Silliman alumnus, a week after the escape from the previously- enforced reclusion perpetua. I was ecstatic to have found a job of my first choice, events organizing and I was all the more eager to get started.
Boy! What paperwork and research. Pre-prod requires humungous amount of time to get all the data gathered to ensure a “purple cow” event while post-prod requires near-divine patience to compile all those post-event survey forms and tabulate redemption sales and all those hullabaloos.
The event is the crowning glory. You have to do the needed research and paperwork to make sure the crown is yours. One wrong move in post-event and/or sales reports and you get dethroned.
So here’s to deciding to work for events to escape all those paperwork crap. It’s been almost two months since I started and to borrow Jordan’s words, “I’m still coping.”
It’s been quite a while since I started taking the stairs instead of the elevator, in power stilettos! Wait, don’t be too impressed; the office is only at the 3rd floor. But still.
I have to admit that I do not have the patience nor the dedication to enroll in the gym. Well, I can… but give me only up to 3 days, max.
So it’s the vernida stairs then, if I’m not running late. I do hope we’ll be getting along sometime soon.