If there is anything you can count on me, that’ll be delayed reaction. For some strange reason my brain works that way. It’s a bit on the slow side. Perhaps it’s the innumerable times I’ve been told mean things that my brain has some sort of forcefield that keeps me from truly understanding and feeling what’s being wrongfully done or said to me.
Take for instance Kuya Bogie and Ate Sheena at work (both aliases, of course). Seven days ago, Kuya Bogie came up to me twenty minutes before my shift ended and asked me if he can talk to me. The moment I looked at his face I knew already that that “talk” will involve a.) some fuck up I had no idea was wrong, b.) an incident that may have happened long ago but they only decided to punish you for, and c.) signing a piece of paper they’ve already prepared even though they haven’t heard your side yet. “Here we go again” was the first thing that came in my mind as soon as we started walking to the office. As he closed the door I reminded myself that with these people, there is no other option but acknowledge it and sign the damn piece of paper if there is one. No amount of reason will dissuade them of their perspective anyway. And that’s how it goes when you work for the Von Trapp family.
Kuya Bogie and Ate Sheena started nice and polite asking why I felt I needed to do what I did eight days prior me standing in that office. As my mouth started verbalizing that it was not about “feelings” but about the fact that I am compelled by a direct instruction from a supervisor, my eyes quickly looked down on a piece of paper they had placed on the table between them. The moment I saw that paper, I wanted to tell them both not to bother with the “due process”, just hand me the piece of paper and I’ll sign it. What is the point anyway of the discussion, besides I have work to get back to anyway. But duty and the seriously twisted reality of being professional despite being screwed made me answer their inquiries, nod at the right instances, apologize at the appropriate time, smile somewhat after the discussion, read over the document, affix my signature and hand it back to them. As I walked out and resumed my duties, I felt such an unbearable heaviness and weariness that I clocked out as soon as the bundy showed 12.
Two days after that incident, I realized how they badly screwed me and how badly working for this family has screwed me that I felt pissed.
The day after being written up, Kuya Bogie calls asks me to go with him to the office. I wanted to jokingly ask if he’s got me written up again because I’ll just sign it but I refrained so knowing he’s quite sensitive. He asks me to go out with him from the operations area and sit at a table. He opens up the discussion by telling me I’m getting my annual review that moment. Annual review?!? I had to stop myself from laughing like a lunatic. I started working there October 24, 2008 and has it not dawned to him that he is two and a half months late and it’s only appropriate that he apologize for that? Well, let’s get it on then. So he goes on and on and on and on about my review asking some questions here and there but not really listening to my reply as he would often look to see if the operations on the other side is running smoothly. Then he tells me, “If I or (insert store owner’s name here) gives you an instruction, I would rather you don’t ask but just do it”. Of course I wanted to say, “Excuse me, but don’t you think I have the right to question your instruction if it is vague or based on our day to day operation I think is not do-able?” but then if I say that... well... that would totally contradict what he just told me. I kinda knew deep inside that he’s screwing me again, but being all screwed up anyway I resigned myself to the fact that since there are only nine months left in my contract I’ll just go with the flow and avoid stirring up any rife between us.
Finally on my rest day, the emotions I should’ve felt on those two days hit me hard that I had started writing my resignation letter. If the promise I gave my two parents didn't resurface in my brain, I would probably be on a one way flight by now to the Philippines. Maybe it's a good thing, not being able to say immediately what you want or should say. If I were able to, I'd long been fired from work or lynched by this blood thirsty family.
Anyway, I'm back to my slow pace and giggles. My apologies if I bitch fit today. Well, it’s Monday after all. And I’m a bit slow in the head at times.
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