@alexkurei @regie8 I miss this. (Taken with Instagram at Bo’s Coffee, SM Megamall)
Lengthy Disclaimer: Before I go on the edge of termination yet again, I have to say that this post, I believe, is not aimed at damaging the reputation of my beloved company. God knows I try hard, and fuck do I try hard. This just aims to express my thoughts since I cannot use any tool there to let this be known to my colleagues. Ok, this is gon’ be a big fuck up. Yet again. This is not for the sensitive and weak of the heart. Nor for that one person who made a big fuss about my tweets last October 2011. Maybe my voice can be heard again through Facebook.
TKS Misstamp Sanctioning is a cosmic joke. You work with deducted pay with no absences nor lates and complete with this very exciting thing they call “Stand Up,” same amount with those minimum wagers you smile at, offering you to try their free taste when you walk down grocery aisles, kill yourself using the AVAYA while answering questions such “I’m fine, how are you?” Yet, you get sanctioned that within 5 times of doing so inconspicuously and unintentionally, you’ll find yourself being emotionally abused by these psychologists in the HR. Then after a week of using you for the “service level,” when everybody knows what’s gonna happen anyway, the job that’s been the most important thing in your life for nearly about 3 years will be taken away from you.
Seriously? No one ever in our level of intellect, or perhaps in MY intellect if the “gods” are gonna be a condescending prick about that, can understand why in the holy world would there be such a cosmic joke that will ruin your life and take everything away from you, when in fact, a great genius invented the use of biometrics, PDA logins and Citrix logins and all that good holy useless stuff. Oh billing purposes.. LOL
“Willful avoidance or participation in any action that negatively impacts performance.” Blah blah blah.. How do they define “willful avoidance?” According to the dictionary, it means voluntary decision making. Maybe Webster already revised their website. Did I ever thought of not stamping correctly because I did not want to break these holy rules in the name of Jesus Christ? I think so. Because the perfect system and my stamps proved that I willfully participated something that brings misery to the company: TKS Misstamp.
I’m tired of working for stamping correctly. I used to do my job with eyes closed. But part of the job is now stamping correctly. My title should be ‘CSR and Correct Stamper.’ Isn’t it possible to just go to work and do your job with love and happiness without having to think about if you have stamped correctly? It seems that this is the only thing you’re there for. I envy the management because they just stamp in and out. Agents, on the other hand, stamps to a gorazillion and a handful different stamps. After taking about 8 calls or 13 emails before you take your break, assisting customers with ALH, Risk Models, Representments, KYC Limitations, Missing Funds, headache, nosebleed, heartache, nausea from trying to translate things in English, you are still expected to stamp correctly. Because you have to do your job. You are always expected to do things right. You are expected to be a God. How’s that for the people who stamps in and out only?
I am a human. Not a robot. Okay? You feeling me on that? I’m not perfect. God I wish I was, but fuck I was created to err. Who the hell has not yet misstamped? I’ll give that robot a thousand bucks. Had this policy been there since the 1980’s, I bet you are not working here anymore. One mistake can make you lose your bonus. Add that up to 5 then you lose your job? What the hell? Emy Bayan was right. Instead of having these super possible policies that drives loyal and great employees such as Misshelle Cervantes we can make money from, why don’t we all create something that would make people stay. They don’t like having tenured people, don’t they?
Oh TKS Misstamp… Maybe God can understand. I’m sorry I’m not God.
PS: This pay period’s payout is on Apr 15. My birthday is on Apr 24. I’m on a 5k budget with my Camiguin trip this Holy Week, 4 days 3 nights on an expensive paradise. I got bills to pay. I have an emergency loan deductions, ‘cause of the accident last December, the driver hasn’t paid me yet and I also have a funny tax computation similar to six-digit wager. Love me or terminate me, we all follow a ridiculous policy.
If you could only see that I was not put here for you to judge me and dispute my in most truth. And after all these years of enmity, envy and tears, it’s a shame you don’t know me at all.
I was wondering would you cry for me? If I was drowning, suffocating? If I told you that I couldn’t breathe?
Those ageless buried recollections, we transform them and select them. You have yours, I have mine that’s fine. Why are we too torn to heal? Our stitches never dissapear. I have mine, you have yours, I’m sure.
I was wondering would you reach for me if you saw that I was languishing?
I was wondering would you cry for me? If I was drowning, suffocating? If I told you that I couldn’t breathe?
Donna Summer-ish (Taken with Pose)
Happy Birthday, bitch! I love you like I’m mad at it! @EnnaRelevo (Taken with Instagram at REPUBLIQ CLUB)
The world has lost another legend. Thank you for the romantic moments your music has created. We will always love you.. RIP Whitney.. You are one of the million reasons why I’m gay.. :( (Taken with instagram)
Blergh. I just had one of the worst conversations ever with one of my officemates. I can be the Miss Congeniality and all that fake shit, but I’m never the friendliest everyone wants to hang around with in the office — and I like that. I do join in on office drinks, dinner shit and whatnot some times, but officemates to me aren’t supposed to be your friends. They’re there to help you out when it comes to business, but besides that, I like having a clear dichotomy of my “professional” life and my artistic life.
Photo Credit: http://all4women.co.za/at-work/handle-office-bitch.html
Apparently, earlier today, on one of my worst days, one of the first people who I had cool conversations with took my joke very badly, and probably took it as some sort of office offense. There’s no official reprimand for workplace mean-ness, but then again, you have to command it.
In the office though, it’s a whole different jungle: You have a boss, and your bosses have a boss. While some people work under me, I still defer to a higher authority. And that’s part of the reason why I can’t befriend work people: in as much as it is easy to let your guard down on them, they’re still your colleagues, and demand more respect than your average girl friend.
Lesson learned? Watch what you say. Even to the point of faking it. Being too friendly doesn’t mean everybody would like to have you as a friend. And also, being angry doesn’t really solve anything — it’s just a huge waste of energy.
Anybody else go through things like this?
Apologies
Eventually, people will get tired of your apologies, even if they are stated with utmost sincerity. No one can really bear so much burden after bringing high hopes and expectations, down in just a blink of an eye. Your apologies will gradually be something that is stated but not meant. Something said just to make things right. Eventually, I’m sorry won’t be good enough.
(Source: thediaryofayoungman, via thediaryofayoungman)
We scream and shout and try to make it last. Though it didn’t work out, I don’t love you any less. My lover or my friend? I won’t ever tell. Our secret’s safe, an unspoken citadel. And in these broken times, well it’s so easy to forget. So I sing to remind you that upon my shoulder you can rest. ‘Cause I’ll always give you my best.
A sidewalk’s path leads me to you. Though we don’t look back, we hold on to the truth. And in these broken times, I promise I will not forget. Though you’re not mine, upon your shoulder I can rest. ‘Cause you always give me your best.
And though it’s been so long, I can’t ever seem to forget. All it takes is a song and I could swear I hear your steps. Down the hall, echoes a past that leaves an ache, it has never left. ‘Cause I gave you my best.
It’s like a promise kept. It’s like you never left.
We screamed and shouted and tried to make it last..
He did it again.
Using my hands, I showed him where it hurts. He took his syringe and raped my back with it. I am a nurse. But I can’t look at what he was doing. I felt again the extreme pain. But I’m just numb. Then he checked something in my head. He picked the sore area where it had a fracture. Then he extracted blood from my right cubital fossa. Fasting Blood Sugar. Serum Creatinine. Complete blood count. He said that this time now that I possibly have dengue fever. Again.
Earlier last year, it was the same. I can’t remember how many times I went to different hospitals. I’m no longer a nurse, am I? He said I can’t wear high heels yet. He said I can’t dance yet. He said I can’t travel yet. No alcohol. No intimate contact down there for a while. No extreme activities. Take a rest. Blah blah blah. I’m just tired. I was not listening. What the fuck, are you God? Telling me what I can’t do sure is like stoning me to death. Give me a break or kill me now. Santa’s been a bitch. That motherfucking stupid fat bastard. Just because I’m already 22 doesn’t mean that you won’t give me my fucking gift. I asked him for a good health. He failed me.
I’m not dying. My health is not failing. I can’t die. No. Not now. I’m strong. I gotta get through this. Just a dose of magic pills and I’m alright. I have to get back to normal. People still need me. I inspire them. I make them happy. I continue to take part in the healing process. This is my commitment. No matter what.
“Everyday is a fashion show and the world is your runway.” This is one of the one million quotes I live by everyday.
But last Monday, it was not for Karuhatan Road. The small, busy portion of it. I got hit by this Rotopack truck. It’s Thursday. 1:24 AM here. I must’ve forgotten what happened. But all I know is I’m extremely haunted by fear of dying. I do not want to sleep without someone watching over me.
So I have never been excited to go to work all my life. My daily fashion show. Until last Monday morning. I even tweeted this: “#NP LMFAO “Everyday I see my dream.” —-Off to work! Never been this excited. Again. My team needs my beauty. For all it is.” I was doing the usual. Smoking while in the tricycle. Making sure LMFAO’s Best Night is playing and Far East Movement’s Don’t Look Now comes after. Checking on fuckable men around. Looking at the way people dress and laughing in my mind about the way I stare at them. Then I found myself walking in the longest part of the runway on the way to office: Karuhatan Market. I’m the kind of person who wants things quick. I do not like being stopped when I’m doing something, especially when I walk. I love the rush and the breathing is crazy. It’s my workout. I always avoid people by not walking on the sidewalks.
So Lady Gaga’s Hair was playing. Max volume. The poprock beat was surrounding me. I stomped as I usually do. Singing in my head. “That I’ll die living just as free as my hair.” Until I felt a strong blow of wind. I saw a big vehicle pass quickly beside me. But along that passing vehicle was my beautiful, slender body. With my favorite vintage big bag.
I do not remember how many times my head hit the ground. And how many meters I was carried by on my hips. All I know was I was in extreme pain. My vision was blurry. And people were surrounding me. Good thing my little brother is around so my mom and dad knew about it. I saw traffic. It was then I realized I caused a scene. Yet again. I saw my dad carrying my busted bag with my 7 inch heels sticking out. It’s for tomorrow’s Miss GayPal. Oh and thank heavens I decided not to bring my laptop. Or else I died in depression.
And so I was lying in a stretcher. Realized I need to call my TL to let them know what happened. I was upset because it was the new team’s Christmas Party of which I won’t be able to attend. Then I felt the need to check in to 4sq and FB and tweet what happened. Celebrity much.
So there I was fighting for consciousness. It was 2 weeks ago when I fainted after dancing for the whole company’s Christmas Party. I was rushed to San Juan de Dios. The doctors an nurses in the ER are all fucking hot. I suddenly remembered the feeling of being placed in the edge of dying. Few months ago, I rode a bus where one of their air conditioning units busted and fired while people were on board. It was scary. And bloody. This time, I did not bleed and just had minor abrasions on my back which is scarier.
I was rushed to Valenzuela General Hospital with my dad. A public hospital. I must say it’s not a good experience. That fucking hospital is a mediocre. Everyone in the emergency room is laxed but it was filled by all kinds of patients. Waiting to be attended to. And as one of the very few who has a heart in medicine, my heart was crushed to find out that the approach there is of a very low class. We were not being interviewed nor my wounds were not being disinfected and all these dreaded patients were set aside in lines. Like a first come first serve thing. I do not even understand. I can see blood all over. I have never been rushed to a public hospital nor have been in an accident so I do not know but as an experienced nursing student who was put in these types of situations during OJT’s, I realized that the health care in the Philippines is in a bad state.
I realized that no matter how many health care providers we have here in the Philippines, our health care system will never be fucking awesome if the government is not serious about it. I then thought about the people in other public hospitals and the people in rural areas. I used to have a serious desire to serve the humanity back in college and given a chance to make it big as a nurse, I would continue to become a doctor specializing in Internal Medicine and spend all my life helping the poor. And I forgot about that when I started building a life in the call center industry. Repression.
After 30 minutes and yellow stuff discharged on my nose, I decided to leave ValGen. My dad drove me to Fatima University Medical Center, my alma mater. I must say that I was never lucky on health, but I’m always blessed with fuckable doctors. One of my doctors Dr. Sudip Shakya is fucking hot! Checkout his FB http://www.facebook.com/luzzaaa07
I personally requested to be admitted in a private room but since it’s Christmas and my heart is awesome enough to forgive the company of that truck driver, I agreed to be admitted in a fucking public male ward.
Today is my 4th day and the original patients who were admitted before me were all discharged and I’m left with new roommates. I do not usually talk to people especially if I’m not feeling good so boo for me for not making friends here. I was hostile towards everybody especially to the student nurses. But I’m still good because I’m giving them lectures on how to do good at work and how to stand out among everyone when y’all are doing the same stuff. After my ‘Twitter Issue’ two months ago, my goal became to be a role model for everything and to serve as an inspiration.
I was diagnosed with Temporal bone fracture. It’s one of the bones that makeup the skull. I’m nauseous and my hips are bad. Good thing I will not undergo surgery anymore because my signs are getting better. I’m upset because I think I will not make it to Mr and Ms PayPal 2011 where I am a contestant in the Gay category. But I can’t be thankful enough that I’m not severely injured and the most important thing is I regained my love for medicine back. When I was placed in a very poor health condition. And this is now one of the everyday fashion shows I must take part in.
For any Filipino family, especially among the poor, an illness striking any of its members is viewed as a catastrophe. 6 of 10 Filipinos who succumb to sickness die without ever seeing a doctor, according to the University of the Philippines’ National Health Institute.
Health care is one of the most important items that should be on the agenda of whoever gets elected president last election, according to a group of former senior government officials who have drawn up a list of urgent concerns for the next administration, which is unfortunately the PNoy administration, to address in its first year.
Unlike in the United States, where health care occupied center stage in the past presidential election and continues to be a major program of the Obama administration, very little attention is focused on the current debates on this major problem that impacts heavily on improving education and easing poverty in this country.
Ailing parents can’t support their families. Sickly and malnourished children can’t attend schools, setting back their education, the main vehicle for social mobility especially among the poor who have no access to wealth or capital.
Not many in this nation of 90 million are that fortunate, especially among the more than 27 million who survive on a dollar a day, the poverty threshold defined by the World Bank.
Workers pay P100 to P750 a month for PhilHealth, but 50 percent of the monthly premium is covered by their employers. Critics say that PhilHealth is one of the better-run state corporations, accumulating assets of up to P70 billion.
But they say that little of PhilHealth’s assets are being used to finance the improvement of provincial hospitals so that they can be accredited into the system and thereby ease the shortage of medical services in the rural areas.
Little tertiary health care services provided for major ailments by such hospitals as Makati Medical Center and Medical City is available in the provinces.
We need to improve our activities as far as accrediting hospitals and clinics so that patients with PhilHealth cards can access them and they can be reimbursed for the services they provide so that they can have money that they can pour into other health services.
While every Filipino is entitled to health care in the Constitution, it is regarded more as a privilege, as poverty incidence widens.
