**Did you know that I went to the same memorial chapel twice in just three months? See, that's two deaths three months apart.
I was playing a video game at around 12:30 in the afternoon when Loida, our domestic friend from the province, barged in and delivered some piping bad news. "Patay na si Tito Boy!" Tito Boy was one of the more infamous characters in the neighborhood. He was, well, one of the least favorable role models around on account of he smoked a lot, he drank a lot, and his complexion was tainted by all that rum. Incidentally, he smelled like he was distilled. He never left home without a cigarette in one hand and then the other nineteen in the pack in his pocket. He was almost always walking in zigzags, and he was the universal poster boy for eau de Tanduay Rum. He was the perfect candidate for the so-called "sakit sa bopis," i.e. "sakit sa baga, sakit sa atay," but enough of the eulogy.
Just two days ago, he was sentenced to a maximum of thirty days under complete life support. See, he had an issue with his lungs, and the cancer has already corrupted just about half of it. What he had left was but half of what he was born with, and sources say, it wasn't even the size of his fists. Of his curled fists. Anyway, this wasn't something that's totally unexpected, I mean, he DID smoke too much. It was at least a pack of the cancer sticks in a day, and that was during the better part of his life. His smoking habit, at the height of his nicotine dependency, was the stuff legends are made of. It was at least three packs a day, and then there came a time when he'd wake up during the early hours of the morning just to get a cup of coffee and then two sticks. He was basically another fatality waiting to happen, and it happened around 12 in the afternoon. This afternoon.
It was when Loida added that "kamamatay lang niya kaninang mga twelve," that I had this sudden urge to remain calm.
Remain calm with a cigarette, that is.
Somebody died of smoking-induced cancer just thirty minutes ago, and I was with a cigarette in between my lips. Of course you'd understand how I received the news with much apprehension, but I was ironically seeking comfort in something that killed someone just thirty minutes ago. It's not something that I did on purpose. I never did like the guy, but I'm not spiting or mocking his memory with a cigarette between my lips. I'm doing that out of habit. See, I smoke with an unbridled lack of discipline. And I am aware of the detriments that my chosen vice is capable of inducing, but I don't hate the surgeon general not one bit for he has been very consistent with his warnings.
Tobacco companies try to be discreet with their health warnings, hopefully attempting to wash their hands clean of this bad habit that's making them millions of dollars in profit. So what they do is they print out surgeon general warnings on each pack of cigarette, effectuating a propaganda that defeats the point of smoking in the first place. I'm not buying cigarettes to be reminded of how unhealthy they are in the first place.
I know that cigarette smoking is dangerous to your health, smoking is harmful to children and pregnant women, and smoking kills, but do I care? It's probably out of my mind as soon as that first stick fresh out of the pack hits my lips, and is compeletely forgotten after the second one. And then there's another warning on my second pack, but these words of advice goes out in smokes in this viciously nonterminating cycle.
But am I even threatened, let alone intimidated by such horror stories, however factual? What is it with us smokers; we are well aware of the different malignancies introduced by this habit, and yet we still find ourselves taking a drag on that Marlboro Lights.
Arsenic makes for a healthy lunch, and smoking is good for the lungs. A reliable source once told me that there are about four hundred different chemicals slash poisons in a single cigarette stick. Some of these chemicals include ammonia (used as a household cleaning agent), acetone (nail polish remover), naphthalene (mothballs), methanol (rocket fuel), phenol (disinfectant), hydrogen cyanide, toluene (industrial solvent), and of course, pesticides. Of course I was slightly taken aback by the realization that I was smoking mothballs all along, but then it doesn't stop there. The list goes on to include those used in embalming fluids like arsenic and formaldehyde.
Call me paranoid, but something tells me to kick the habit altogether. But the thing is, I can never seem to get off of this smoking thing, or I'm almost always with a cigarette in between my lips. I reckon that I can always quit later, and when "later" happens to be a little too late, then I might as well go to hell with the poison of my choice.
I have always tried to lessen the sticks I've been consuming, or rather puffing on, hoping that I will be able to gradually kick the habit in the long run, but hell no. The more I promise to refrain from smoking, the more difficult it becomes.
There was a time when I tried to, excuse my French, "quit" the habit altogether. The plan was to gradually decrease the number of cigarettes I've been smoking in a day until it concludes in smoking zero cigarettes at all. It all went well in the beginning. I mean, I had no problem going from ten sticks a day, to eight sticks in three days. And then six sticks a few days after that. It was going so well that in just two weeks, I was very happy with my five stick a day quota. But then, somebody invited me to get shitfaced over a couple of beers, and then I was back to doing twelve sticks in no time at all.
I know what the possible advantages are if I was to completely refrain from embracing the habit altogether, but it seems that quitting's a welcome change that can always take place after the last stick. A person sentenced to death always has his last wish, but to us smokers, it's the last stick. Ironically enough, the last stick is a symbolism for change that'll never happen anyway, for there's bound to be another one in three hours. And then three hours after that, or maybe after a full meal, or while taking a dump, whichever comes first.
I've grown so used to smoking at any given time that swearing on the last stick becomes swearing on the last pack, until the strength of resolve has conceded into an addiction that kills. In the long run, the promise to refrain from smoking becomes a promise to refrain from smoking "too much."
Honestly, all this talk about smoking is making me much too tense. Has anyone seen my lighter?
Friday, March 18, 2005
Monday, March 07, 2005
Here's a List of My Posted Articles According to Categories
**This used to be in my sidebar
My Better Work
Here's a quick list of some of my more inspired posts. Not that the rest of them posts are any less inspired, no sir, its just that these happened to gag the most comments. So there.
My Gay Posts
What's a gay guy's blog without gay write ups? No tips for the perfect blowjob, though. Like I said, I'm mostly harmless.
My Horror Movie Reviews
These are more of a personal project than silly fillers since I love horror movies as much as I love to write. It's a perfect marriage on the ideal blog.
My Posts on Blogging
I have a Page Rank of 3, but I don't get it. I managed to learn me a whole heaven about blogging, and here's pretty much everything.
Call Centers
I used to be a telemarketer. And I was most thoroughly inspired by the work and the call center agents I'm with. Here's to us. BTW, I'm now doing technical support as some sort of penance.
Life in the Third World
There are some things you just can't love in this effing third world country I'm in. Here's some of them. Everything else, well, they're just so positively charming.
Lists and Soups
It's a delectable list of random nothingness served to pleasure your varying appetites.Includes my hot Hate List, Blog Rules, and my impromptu Soups. Enjoy!
Bullshitting
You know how it's like when you have this sudden burst of insight, and you have no one to tell it to because its just too stupid for speech? Yeah, this is why I write in the first place.
Offline
I'm the same both online and offline, but I'm mostly more inappropriate in front of a computer. Here's how I am when I'm borderline well-behaved.
Smoking
Sometimes, when I'm about to run out of things tos write about, I turn to what I'm holding in my right hand for inspiration. I'm referring to a cigarette.
Ben Tumbling
I sometimes channel the spirit of this college girl with a knack for social climbing and insults. I call him Ben. Verily, the poor man's valley girl in all the proper respects.
My Better WorkHere's a quick list of some of my more inspired posts. Not that the rest of them posts are any less inspired, no sir, its just that these happened to gag the most comments. So there.
My Gay PostsWhat's a gay guy's blog without gay write ups? No tips for the perfect blowjob, though. Like I said, I'm mostly harmless.
My Horror Movie ReviewsThese are more of a personal project than silly fillers since I love horror movies as much as I love to write. It's a perfect marriage on the ideal blog.
My Posts on BloggingI have a Page Rank of 3, but I don't get it. I managed to learn me a whole heaven about blogging, and here's pretty much everything.
Call CentersI used to be a telemarketer. And I was most thoroughly inspired by the work and the call center agents I'm with. Here's to us. BTW, I'm now doing technical support as some sort of penance.
Life in the Third WorldThere are some things you just can't love in this effing third world country I'm in. Here's some of them. Everything else, well, they're just so positively charming.
Lists and SoupsIt's a delectable list of random nothingness served to pleasure your varying appetites.Includes my hot Hate List, Blog Rules, and my impromptu Soups. Enjoy!
BullshittingYou know how it's like when you have this sudden burst of insight, and you have no one to tell it to because its just too stupid for speech? Yeah, this is why I write in the first place.
OfflineI'm the same both online and offline, but I'm mostly more inappropriate in front of a computer. Here's how I am when I'm borderline well-behaved.
SmokingSometimes, when I'm about to run out of things tos write about, I turn to what I'm holding in my right hand for inspiration. I'm referring to a cigarette.
Ben TumblingI sometimes channel the spirit of this college girl with a knack for social climbing and insults. I call him Ben. Verily, the poor man's valley girl in all the proper respects.
Sunday, March 06, 2005
Beautiful Blissful Bumming
**Or Living the Brown Trash Life
If you thought I was exercising the bad habit of procrastination with religious fervor, you're almost there. See, I have been very diligent with the following thoughts and addictions. I was too preoccupied with nonsense, it's hardly even good for me. But it kept me dangerously entertained.
1.Oh sweet merciful Jesus, I don't know why I'm so eager in having another one. Another tattoo, I mean. Is it the pain that comes along with this beautiful piece of skin art? Needles breaking into your skin at the rate of 5 per second is a lovely kind of pain, the likes of which I would never have imagined had I not the nerve to succumb to my desire to impress. Which leads me to why I had one in the first place. Basically everybody asks the same question, why did you have it in the first place. That of course follows the annoying question if it's real to begin with. Well, my common rebuttal to the same inquiries basically begin with "gusto ko lang," and ends with a period. I mean, what is there to explain?
For some reason, it has always been something that I wanted. My first tattoo was a chinese character, stands for the word "Passion." And I had it on the understanding that if I couldn't have passion in my body, then I might as well have it on my skin. Either way, I might as well start believing that I am passionate after the beautiful ink starts becoming permanent.
2.One of the reasons why I wasn't able to write as much as I used to was that I have my hands full. Full on my PS2 analog controller, that is. See, I have discovered the most wonderful turn-based strategy RPG ever, and it's what eating me as of the late. The late nights, that is, and all I'm thinking of these past few weeks are character stats and transmigrations, ranks, level ups, and legendary swords. It might be greek to some of you all, but to those of us well versed in the language of role playing games, it might as well be one of the most interesting adventures in a dvd. In case you're wondering, this particular addiction's called Disgaea, published by Nippon, and I'm looking forward to burning another 125 hours or so.
Here's something interesting: Did you know that addiction to video games is a factual ground for divorce in the states? That's something I gathered from a friend who works in Vegas, and though there were no statistics present upon disclosure, who gives head anyway? Bottomline is, video games are an addiction that are factual grounds for divorce. And it happens.
3.And I've started returning to my happy hell in San Nicolas, Pasig, the most endearing SnB pool hall. I have been so busy with work these past few months, hell maybe even years, that I realized I've been missing out on some very good people that I'm growing up with. But then, they're not the reason why I resigned in the first place. See, if this gave you the impression that I'm too much of a friend to give up my source of income just to hang around, you're dead wrong. You know I'm just too sexy for my hat for that since it's the other way around. Resigning from the ridiculously lucrative job of telemarketing simply gave me more time to catch up with some of the finest people around. Maybe not to any of you, but then, you wouldn't know anyway. You were never around these past four years to know better.
Recently, I'm trying to juggle my sweet time in between video games, pool, and a tattoo obsession. And I'm also trying to update this blog from time to time, and then work on stuff here and there. Like maybe get a new job or something. Don't get me wrong, I mean, I still entertain thoughts of getting fresh in a new working environment, but brown trash like myself tend to confuse my priorities with one another. Do I call in to have a tattoo scheduled, or do I call potential employers and ask about job openings? Do I level up a character, or do I further polish my resume? Basically, they both sound the same to me, but the question regarding which appears to be more entertaining is an entirely different matter altogether. I'm not saying that going out and finding a job isn't a delightful past time, but it's something that needs to be done, a strict reinforcement of the line "acting your age." Hell, it's not even proper to compare the pros and cons of these independent efforts; there is always the general "right" thing to consider. But who gives a fuck?
Thing is, I'm thinking more like a bum and less like a well-meaning individual. Hell, I'm burning the midnight oil in between playing video games and going to the pool hall. What other validation do I need?
If you thought I was exercising the bad habit of procrastination with religious fervor, you're almost there. See, I have been very diligent with the following thoughts and addictions. I was too preoccupied with nonsense, it's hardly even good for me. But it kept me dangerously entertained.
1.Oh sweet merciful Jesus, I don't know why I'm so eager in having another one. Another tattoo, I mean. Is it the pain that comes along with this beautiful piece of skin art? Needles breaking into your skin at the rate of 5 per second is a lovely kind of pain, the likes of which I would never have imagined had I not the nerve to succumb to my desire to impress. Which leads me to why I had one in the first place. Basically everybody asks the same question, why did you have it in the first place. That of course follows the annoying question if it's real to begin with. Well, my common rebuttal to the same inquiries basically begin with "gusto ko lang," and ends with a period. I mean, what is there to explain?
For some reason, it has always been something that I wanted. My first tattoo was a chinese character, stands for the word "Passion." And I had it on the understanding that if I couldn't have passion in my body, then I might as well have it on my skin. Either way, I might as well start believing that I am passionate after the beautiful ink starts becoming permanent.
2.One of the reasons why I wasn't able to write as much as I used to was that I have my hands full. Full on my PS2 analog controller, that is. See, I have discovered the most wonderful turn-based strategy RPG ever, and it's what eating me as of the late. The late nights, that is, and all I'm thinking of these past few weeks are character stats and transmigrations, ranks, level ups, and legendary swords. It might be greek to some of you all, but to those of us well versed in the language of role playing games, it might as well be one of the most interesting adventures in a dvd. In case you're wondering, this particular addiction's called Disgaea, published by Nippon, and I'm looking forward to burning another 125 hours or so.
Here's something interesting: Did you know that addiction to video games is a factual ground for divorce in the states? That's something I gathered from a friend who works in Vegas, and though there were no statistics present upon disclosure, who gives head anyway? Bottomline is, video games are an addiction that are factual grounds for divorce. And it happens.
3.And I've started returning to my happy hell in San Nicolas, Pasig, the most endearing SnB pool hall. I have been so busy with work these past few months, hell maybe even years, that I realized I've been missing out on some very good people that I'm growing up with. But then, they're not the reason why I resigned in the first place. See, if this gave you the impression that I'm too much of a friend to give up my source of income just to hang around, you're dead wrong. You know I'm just too sexy for my hat for that since it's the other way around. Resigning from the ridiculously lucrative job of telemarketing simply gave me more time to catch up with some of the finest people around. Maybe not to any of you, but then, you wouldn't know anyway. You were never around these past four years to know better.
Recently, I'm trying to juggle my sweet time in between video games, pool, and a tattoo obsession. And I'm also trying to update this blog from time to time, and then work on stuff here and there. Like maybe get a new job or something. Don't get me wrong, I mean, I still entertain thoughts of getting fresh in a new working environment, but brown trash like myself tend to confuse my priorities with one another. Do I call in to have a tattoo scheduled, or do I call potential employers and ask about job openings? Do I level up a character, or do I further polish my resume? Basically, they both sound the same to me, but the question regarding which appears to be more entertaining is an entirely different matter altogether. I'm not saying that going out and finding a job isn't a delightful past time, but it's something that needs to be done, a strict reinforcement of the line "acting your age." Hell, it's not even proper to compare the pros and cons of these independent efforts; there is always the general "right" thing to consider. But who gives a fuck?
Thing is, I'm thinking more like a bum and less like a well-meaning individual. Hell, I'm burning the midnight oil in between playing video games and going to the pool hall. What other validation do I need?
Friday, February 25, 2005
Trying Hard to Slang
**I don't know if this is supposed to be funny or just plainly cruel.
One of the many things that kept me busy this month was this week-long training course in American Accent. I took it with the idea that a certificate in my resume would increase the size of my balls to near-implosion, and though I don't really need to enroll to validate my speaking skills, it would be fun to show off. Basically, I was there to get certified and to look nice, but I really had no idea what I would realize in the long run.
There were about eight of us in our training batch, and like they always do, we started the session with a brief introduction of ourselves. I spoke last, but before I was able to deliver my verbal handshake, I was bombarded with enough inconsistencies to leave me speechless for a while.
We haven't started training yet, so the obvious absence of the American accent was forgivable, but the tragedy doesn't begin there. We have a situation regarding their understanding of English, and believe me when I'm trying hard to make a sufficiently condescending understatement.
Underscore "sufficiently condescending..."
It was a five day training course, and I learned everything I needed to understand on Day One. Sure, I was able to pick up useful tips on how I can further improve, but everything else that I've come to understand was just simply disappointing. Don't get me wrong, the training program in itself deserves a tap on the back for it was just marvelous. But my co-trainees were, well, for lack of a better word, they were horribly _______.
I'm not usually this blunt when talking about people (har), but their understanding of the English language was sufficiently far from admirable. To say that they have a loose grip on the English language would be a morbid work of charity. I mean, the following lines from those _____ are simply dumbfounding, and hopefully will help you fill in the blanks. And understand that I was using a spell checker before posting this, so typographical errors are just plainly impossible.
"I'm not happy anymore with the depression things and the mind boggling stuff."
"I like to play basketball because of my camaraderie of my friends... my friends... that's it."
"I just sleep to relax my body, so instead of committing a sin, so I sleep."
"graft & corruptions"
"I understanding"
"As far as I know that you'd like me to tell you..."
Leonardo di Caprio and Kate Winslet's big unsinkable boat sank when it collided with this huge chunk of ice floating in the sea. Apparently, the ironic tragedy of the sinking unsinkable boat was engineered by but an insignificant part of this even bigger chunk of ice. Deliciously enough, this makes for a curious movie reference on account of my ______ co-trainees' initial defect pales in comparison when they actually tried speaking in an American tongue. Recall that this was an American Accent Training to begin with, and the main purpose of the program was to neutralize the Filipino in our English to give way to an American accent. And yes, they were wonderfully consistent with the wrong grammar all throughout. Surprisingly, more of those abovementioned quips were encountered along the way. Just when you thought they couldn't be any worse than that, they never failed to exceed themselves.
Turns out that their erroneous grammar was but soil on top of the mudpie. See, knowing how to speak in English is independent of speaking it with an Accent. And this was an entirely different can of worms as shown by the following scenarios:
"Now, pronounce the word apple with a schwa [ae]"
(a schwa sound [ae] basically is the trick to making it sound american)
[ae]pel (no, it's not [ae]pEl, it should be [ae]pple)
affel (what happened to your P's?)
[ae]ffel (were talking about a fruit here, not a tower in France)
[ae]pples (oh dear)
"So what's your favorite kind of food?"
(we heard answers like Japanese, American, and one German, but this one took time)
I like Filifino... (one f please)
I like Pilipino... (this is an American accent course, say it like an American!)
Filipino... (there you go), I like Filipino pood
"How do you describe the color red to a blind person?"
I will pocus on... (No, it's pronounced as fow-kis)
I will focus on... (again, it's fow-kis)
I will focused on... (something's wrong with your grammar, "I will fow-kis on...")
I will fow-kis on on my fersonal peelings
Stagnant is a word I haven't been using for a while now. And I kid you not when I'm telling you that I'm writing everything as they were spoken.
I asked these people why they attended this training course. Of course, the answer was obvious enough. They wanted to make it in the call center industry on the understanding that "learning" how to speak like an American would be a welcome benefit when they need to apply in any particular center. As a matter of fact, cross out "benefit" and change it to "asset" since they believed that they would have an edge after graduating from this week's worth of training. They were thinking that the certificate from this program would do them a lot of good. Not only would it look good on their resume, but it in a way makes them easy shoe-ins for any vacancy in this particular industry.
Well, that's stupid. See, learning how to speak English in a manner similar to those of Americans is different from being able to speak correct English. There's just no point in trying to speak with an accent when you're backing that up with absurd sentence constructions and infestations of grammatical flaws. Sure, Americans themselves are no different with the grammar, but then, you'll know what they are up front.
The thing is, why do you have to bother learning how to speak like an American when you can't even construct a sentence in fucking English? What damned good would that be? Why would you even bother buying yourself a goodlooking cue stick when you don't even know how to play pool? You can bop yourself silly on the head with that cue stick, but you'll gonna have to find some other ways to use it. Otherwise, it's just a pointless expense to begin with.
The idea that people just want to apply in call centers just proves to show that it indeed is a very established industry. Believe me, I'm talking out of personal experience. I've been there, and I was a happy witness to more than enough money than I deserve, a radical working environment for the chronically nocturnal, spiffs and incentives that'll make you forget about payday, and free coffee. I was even sent to a resort in Fontana to train, yes, to "train," and I got paid overtime to do that.
See, this particular industry does have a lot to offer. When you're in it, you basically have everything in your favor. It delivers a well-compensated position, unlimited avenues of learning, and a very charged working environment just to name a few.
However, as one unforgettable person used to say, this isn't a charitable institution. This is work, and they are simply justifying those benefits with a strict and arduous recruitment process. They need to make sure that they're hiring potential assets, manpower that has the talent and the skills to make the company perform good and look good at the same time. And like any organization bent on profit, they need to make sure that they're paying for their money's worth. Sadly enough, people who say things like "I understanding," "graft and corruptions," and "Filifino pood" just ain't their money's worth.
It's the sad truth. It's unfortunate, but this makes perfect sense. We all know that nobody would like to maintain liabilities in their organization. We buy pimple treatments because zits don't look good on us, and we'd prefer to eradicate them as soon as possible. At the same time, we make sure that our skin's clean enough to leave no space for such corruption.
But the thing is, it isn't for everybody. I really don't mean to break anybody's heart, but it isn't for everybody. Call me a cruel heartless bitch, but these _____ are basically "everybody."
I'm sorry if I had to be blunt.
One of the many things that kept me busy this month was this week-long training course in American Accent. I took it with the idea that a certificate in my resume would increase the size of my balls to near-implosion, and though I don't really need to enroll to validate my speaking skills, it would be fun to show off. Basically, I was there to get certified and to look nice, but I really had no idea what I would realize in the long run.
There were about eight of us in our training batch, and like they always do, we started the session with a brief introduction of ourselves. I spoke last, but before I was able to deliver my verbal handshake, I was bombarded with enough inconsistencies to leave me speechless for a while.
We haven't started training yet, so the obvious absence of the American accent was forgivable, but the tragedy doesn't begin there. We have a situation regarding their understanding of English, and believe me when I'm trying hard to make a sufficiently condescending understatement.
Underscore "sufficiently condescending..."
It was a five day training course, and I learned everything I needed to understand on Day One. Sure, I was able to pick up useful tips on how I can further improve, but everything else that I've come to understand was just simply disappointing. Don't get me wrong, the training program in itself deserves a tap on the back for it was just marvelous. But my co-trainees were, well, for lack of a better word, they were horribly _______.
I'm not usually this blunt when talking about people (har), but their understanding of the English language was sufficiently far from admirable. To say that they have a loose grip on the English language would be a morbid work of charity. I mean, the following lines from those _____ are simply dumbfounding, and hopefully will help you fill in the blanks. And understand that I was using a spell checker before posting this, so typographical errors are just plainly impossible.
"I'm not happy anymore with the depression things and the mind boggling stuff."
"I like to play basketball because of my camaraderie of my friends... my friends... that's it."
"I just sleep to relax my body, so instead of committing a sin, so I sleep."
"graft & corruptions"
"I understanding"
"As far as I know that you'd like me to tell you..."
Leonardo di Caprio and Kate Winslet's big unsinkable boat sank when it collided with this huge chunk of ice floating in the sea. Apparently, the ironic tragedy of the sinking unsinkable boat was engineered by but an insignificant part of this even bigger chunk of ice. Deliciously enough, this makes for a curious movie reference on account of my ______ co-trainees' initial defect pales in comparison when they actually tried speaking in an American tongue. Recall that this was an American Accent Training to begin with, and the main purpose of the program was to neutralize the Filipino in our English to give way to an American accent. And yes, they were wonderfully consistent with the wrong grammar all throughout. Surprisingly, more of those abovementioned quips were encountered along the way. Just when you thought they couldn't be any worse than that, they never failed to exceed themselves.
Turns out that their erroneous grammar was but soil on top of the mudpie. See, knowing how to speak in English is independent of speaking it with an Accent. And this was an entirely different can of worms as shown by the following scenarios:
"Now, pronounce the word apple with a schwa [ae]"
(a schwa sound [ae] basically is the trick to making it sound american)
[ae]pel (no, it's not [ae]pEl, it should be [ae]pple)
affel (what happened to your P's?)
[ae]ffel (were talking about a fruit here, not a tower in France)
[ae]pples (oh dear)
"So what's your favorite kind of food?"
(we heard answers like Japanese, American, and one German, but this one took time)
I like Filifino... (one f please)
I like Pilipino... (this is an American accent course, say it like an American!)
Filipino... (there you go), I like Filipino pood
"How do you describe the color red to a blind person?"
I will pocus on... (No, it's pronounced as fow-kis)
I will focus on... (again, it's fow-kis)
I will focused on... (something's wrong with your grammar, "I will fow-kis on...")
I will fow-kis on on my fersonal peelings
Stagnant is a word I haven't been using for a while now. And I kid you not when I'm telling you that I'm writing everything as they were spoken.
I asked these people why they attended this training course. Of course, the answer was obvious enough. They wanted to make it in the call center industry on the understanding that "learning" how to speak like an American would be a welcome benefit when they need to apply in any particular center. As a matter of fact, cross out "benefit" and change it to "asset" since they believed that they would have an edge after graduating from this week's worth of training. They were thinking that the certificate from this program would do them a lot of good. Not only would it look good on their resume, but it in a way makes them easy shoe-ins for any vacancy in this particular industry.
Well, that's stupid. See, learning how to speak English in a manner similar to those of Americans is different from being able to speak correct English. There's just no point in trying to speak with an accent when you're backing that up with absurd sentence constructions and infestations of grammatical flaws. Sure, Americans themselves are no different with the grammar, but then, you'll know what they are up front.
The thing is, why do you have to bother learning how to speak like an American when you can't even construct a sentence in fucking English? What damned good would that be? Why would you even bother buying yourself a goodlooking cue stick when you don't even know how to play pool? You can bop yourself silly on the head with that cue stick, but you'll gonna have to find some other ways to use it. Otherwise, it's just a pointless expense to begin with.
The idea that people just want to apply in call centers just proves to show that it indeed is a very established industry. Believe me, I'm talking out of personal experience. I've been there, and I was a happy witness to more than enough money than I deserve, a radical working environment for the chronically nocturnal, spiffs and incentives that'll make you forget about payday, and free coffee. I was even sent to a resort in Fontana to train, yes, to "train," and I got paid overtime to do that.
See, this particular industry does have a lot to offer. When you're in it, you basically have everything in your favor. It delivers a well-compensated position, unlimited avenues of learning, and a very charged working environment just to name a few.
However, as one unforgettable person used to say, this isn't a charitable institution. This is work, and they are simply justifying those benefits with a strict and arduous recruitment process. They need to make sure that they're hiring potential assets, manpower that has the talent and the skills to make the company perform good and look good at the same time. And like any organization bent on profit, they need to make sure that they're paying for their money's worth. Sadly enough, people who say things like "I understanding," "graft and corruptions," and "Filifino pood" just ain't their money's worth.
It's the sad truth. It's unfortunate, but this makes perfect sense. We all know that nobody would like to maintain liabilities in their organization. We buy pimple treatments because zits don't look good on us, and we'd prefer to eradicate them as soon as possible. At the same time, we make sure that our skin's clean enough to leave no space for such corruption.
But the thing is, it isn't for everybody. I really don't mean to break anybody's heart, but it isn't for everybody. Call me a cruel heartless bitch, but these _____ are basically "everybody."
I'm sorry if I had to be blunt.
Sunday, February 13, 2005
In Defense of Call Center Agents
** This was an article I wrote before as a response to this one halfwit I encountered in my Friendster network.Anyway, here's what he said:
"una sa lahat,, ayoko ng mahilig mageenglish!!! badtrip un!! lalo na pag paslang pa!! okay lang kung pabiro,, pero kung serioso?? naku!!!"
And here's what I said...
I've been in the call center industry for a year and six months now. Because of our target market is an english-speaking environment, and since we're speaking mostly with Americans during the 7.5 dialing hours of the shift, it's just natural if I, we, were to acquire a certain slang with the way we're speaking our American.
See, it's my profession, it's the job that I do, and I take it seriously. I'm willing to do whatever it takes to excel in this industry, starting off with the slanged tongue.
When people start disliking me for this acquired asset, it's either one of two things: maybe they failed Accent Training, or they just don't understand the near-necessity of speaking with a twang in this industry. I'm thinking it's more of the latter.
It takes a halfwit to start attacking the things they don't comprehend, and it takes a greater pail of phlegm to utterly despise this particular necessity. The one thing I really don't get with people of "white matter," (white matter is when the gray matter of the brain's gone so obsolete it faded) is that they have this amazing inclination to start hating, fearing, or maybe even groaning at things they don't understand.
Case in point: "una sa lahat,, ayoko ng mahilig mageenglish!!! badtrip un!! lalo na pag paslang pa!! okay lang kung pabiro,, pero kung serioso?? naku!!!"
This is from an actual description by one of the people here in my personal network in Friendster. I don't really know why this was posted, but I'm thinking that must be the SAME reason why I'm posting this short defense. I'm challenging whoever that was to read between the lines. I think that IF EVER the above statements (IN TAGALOG, previous paragraph) was directed to anybody in the same industry as I am, then here's your explanation:
"I am a call center agent, and I speak with Americans every single day in the work week. Americans are really not comfortable being pitched at by some 'Puerto Rican/Indian/whathaveyou,' and they tend to disagree with the sales pitch because 'they're not understanding' what we're saying. So, we try neutralizing our accents to sound less like 'Puerto Ricans/Indians/whathaveyous,' and we try to develop a certain accent for our personal well-beings as well as CSR's. If this rubs off in our daily 'kuwentuhans' with the people around us, don't even dare accusing us of being frustrated conversationalists or wannabe Caucasians. And if you're not comfortable hearing what we have to say with our acquired accents, it's not our fault, and I could never stress that enough."
If you're so beyond stupid you can't construct a sentence in English, let alone speak it okay, then put your finger out of my ass. It's not comfortable for either one of us. I'll start hating you not because you don't like the way we speak, but because you're starting to insist this particular dislike with an unnerving intensity. Yes, we are in the Philippines. And in this Tagalog-speaking community, there probably is no real reason in trying to speak in English with an accent to match. However, when your job depends on it, and your performance even more so, then you'll have no other choice but to learn. I really don't imagine that sick fuck to be able to reach this part of my article on account of all these straining sentences constructed in English, but I really would like to direct my point.
I would like to add something else to this, but I would prefer to adhere to the standards of diplomacy and refute the enchanting invitation to offend. Or to rephrase that in a manner which he would perfectly understand, "hindi bale na lang."
And in case you were wondering, I was writing this with a slang.
"una sa lahat,, ayoko ng mahilig mageenglish!!! badtrip un!! lalo na pag paslang pa!! okay lang kung pabiro,, pero kung serioso?? naku!!!"
And here's what I said...
I've been in the call center industry for a year and six months now. Because of our target market is an english-speaking environment, and since we're speaking mostly with Americans during the 7.5 dialing hours of the shift, it's just natural if I, we, were to acquire a certain slang with the way we're speaking our American.
See, it's my profession, it's the job that I do, and I take it seriously. I'm willing to do whatever it takes to excel in this industry, starting off with the slanged tongue.
When people start disliking me for this acquired asset, it's either one of two things: maybe they failed Accent Training, or they just don't understand the near-necessity of speaking with a twang in this industry. I'm thinking it's more of the latter.
It takes a halfwit to start attacking the things they don't comprehend, and it takes a greater pail of phlegm to utterly despise this particular necessity. The one thing I really don't get with people of "white matter," (white matter is when the gray matter of the brain's gone so obsolete it faded) is that they have this amazing inclination to start hating, fearing, or maybe even groaning at things they don't understand.
Case in point: "una sa lahat,, ayoko ng mahilig mageenglish!!! badtrip un!! lalo na pag paslang pa!! okay lang kung pabiro,, pero kung serioso?? naku!!!"
This is from an actual description by one of the people here in my personal network in Friendster. I don't really know why this was posted, but I'm thinking that must be the SAME reason why I'm posting this short defense. I'm challenging whoever that was to read between the lines. I think that IF EVER the above statements (IN TAGALOG, previous paragraph) was directed to anybody in the same industry as I am, then here's your explanation:
"I am a call center agent, and I speak with Americans every single day in the work week. Americans are really not comfortable being pitched at by some 'Puerto Rican/Indian/whathaveyou,' and they tend to disagree with the sales pitch because 'they're not understanding' what we're saying. So, we try neutralizing our accents to sound less like 'Puerto Ricans/Indians/whathaveyous,' and we try to develop a certain accent for our personal well-beings as well as CSR's. If this rubs off in our daily 'kuwentuhans' with the people around us, don't even dare accusing us of being frustrated conversationalists or wannabe Caucasians. And if you're not comfortable hearing what we have to say with our acquired accents, it's not our fault, and I could never stress that enough."
If you're so beyond stupid you can't construct a sentence in English, let alone speak it okay, then put your finger out of my ass. It's not comfortable for either one of us. I'll start hating you not because you don't like the way we speak, but because you're starting to insist this particular dislike with an unnerving intensity. Yes, we are in the Philippines. And in this Tagalog-speaking community, there probably is no real reason in trying to speak in English with an accent to match. However, when your job depends on it, and your performance even more so, then you'll have no other choice but to learn. I really don't imagine that sick fuck to be able to reach this part of my article on account of all these straining sentences constructed in English, but I really would like to direct my point.
I would like to add something else to this, but I would prefer to adhere to the standards of diplomacy and refute the enchanting invitation to offend. Or to rephrase that in a manner which he would perfectly understand, "hindi bale na lang."
And in case you were wondering, I was writing this with a slang.
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