Thank you, Mara, for the e-mail.
From an isangsikreto entry:
Go to my LJ and check out the “she’s totally awesome” component on my layout.
Dude, I, like, miss being an LJ Celebrity or whatever.
OKAY, SO I’M OFF TO SUBMIT ANNA BERDAN’S PHOTO TO SOME MAIL-TO-ORDER BRIDE SITE. CHEERS!
Here’s a story.
A girl, let’s call her Helga, decided some weeks ago to leave the company in which she is currently employed at, in search of a better bigger paycheck. Her friend, let’s call him Drew, referred her and anoher friend (let’s call her Allah) to the company he works for. Let’s call this company Company S.U.WTF. (S for suxxorz, U for Unprofessional, and WTF for Whiskey Tango Foxtrot).
Now Company S.U.WTF. first called Allah, and to make a sad story short, she was not hired.
Company S.U.WTF. called in Helga for an initial interview with Recruiting, and was set up with a FINAL interview with one of the department heads. And then Company S.U.WTF. called up Helga while she was at the beach last weekend, scheduling ANOTHER FINAL interview with the same dude who interviewed her.
She shows up at Company S.U.WTF., was met by a confused man: Didn’t I interview you already?
Helga: Yes, but S—y called me up last Monday and set me up with a final interview?
Helga was told to sit in some teeny-weeny office (a cubicle, more like it) and waited for a lifetime (okay, so it was about 10 minutes, but when you’re doing nothing— just staring at photos and certificates, it does seem like a fucking lifetime. I was half expecting for my grandkids to call me up for a visit), and then was told he (Department Head Man) would see her in 10-15 minutes, and she could go down for a smoke if she wanted to. She does. She comes back, runs into Department Head Man as she steps out of the elevator.
Department Head Man apologizes, says the HR department will be contacting her to finalize her employment.
Helga: So I’m hired?
DHM: Yes.
So Helga was hired right outside the elevator lobby. Whoop-de-do! She goes home, and at 8am, the HR department of Company S.U.WTF. calls her up to schedule a 2pm contract signing.
Helga goes back to Company S.U.WTF., signs the contract, drafts her resignation letter, and celebrates by watching House on DVD while eating cracker crumbs and pancit canton. She would start working for Company S.U.WTF. on November 20.
Saturday night, she wakes up, checks her phone for messages and finds that someone with a Sun Cellular number texted her. So management decided to cancel hiring for the November 20 date and would resume hiring NEXT year, January. NEVERFUCKINGMIND that contracts have been signed, resignations announced, resignations drafted, moms and bosses and co-workers informed— Helga was fired even before she has started her training for Company S.U.WTF. Oh, and they’d call her next year.
Helga’s mom is asking for her copy of the contract, so Helga and Helga’s mom could consult a lawyer.
This song is so cool.
Look, I have photos :shocked:
First five photos taken during the Milenyo Fifth-Floor Party.
Look at how cute Anna is :D
Do NOT mind the guy with the peace signs.
Anna: OMG, what did we ever do to deserve this???
How very unfabulous :hmph:
I don’t know why this photo’s size is different from the rest. But ANYWHORES, I wasn’t drunk yet. I was just resting my legs.
:blank::blank::blank:
And OMG, it’s been ages since:Â Meatshop photos!
Biceps, biceps, hide your fat biceps.
Duck lips and Mother Nature.
Anna has the same smile in ALL the photos.
I was seriously drunk by the time this shot was taken.
I have the most bullshit internet connection right now.Â
So I really should get some sleep, since I have to be up before six am tomorrow. I need to pack, get my laundry when the washers open at six am, and then be at the bus station to meet with the best friend and the co-worker. Galera weekend, baby. I don’t care if I’m obese. I’ve been eating the whole day (who the hell can resist flaming chicken wings???), and with the way the weather’s going, I’m pretty sure we’re gonna end up in parkas while glugging down rum and dropping Vis. Sounds like a weekend!
I’m slowly returning to my 18/19-year old self, and what worries me is that this whole getting drunk as fuck every night doesn’t make me feel guilty or bother me at all. It’s like I’m actually okay with it.
I passed out last Friday and skipped work. An unauthorized absence, so the shift manager told my team leader to slap a memo on my ass. That ruins my chances of getting promoted in three months. And you know what? I’mglad for this CITE form: it made the decision for me. I’m resigning, really. I’ve been hesitant if I actually wanted to leave this company, what with the opportunities, but come on: my lifestyle requires a fatter paycheck. And right now, I don’t care about climbing the call center career ladder; I just need a bigger disposable income.
It’s cowardice: fucking up on purpose so I won’t have to make a decision.
Halloween’s coming!, let’s dress up as farmers! And OMG, so we’re moving to the new house in less than three weeks and we’re throwing a wedding-themed hosuewarming party. But.. but.. come on, it’s Halloween. We should have a costume barbecue party, don’t you think (yeah, we <3 barbecues)!!!
I guess one way to start feeling better is realizing that he wasn’t that good a catch after all.
But frankly, it’s more like “convincing”.
I miss D [:cry:] and it’s a struggle deflecting the urge to e-mail him. Resist resist resist: that’s my new mantra; must stick to it. We were texting each other yesterday afternoon— and like all conversations we’ve had these past two weeks, that didn’t turn out well, too.
Did you say “no, this can’t happen to me”? Did you rush to the phone and call? Was there a voice unkind in the back of your mind, saying maybe you didn’t know him at all?
I told him: I’m just realizing how stupid I was, but whatever. It’s sad because we used to be so happy before.
His reply: Before what?
Why can’t we overcome this wall? Well, maybe it’s just because I didn’t know you at all.
SO ANYWAY. Maybe it’s the fact that I’ve had The Last Goodbye and Your Woman on repeat (though sometimes, I squeeze in Meryn Cadell’s The Sweater and Bree Sharp’s David Duchovny) for two nights now that’s prompted Alon to play matchmaker.
We were sitting out on the hallway last night, just chatting and smoking, when he threw me a “funny question” (his words): out of the five Frenchies, who did I like? Basically, he’s trying to set me up with one of his French friends, to take my mind off of D. :blush:
I went ahead and said that I find Tibo cute. Except he’s heading back to France on the 18th and might be back April next year. Not a big deal, I just think he’s a cutie? Alon was building up his other friend, Clem, who’s staying longer but who I find merely ‘okay’. Alon had this goofy smile on and his phone was out: “I’m SERIOUSLY going to text Tibo!” Eep. I said I’d think about it.
I swore I’d go on a rhum-coke and antacid diet this week, but chocolate chip cookies and Sausage McMuffin meals are just too goddamn enticing.
Copyright Helga Weber | May 2008 | Sitemap | Manila Barbie | Top
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Hi, my name's Helga Weber and welcome to my personal site. I'm 24. My first socio-political scandal will happen at the age of 35 and will include men, sushi, an African country, and lots of money. My lover is the greatest. More?
