THIS CANNOT BE.

June 29, 2007 at 3:11 am | Filed under bitchin' a ride, the internets

So I got this from Dante’s blog.

WHAT. THE. FUCK. NO. FUCKING. WAY.

This piece of hotness:

is going out with fucking Spock?!?!?!

My Kristen Bell is going out with SPOCK?!? With SYLAR?!?

Bah.

:blah:

Comments (23)

iTERMINATED.

February 17, 2007 at 1:52 am | Filed under a waste of human capital, bitchin' a ride

So I am without a job. This is kinda funny. Last month, I got my first eviction notice. This month, I got my first “You are terminated!!!!111″ talk. Teh universe doesn’t wuf me anymore. Anyway. Management doesn’t think I’m right for this company because my work habits include this: websurfing, Y!M-ing and making less than 80 calls a day. Except for the last part, I didn’t really do anything wrong.

It’s fine, really. I have so many options now, I don’t know where to apply next. I can’t afford to take a break because MY MONTHLY BILLS ONLY AMOUNT TO 9.3K A MONTH, ya know?

Let’s consider my options.

Option #1: Gamepal. Where my housemate works. Chat support for gamers. 16k net.

Option #2: ICT. Outbound sales, credit cards. 15k basic, 2.5k allowance, 20 percent night differential, easy commissions. Murderous hours.

Option #3: People Support. Customer service for expedia.com. My former co-worker asked for 20k, they gave him 20k. It’s located in Makati :hmph:

Option #4: Coastal. Inbound sales, training materials. 22k starting, plus commissions. Standard income per month, including spiffs, is around 24-25k for new hires.

If you feel sorry for me, STOPRIGHTTHERE. My bootcamp batchmate actually gave me a cookie!

I’m taking a graceful exit. I disputed my manager’s evaluation stats because he was SO WRONG, and he never showed me my new score even though I asked him for it. Drew tells me to do something about it before I leave, but I don’t know. I’m going to Starbucks in a while. I’m still thinking if I should wait out the whole shift and get paid for the day, or go home and drink BECAUSE IT’S A FRIDAY NIGHT, YEAH? The other guy who didn’t make it went home already. Dude was sexually harrassing his seatmate, what was he thinking?!

By the way. We’ve moved into the new condo. I’m such a rockstar today. Fourth time I’m wearing the same pair of jeans this week because I can’t find my clothes.

WANT A NEW LIFE? YOU CAN BID FOR ONE!

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AND WE’RE OUT.

January 27, 2007 at 6:24 am | Filed under bitchin' a ride

So I’ve been out of the country. But that’s just wishful thinking; work has me down on my knees begging please please please. The new job is fun (so far), and I find it quite amusing that I’m finally out of the call center industry. Sort of. I’m purely in sales now, but still working the night shift because that’s just how the Third World life is.

Let’s talk about work some other time, since I’d rather rant; and so far everything’s going well in that aspect of my life.

I will be without a place to stay come the 26th of February. No, the people I live with did not vote me off the island. Our landlady has. We all received our first eviction notice the other day. Apparently, they “cannot continue on with our tenure on a monthly basis”. For those few idiots out there, that means we are not under contract. The thing is, we ARE supposed to have a contract– we’ve been waiting for those papers since the day we moved in last October 26. Our landlady promised she’d hand us the contract November 1st, since the existing unit’s contract was written in a family context. That never happened.

This royally sucks. We’re supposed to be good for at least a year’s stay here. Without that contract, we’re fucked. I was planning on going househunting with my two cousins next month for a place to house five people (my cousins, Anna, Allah, and I) since our landlady implied a few days ago that she wants us out by March (when Q leaves). That worked sorta perfectly, giving us enough time to pool money together for the deposit and rent advance.

If anything, on our way to the grocery the other night, Allah and I spotted an “apartment for rent” sign just a few houses down the street from our place. Allah was supposed to give the lady a call and she didn’t. I think. ARGH, I DON’T KNOW. We’re crossing our fingers the place is nice (three bedrooms, preferrably) AND affordable. We’re currently paying 4,400 pesos each a month, and I’m willing to up my budget to 5k or 5.5k. After all, I’m now earning more than I did with my previous job.

I have a new email address: heweber@REMOVEMEbranders.com. But don’t send me mail there, it’s strictly for client correspondence. I am no longer an employee number. I just don’t get why there’s an ‘e’ there; a ‘g’ or ‘p’ would’ve been more appropriate. It took the IT guy two tries to figure out why he couldn’t set up an email account for me under ‘hweber’.

Karma will bite our landlady in the ass, I swear. She sent us an SMS asking us to set up a meeting with her to discuss our deposit, concerns, bills etc. since we all have different schedules. Whatever, maybe the next tenants’s going to be a family of pedophiles who will spend 24/7 ogling at the pre-school kids.

Comments (17)

NEWSFLASH.

January 5, 2007 at 8:26 am | Filed under bitchin' a ride, ditz drivel

Hey kids. I resigned yesterday and I’ll be using up my remaining leave credits in such a way that the next time I have to deal with these tediously stupid Caucasians and African-Americans (no offense meant, we all know how much I love Taylor Hanson and Warrick Brown. And Melanie B. It’s just that when you’re tired and hungry and some fuck up calls in and wastes your time by hanging up as soon as you ask for their credit card information— it tries my patience) will be on the 19th. My last day with this godforsaken company.

That means I don’t know when I’ll be on-line next.

Tell me: what great sin have I committed to deserve two mentally-retarded probably-a-year-or-two-older-than-me girls singing Barny’s I Love You You Love Me song a few feet behind me?

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PEACHY KEEN, EH.

December 21, 2006 at 11:32 pm | Filed under a waste of human capital, bitchin' a ride

It’s a fact that I hate to admit, but in Katipunan, tricycle drivers are kings. Those shitheads own not just the roads, but a huge chunk of your everyday Katipunan existence as well. And on days like today, I wish I were God (like, truly truly God) armed with an AK-47 and the legal right to open fire and headshot their sneering smirking heads to bits.

Today, I left the apartment at half past two in the afternoon with 21 Christmas cards in my bag. I took a jeep to get to the UP Post Office. Now UP is only SUPPOSED to be ten minutes away from Katipunan, but no thanks to the traffic, my plans of sending out those cards were foiled. The post office closes at 3. It doesn’t help that I haven’t been to the Diliman campus in MONTHS— I had this wild look in my eyes that screamed “I DON’T BELONG HERE!” and I just had to leave my cigarettes at home. I could be naked and fat in the middle of EDSA during rush hour, but hand me a lit cigarette and I can fucking strut the highway and make naked and fat look cool. Or the new black.

So anyway. I passed by Shoppersville to get some boxes and wrappers because ’tis the season for that. After dilly-dallying for half an hour, I leave the place and approach a parked tricycle. I give the driver my street name and my exact compound, he pauses and then asks how much I normally pay. 12 pesos, I say. Asshat starts reasoning out and for the nth time that day, I wish I had my cigarettes with me so I could’ve blown smoke into his face before I walked away. This cretin (a tricycle driver, too) who was sitting on the sidewalk next to his tricycle scoffed at my back: “12 pesos? For a pedicab, maybe!” Fucking idiot. You’re a trike driver, I live on lower, not upper Abada. KNOW THE FARE DIFFERENCE.

So off I walk to the tricycle terminal outside the dorm where I used to live. I stopped by the bank, drew out some cash, and as I walked past Rustan’s (the grocery), I hear someone calling my name. Not just one “Helga!” but many many Helgas. “Helga! Helga! HELGA!”

I turn my head and what do I see? A group of tricycle drivers sitting on a concrete stump with silly smiles pasted on their grimy city-tanned faces. My mind seriously froze. Like. Seriously. Froze. I was holding my phone because I had a message from Chuchubells and the words were a blur and for a few seconds, it was like my brain had forgotten how to string letters and words together. I approached a waiting trike, stared at the driver (who stared back) before I was able to go “Abada. *pause* Family Montessori. *pause*” And then I realized I actually had to get in, to get home.

I texted Chuchubells about the incident and he said that’s what I get for always walking along and around Katipunan. IT’S NOT LIKE I DO SO WEARING A FUCKING NAME TAG!

“Maybe I should change my name”, I told Allah when I got home. So from now on, my Katipunan screen name is MARY-KATE, okay? In front of tricycle drivers and tambays, I am NOT Helga; I am Mary-Kate.

Also, I’d just like to point out how much I hate office gossip. D texted me last Tuesday night, out of the blue, to say that he’s disappointed that he’s heard I’ve been talking trash about him. I replied with a “Don’t talk about you. Don’t even THINK about you.”

So last night, I was drunk, pissed off at Chuchubells, had downed three Vis, and had the brilliant idea to bitch at D. Don’t ask me what happened because my memory’s a bit fuzzy. Why are the Alabang people even talking about me, damn it.

Comments (4)