THE VERDICT: People vs. A Couple of Heartless, Know-nothing, Scumbags of Society

WHEREFORE, the accused-appellants which we collectively identify as A COUPLE OF HEARTLESS, KNOW-NOTHING, SCUMBAGS OF SOCIETY, are found guilty of theft, destruction to property, and declared to be the PINAKAMABABANG URI NG TAO, a subspecies of MGA PATAY-GUTOM and are hereby sentenced to a shitty lifetime of misery because HINDI SILA, KAILANMAN, AASENSO, and are further ordered to subject themselves to XTIN’s verbal lashing in place of imprisonment and damages, actual and moral.

SO ORDERED.

I got a call while I was in the office last Friday. It was Cavite Kagawad WOODY MALLARI. He told me that a barangay patrolmen of his found some of my things, including my IDs, in a plastic bag, dumped in some talahiban along Aguinaldo Highway. Thank you, Sir, for contacting me.

This is as far as my gratitude could ever go, in this particular situation, I’m afraid.

I was sickened to know how much those mongrels (aka Couple of Heartless, Know-Nothing, Scumbags of Society) had taken when, the next day, my brother claimed our things or what was left of it.

I got my book back, thank God. At least I wouldn’t be spending some P1,250 just to buy a book that I have already bought months before. My cases and digests found their way back to me as well. Keys and IDs, too. But what disgusts me to the core is how these scumbags left behind evidence of their being pathetic vagrants and commoners to the study of law.


I had in my bag a pack of unused notebook fillers and they took that, understandably, as they were unused and mapapakinabangan pa naman. However, the ones that I got back, though, were the used ones, just like the picture above. But did you know that I had to tape up the pages of this filler because it was sliced off (see portion near spine where there is a bit of a gap where I had obviously put a transparent tape), leaving untouched the still unused pages of the filler. So why the crap did they have to cut those pages up? To my mind, there is only one valid but pathetic reason. They must’ve thought that they could still profit from a half-used filler notebook that they decided to cut off those used-up pages and leave those clean leaves behind. My gosh. Matindi talaga ang pangangailangan. I guess they just realized that it was pointless and hassling to cut each and every used page in my other 4 filler notebooks, that is why there was this just one notebook torn up.

Further, as expected, they took all the “valuable” stuff: the bag, perfume, mp3 player, etc. but what I found most repulsive is the fact that they even took my 20-peso plastic envelope and my 8-peso credit card holder, even my office ID lace. What the crap? Seriously?

I LOATHE YOU. NAKAKADIRI KAYO. YOU DESERVE NOTHING BUT A MISERABLE LIFE. A QUALITY OF LIVING WORTHY OF MEN OF YOUR LOWLY AND PATHETIC STATURE.

You don’t even deserve to be in jail. All you should get is a word (or two) that will drag you down and put you in your place. And, expectedly, I would be really glad to personally extend those KIND words to you—

YOU UNEDUCATED HALF-WITS. Leche kayo.

People vs. A Couple of Heartless, Know-nothing, Scumbags of Society (A Case of the Day When I Was Robbed)

The undersigned accuses A COUPLE OF HEARTLESS, KNOW-NOTHING, SCUMBAGS OF SOCIETY of the crime of theft and destruction to property, committed as follows:

That on or about the 17th day of August, 2008, in the City of Tagaytay, Cavite, Philippines, the said COUPLE OF HEARTLESS, KNOW-NOTHING, SCUMBAGS OF SOCIETY, with intent to gain and without violence or intimidation against the person or force against the thing, did then and there, willfully, unlawfully, and feloniously, effect entry into a parked motor vehicle by breaking a window thereof, to subsequently take, steal, and carry away two (2) backpacks, containing various personal effects and other things of significance, the property of XTIN and her brother, without the consent of the owners thereof, to the damage and prejudice of the said XTIN and her brother in some sum beyond the comprehension of mere commoners, particularly those unfamiliar to the study of law and the law of karma and samsara. ALL CONTRARY TO LAW.

It was just last Sunday when my family and I went to Tagaytay for an overnight affair with other relatives. It was supposed to be my first family get-together for a long time since I started working and attending school. I have not had enough time to go spend time with my relatives, even though they do hold these get-togethers quite frequently, because frankly, I'd rather lose a part of my social life and get passing marks in school, rather than have the time of my life in some family vacation and flunk it all. You might not get it, that's okay. But if you don't, I think your are what the abovementioned information says--a mere commoner, oblivious to the life of the study of law.

Yes, I was robbed. Our backpacks were taken away from the inside of my brother's SUV parked on the side of some dirtroad of the main road of Tagaytay. It was not so much as a breath after we alighted and went into my relatives' villa when news broke that someone crashed the window of the SUV and took our stuff. Seriously, there was not even ten minutes.

My sister-in-law told me that my bag could have also been stolen so I went back to the car and checked. I pressed my face against the back window and saw just the void where my backpack used to sit.

And there was darkness.

My entire TNF Jester (vietnam-overrun, ty kumon) was taken. I was not concerned that: (1) my three-month old 16gb Creative Zen which I opted to pay in installments and which I am still on my fourth installment was in the bag; nor was (2) my half-consumed bottle Burberry Summer; (3) bag of toiletries complete with papaya soap, lotion, deodorant, shampoo, conditioner, toothbrush, toothpaste, dental floss, and tictacs; (4) wallet, without money, but with all my valid IDs and important cards (PRC license, office and school IDs, TIN card, Visa, UCPB-BPI-MBTC ATM cards [blocking all of which, by the way, was particulary an easy task except for BPI, for which it took me ten minutes to contact the customer service representative--24-hour hotline my ass], library card, and Form 5; even my (5) keys to the house, unit, office locker, and computer lock. These were, yes, important and theoretically of value to me. But the loss of these things were nothing compared to the loss of something else, also in the bag.

In the bag also were my school materials. My commentary on Persons and Family Relations by Albano. My copies of Supreme Court cases, in the original, under legal separation under Prof. RDM's class. My pencil case. And, above all, my handwritten digests of 65 cases for RDM's class which were supposed to be due--this coming Wednesday.

Tough break, xtin. Tough break.

So, if you impute no value to the last set of losses I endured or find it difficult to comprehend, I must say that, again, you are merely a commoner to me and to the rest of us who are students of law. I have never asserted, in this degree and manner, the post-graduated course I have taken. But, the loss of my bag, especially my digests, truly breaks my heart.


To the COUPLE OF HEARTLESS, KNOW-NOTHING, SCUMBAGS OF SOCIETY that took my bag and my brother's as well, I will pray for the eternal repose of your souls. But seeing that you may not have souls at all, I'll just pray for your spontaneous, yet peaceful, imploding and combustion.

But when our paths do cross in the future, better prepare yourselves. I expect so much from you.

(1) I expect you to enroll to the College of Law next year and be ready and equipped for RDM's Persons and Family Relations class. You must ace even just the midterm, at least. My school stuff will help you out on that.

(2) You must look generally presentable--if not downright boy-next-doorish. You must have fresh breath, smooth, silky, straight hair, and a mild, refreshing citrus scent. You must have all these or a girlfriend who does, at least. My bag of toiletries will make you over.

(3) You must be Upbeat and Burning the Dance Floor with the playlists on my MP3 player.

(4) You must feel disappointment for finding out that I was able to block each and every card in that wallet you got from me, within 30 minutes after you violated our property. [no thanks to BPI and their 24-hour hotline]

(5) You must be scared to death. Because I might be praying for your peaceful departure from this earth, but that should not give you any idea that I will have some hesitation in personally effecting your demise.

Mga leche kayo.

Love, xtin.

No picture was taken of the crime scene because, truth be told, I was in shock. Hindi ko kinaya. Sayang.

The Most Unique Kind of B.O. [and other things that went (horribly) wrong during my trip to Legaspi]

DAY 1

In keeping with the tradition of Filipino time. Our flight to Legaspi was delayed for two hours. Many thanks to the newly opened NAIA Terminal 3 and the ever-efficient personnel who work there. Apparently, according to the pilot, the delay was due to the congestion in that aesthetically-wonderful, but poorly-performing airport. A lot of flights were delayed that morning, and since the airport (or its personnel) are still not used to handling such kind of traffic, the delay rolled to the rest of the afternoon: classic ripple effect.

Welcome to Legaspi. When we got there, we went around a bit to see which hotel we could stay at. We were not looking, mind you, for accommodations close to spectacular, because my companions and I were simply the type who just needs a bed to sleep on, just a clean one, though. We found ourselves at the reception of what its management had decided to call it The Sampaguita Ho[spi]tel, insertion supplied; pun intended. The five of us were really a bit lost on what kind of room to get to fit us all in so, like any other curious customer would, we asked the receptionist. Oh, wait, the receptionists. Plural, friends, plural, as there were at least three girls at the counter. But three heads will not always be better than one. As it turned out, the grandiose Sampaguita Ho[spi]tel had unknowingly employed the three stupidest and worst receptionists in the whole of Bicol Region. It's not as if our questions were derived from some MENSA questionnaire: Pwede ba ang mag-add ng extra bed sa isang standard room? Magkano ang extra bed? Meron pa bang family room? They gave us no answers. Only the stupid look on their faces—the kind you would want badly to slap back and forth. Yeah, they were hellish, but hey, the five of us were not about to wander around homeless for the next two days. We checked in anyway.

Pictures courtesy of virtualtourist.com (Above) The facade of hotel Sampaguita, reminiscent of Medical Center Paranaque (Left) The room rates the receptionists were not able to explain to us...

receptionist: Ma'am bawal po ang extra bed...

xtin: eh bakit kayo may rates for extra beds? ABER???

DAY 2
Being in Legaspi and not seeing Mayon. I was looking forward to seeing the world-famous "perfect cone" volcano. The one that I often saw just in my HEKASI books. Alas, the skies were not about to pave its way to satisfy my whim. It was cloudy and raining hard, even, so the most that we saw of Mayon Volcano was its base. The rest of the view was gray and gloomy.

Collar-ups in Sampaguita Hotel. Nothing to say here. A picture's worth a thousand words.

DAY 3

Going back home and still keeping with the tradition of Filipino Time. Our flight back was delayed as well. For 3 whole hours, this time. The thing still to blame was the newly opened terminal 3 and the congestions. Same old, same old. The passengers were agitated. And so were we…

The most unique kind of B.O. As if the delay was not enough, we still had to be intoxicated with some foreign smell (foreign being the operative word, as you may later find out why). SHET. ANG BAHO. SERIOUSLY. The only way to describe the foul smell is with this…have you ever had that drawer in your fridge where your mom puts all the vegetables in…the CRISPER? When you open the CRISPER, it's a mix of smells…of all the vegetables, both fresh and rotting…of bell pepper, lettuce, onion, carrots…are you getting the idea? Basta…that was the type of smell we had to contend with. It was B.O. obviously and all we had to do was to find out who was stinking the whole terminal up. And not too long after…we did find the culprit… (see guy standing up, in black shirt)

We're not even sure if it was just this guy or the rest of his group.

One thing's for sure, if it was not ALL of them, it was indeed ONE of them. Based on observation, these people came all the way from CWC and apparently, since they had to catch their flight, they did not have time to take a bath. They went straight from wakeboarding to boarding the damn plane. ANG BAHO PROMISE. Actually, we were originally seated in the third row, but since we could not stand the smell of the group behind us, we had to transfer to the first row. It was not just us. The smell was not a figment of our imagination. One other group who was staying at the last row, behind the MABAHO group, also transferred to the row behind us, just so they could breathe some fresh, uncontaminated air. It was THAT bad. SERIOUSLY.

Gigster caps, Koreans, and other Douchebags in Terminal 3. I don't think I would have to describe in detail these half-wits. Just look at the pictures.

Tama ba namang kasing mag-boxers sa airport eh, noh???

Quintessential Pinoy Douche: Total HipHop Getup

Sando. Zebra prints. Korean. Nice.

Gigster cap. So anong tinatawa-tawa mo diyan???

Ahhh…so many things went wrong those three days. The only good thing that came out of that streak of horrible occurences is this blog entry. This is pretty much it. All I could wish for now is for none of you to smell the CRISPER ever again.

Wall of Fun at Glorietta 4

Demn. Some of the faces were hellishly funny [or just plain disturbing?]

I haven't had the time the past week to come up with a more thoughtful entry. But this one, I couldn't have it pass me by. It deserves a bit of my pintasera prowess, at least.

Just this lunch break, my officemates and I ate out over at Food Choices at G4. When we were done and heading back to the office, on our way, we passed by this hall--the one connecting the Hard Rock/TGIF area to Food Choices (cannot really describe where it is, as it is pretty much an abandoned area of the mall, just refer to the image below)--and saw a great big wall of pictures...all headshots.

Location of the big wall of amusement

My officemates taking their time to pay their respect to "The Wall"

You could just imagine the overwhelming feeling that consumed me the moment I saw that wall--a huge wall. Full of pictures. Headshots. Of many different people. Even of [f]ugly ones.

"Yes," I thought while looking up the wall, my eyes glistening with excitement, like a child on Christmas morning, "Let me take a moment of silence to thank God for giving me this wonderful opportunity...Enough silence. "

#1 SHAHANI

looks a bit like...

Well, maybe SHAHANI was made to look like the Golden Buddha on purpose (for sure!) But I think the Golden Buddha could take some "pose and project" tips from SHAHANI...

#2 NO-NAME

Man as man can get. Minus the plunging neckline and cleavage, that is.

#3 MAX

What a pose! My gosh! Super laugh trip...for a while there I thought our dear MAX was holding a samurai. Then, I just realized that MAX is no ninja...he's a divine DIVA! Hahaha

#4 JR

looks a bit like...

My precious............

So if you're raring to go to Glorietta to take a crack at this wonderful wall put up by Headshot Clinic, wait for another minute. All those nicely taken pictures, the beautiful and the [f]ugly, you can now view online at PROJECT HEADSHOT CLINIC ONE WORLD MANILA

ENJOY!!!

My Starbucks Hitlist: Deconstructing the Starbucks Crowd [Part 1]

I want to go on a shooting spree.

I must admit that I’m a bit fixated on Starbucks right now. Can you blame me? It’s where most, if not all, of my material comes from. It has become THE venue for me to go people watching, simply because it is THE only place I’ve gone to in the past weeks where there are other more interesting people to watch.

Now if you know me and what this blog is about, you’d know that I love people watching, but it doesn’t necessarily mean I love the people I watch. I actually hate them. I get pissed off while observing them. That is precisely the irony I live in. I love people watching because I love getting pissed off by the people I hate.

I suppose hate is too strong a word. Oh, sorry…it just might be TOO WEAK. When I sit down in my corner, open my books, sip my iced (nonfat) classic chocolate, and start to allow the presence of other people to disturb me, we’re not simply talking about HATRED. Think big. Think shooting spree.

Based on a year’s experience gained through studying at many different Starbucks, here is a list that I have conjured of the kind of people you’d meet in Starbucks (and would want to shoot), the tell-tale signs in spotting them, and which Starbucks branches you’d probably have sightings of them:


#1 Korean Mob (BF Parañaque)

Lately, going to Starbucks has been like warping into masterful Koreanovela episode.

Tell-tale signs (You know that the Korean Mob is in the establishment when you):

(a) notice a HERD of adolescent Asians who look like each other
(b) see them with either a wild pair of footwear or an unbecoming Sunday dress (or both)
(c) note that their hairdo is either curly or poker straight, but will always have bangs, either way; if it's a guy, the 'do is most probably going to be the Bruce Lee cut
(d) hear them mumbling nonsense in loud, well-modulated voices that seem like its coming from the back of the throat
(e) catch them running, with exaggerated excitement, to the unoccupied set of Starbucks couches, noisily dragging their heels all the way across the floor—thereby causing one solid disturbance to the disadvantage of everyone else who was unfortunately in the store
(f) feel like they are EVERYWHERE

NOTE: SAME TABLE. TWO DIFFERENT GROUPS. FYI.

This may sound so racist, I know—that part I’m not particularly fond of—but I’m so freaking fed up with seeing these Koreans everywhere. It’s a freaking invasion! For some reason, they move in packs. You’ll rarely see one walking lonely into the night. That is just one of the many ENDEARING things about them. This group is so APPEALING that you’d find them in a few other categories on this hitlist.

Although it has been a year that I have shared my favorite Starbucks with these Koreans, I have neither acquired a taste for their presence nor developed immunity to it. Most of the time, they have not so much as stepped foot on the store floor, I already want to pull out a pistol—and shoot myself.


#2 Camera Whores (Eastwood, BF, Trinoma, Gateway)

One more flash and I promise you, magbibigti talaga ako.

Tell-tale signs (You know you they are Camera Whores if they):

(a) are a group of teeny boppers (or teeny boppers at heart) who have their digicams perpetually in tow
(b) bunch up so closely together while sipping their Frappucinos just so they could fit within the frame of a shot
(c) pose for a picture with either a Blue Steel, Magnum, or a generic slutty Wink, or a Gucci Gang take
(d) have one of them take the shot herself whilst ALSO posing for the picture, holding the camera as she raises one hand in the air
(e) take pictures of themselves, as described in a,b,c,d, in an endless number of repetitions as if Starbucks was their own personal studio, thereby blinding you with the irritating flashes that come out of each damn shot.

I know you know them. Maybe you may have, even once in your life, become one of them. Ugh. If I wanted to spend my time watching fugly model wannabes, I’d just watch Wowowee or something. I won’t go all the way to Starbucks and watch the bitches whore up their cams. If I had one successful suicide attempt for every time these Starbucks Camera Whores take an idiotic picture of themselves, I would have died so many times enough to qualify for genocide.


#3 All for one cup, one cup for all Group (Katipunan, BF, Rockwell)

1 cup=10 people. Or worse, no cup at all. Call them freeloaders, if you will.

Tell-tale signs (One can easily spot these impoverished Starbucks dwellers by noting):

(a) an unreasonably large group of people, those the size of a Korean Mob [supra]
(b) that only one or two from the group orders a drink or a pastry goodie
(c) that they are the ones who have the guts to occupy half of the seating area and talk so loudly as if they own the place

Starbucks is utterly lenient in dealing with these vagrants that they are easily taken advantage of. That is why there are more and more people who go to Starbucks, but who really can’t afford to do so. Again, hanging out at Starbucks won’t make you sosyal. It’s not a status symbol. If you have been a loser a great deal part of your life, hanging out at Starbucks with a herd of your co-loser friends and simply watching other customers drink their lattes won’t magically make you the next IT-girl/guy.

Go to Starbucks. Hang out. Build a fort inside the establishment, should you so desire. I don’t care, really. But, order a damn drink naman…a short café latte at least! Malulugi ang Starbucks niyan sa inyo, eh. They just might have to start charging all of us for their own systems loss.


#4 The Broken-hearted and the Shoulder-to-cry-on (BF, Katipunan, Gateway)

Sometimes, it takes a cup of coffee, a couch, a friend, and a jam-packed coffee shop, full of curious individuals, to comfort one emotionally stricken individual.

Tell-tale signs (you know they’re the-broken-hearted and the shoulder-to-cry-on when):

(a) a pair, most of the time a pair of two women, sits in the most discreet corner of the establishment
(b) they start up talking in whispers, but evidently talking about something really important and issue-intensive
(c) one of them suddenly wells up, sobs to death, and occasionally makes remarks like “He’s such a jerk” or “’Di ba? Ayoko na, hindi ko na kaya” you could easily overhear
(d) the other makes out a pitying expression and utters something as cliché and irritating as “O, don’t cry na. Okay lang ‘yan.”
(e) when you suddenly feel the drama of it all

I admit that I, myself, several times in my life, have aired my dirty laundry at some Starbucks. Now, I strongly feel that I should not have done that. Seeing these drama queens flooding the shop with their tales and tears of heartache does not make me empathic. It makes me feel ashamed for them for letting me view the free daytime soap opera.


#5 30-ish, 40-ish on their post reunion gimmick-slash-after-party (BF, Katipunan, 6750)

Mahirap talaga ang tumatanda—habang tumatagal, napapaghalatang repressed.

Tell-tale signs (You know you’ve spotted these old-timers when you):

(a) see a big group of middle-aged men and women, in very dressy and color-coordinated outfits (the color coordination being the result of a themed party) and with nametag stickers
(b) hear sporadic bursts of laughter that bring down the house, with one strong laugh overpowering the others, that of an old man that sounds a bit like Santa Claus laughing
(c) feel as if you’re going down memory lane
(d) notice that the group has gone to double its population within the first hour it came in the shop
(e) figure that they’re staying until the shop closes…at 2AM.

But maybe they just have some catching up to do. These people are not particularly irritating. It just feels like they’re so misplaced in Starbucks and that pisses me off just a bit. Shouldn’t you all be at home tucking your kids in and acting like typical parents would? Repressed, people. Repressed. Parang mga kabayong na pinakawalan sa koral.

TO BE CONTINUED...

Two Episodes in Nike Stadium Powerplant Mall

EPISODE LAST TUESDAY

Last Tuesday, I went to Nike Stadium Power Plant mall just to see what was on sale. Upon getting there, I was greeted by a salesman, “Good morning, ma’am!”

I acknowledged the greeting by nodding back.

However, it should be said that their consumer relations tactics stopped there—for that one salesman and one other, at least. They were completely unmindful of my presence in the store that I could have snuck something out of there without triggering the alarms. They were both preoccupied in the pre-purchase routine of this guy who was there in the store when I got there.

Backgrounder: This guy was sitting down on the bench as he was examining and about to fit a new pair of Nike Hyperdunks, which costs PhP6,500. The two salesmen who were the only two employees manning the store floor, well apart from the cashier, of course, were stationed beside of the customer, one on each side, as if one was the guardian angel and the other was the devil.

Customer: ‘Di ba ito ang ginagamit ng La Salle? Pero bakit yung kanila may black? May nike.id ba ito?

Salesman1: Ay ewan ko po, sir. [stares at the shoes the customer is holding with his mouth wide open]

xtin: [stands at the end of the bench and looks at the shoes for women on sale]

C: Sa Ateneo din ‘di ba? Ito ang gamit nila? Pare-pareho sila eh. Pero si Chris Tiu lang ang hindi. Adidas talaga siya. Eh yung sa FEU? Ganito din ang gamit nila pero ibang color yata.

Salesman2: Alin ‘yun? La Salle? [also stares at the shoes with his mouth wide open]

C: Hindi. FEU. [slips his feet into the shoes, stomps a little bit, laces them up, and stands up]

S1 and S2: [continues to salivate over the shoes as the customer checks out how the shoes look in the mirror]

C: Grabe, mabinyagan na nga ito mamaya. Magamit na.

S1: Marami ka na ring Nike noh? [looks at the shoes and talks as if owning multiple Nikes is a sign of royalty]

C: Oo. [gives out a satisfied smile for the remark of S1 and for the good fit of his new shoes. Proceeds to the counter to pay]

S1: [continues to adore the customer the shoes he is about to purchase]

S2: [follows the shoes with his gaze, still salivating, then talks to S1] Ganun talaga pare. Sa pangarap na lang tayo makakabili ng ganyan [gives out a sigh].

S1: [sighs, as well, and conjures a twinkle in his eyes]

x: [feels overlooked and unattended to, rolls her eyes, steps out of the store, but still manages to steal a shot or shots]

That was appalling. The TWO remaining salespeople on the floor were salivating over the purchase of one customer, completely ignorant of what they were actually being paid for. Or maybe they ARE paid for that—Para magkanda-ugaga over a single customer and take the others for granted.

I’m not one who pays particular attention to the service salespeople provide me when I go to any store. As far as I’m concerned, the make or break situation that stands in the middle of me buying something from the store and walking out of the establishment empty handed will never be decided on the persuasive skills of a salesperson.

That doesn’t mean, however, that I’m completely oblivious of a salesperson’s manners in general. Though I don’t expect you to persuade me into buying anything, since you’re in the store as a salesperson, I still expect you to have a set of manners that are well intact, being in the business of consumer relations and all. I have this general expectation—you be a car sales agent in Honda, a sales lady in Kamiseta, or even a shoe sales man in Nike Stadium.

I am particularly drawn to the attitude of the staff of Nike Stadium at Power Plant mainly because I have had a previous episode with one of them several months ago.

EPISODE SEVERAL MONTHS AGO

Backgrounder: I went to Rockwell that Saturday because it was, after all, a Rockwell Weekend Sale, if I remember it correctly. I had on my brand spanking new pair of white canvas sneakers that I bought a week earlier and I wandered around the mall, aimlessly, searching for reason and purpose (Wow. That was a Gucci gang-ish statement). As the store was also on sale, Nike Stadium was packed with shoppers and the salespeople were endlessly preoccupied with anything and everything.

xtin: [looks around with nothing particular in mind then finds a laptop bag which she eventually decides on buying]

x: [approaches a salesman] Excuse me, may bagong stock kayo nito? [refers to the bag she is holding]

Salesman: [takes the bag, gives nothing but a look, turns his back, and goes to the stock room]

x: [waits]

S: [comes out of the stock room, approaches xtin, and hands over to her the new stock]

x: Thanks.

S: [looks at her, nods, prepares himself to walk away, calculates his next step which was going to be over xtin’s feet to reach the other side of where xtin was standing, and actually makes that step...]

S: [realizes that he has stepped on xtin’s brand spanking new white canvas sneakers, whispers—] Ay, sorry. [gives xtin a certain look which xtin could not understand if it was either apologetic or adversarial, as if xtin was inconveniently standing in his way]

x: SHIT! [frantically dusts off the nasty mark the stupid salesman left on her white sneakers]

SS (now, not for salesman, but for STUPID SALESMAN): [looks at xtin, shrugs his shoulders, turns his back, walks away, and pulls two other salesmen to one corner where the three of them start to whisper things amongst themselves]

x: [makes some sort of a scene in the middle of the store. Exhibits her patent pissed off look, rolls her eyes, continues to exaggeratedly dust off her shoes as she walked towards the cashier]

SS: [acts oblivious]

x: [pays for the bag with no assistance whatsoever from any other sales staff, gives one hostile look to the STUPID SALESMAN, and walks out of the store]

Well, I was acting a bit anal and diva-ish about my white sneaker, yes, but that was beside the freaking point. I wasn’t expecting him to personally dust my shoe off. But he could’ve been more apologetic about it, at least. He didn’t even have the courtesy to assist me all the way to counter, considering the boo-boo he had just committed. I thought twice if I really wanted to buy the bag after what had happened. But again, my decision was not about to rely on how a salesperson had (mal)treated me. So I went ahead and bought the bag.

The one thing I could not get over is that I did not note the name of the Stupid Salesman. To make matters worse, as of press time, I could not find the Nike receipt from my purchase, which could have indicated the name of the Stupid Salesman.

I didn’t even take a picture of him. All I remember is that he was moreno, of medium built, and had puttied hair, stereotypical of any department store salesman.

So, if you’re planning to buy some Nike stuff, I suggest you DO NOT head off to Nike Stadium at the Powerplant Mall. You can visit, say, the Nike Stadium over at Shang, where the personnel are better mannered and more accommodating (thanks to Archie Sirame and Marianne, the cashier), as I learned when I went there (the store was also packed that day as it was also on sale) and purchased a pair of soccer shoes.

And to the Stupid Salesman: THANK ELVIE, OUR HOUSEHELP, FOR IF NOT FOR HER SUCCESSFULLY WASHING OUT THE NUISANCE YOU OH SO RECKLESSLY IMPUTED ON MY WHITE SNEAKERS, I WOULD STILL BE CONTEMPLATING A (MURDEROUS) REVENGE. Well, come to think of it, even if my sneakers are white and clean again, the moment I find that receipt and discover what your real name is, I still won’t have second guesses in posting it here as a tribute to your impeccable consumer relations skills. Touché, right?

A Dancer and an Archer-Hater in Starbucks

I actually have more interesting things to rant about than this, but the timeliness of relaying this story is vital. This story may go untold for just a week and the humor in it could already diminish significantly, by then.

This is my story.

In an attempt to distance myself as far away as I can from my bed and to avoid giving in, yet again, to one of my notorious slumbers, I packed my trusty messenger bag and went to Starbucks Katipunan to study.

When I got there, the most familiar ambience greeted me: the place was not so jam-packed (as it WAS a Saturday night after all, only a geek like me would rather spend time catching up on lessons I've lagged behind from than, I don't know, doing some thing more un-geeky), it was filled with people who are familiar yet I haven't met, and it was reeking of a signature smell, the type that clings on to your clothes, of a mixture of both burning cigarettes and brewing coffee. I look around one more time and say to myself, "Ahh, yes, Starbucks. I'm back," not in a contented and subtly jubilant manner so much as it was just an acknowledgment of that reality.

In any case, there has never been a good reason behind my being in Starbucks, for the past year at least. I go, very rarely to hangout, but more often to study. And that, my friends, I think, is never a good thing. Well, the nouveau geek that I am, I may make it sound like it's not as bad as I thought it would, mainly because for whatever reason it is that I am in Starbucks, one thing's for sure: I'm bound to find something interesting lurking around the establishment. And, as if on cue, two people worthy of MY anawayaday attention, came to close proximity.

STARBUCKS FIND #1 THE ARCHER HATER
Backgrounder: I was, yes, eavesdropping in the conversation of this group of four people. Although the main character was mostly enunciating everything, there were times their conversation simply became incomprehensible. But from what I gathered, they came from a party, the main character at least as she was dressed as if the themed party barfed on her, they were all ATENISTAS, and the main character has recently had an encounter with a LASALLISTA whom, I think, she likes (or not anymore) and who was flirting with her in some way.

ARCHER HATER: (talking about her Lasallista prospect) So, tinanong niya, "Always bang issue ang Ateneo-La Salle sa inyo?" Eh ako kasi nasanay ako na puro Atenista. Marinig ko pa lang na Lasallista ang tao, negative na agad! 'Pag Lasallista, iisipin ko agad [insert some incomprehensible talk], "Ang yabang!" Ang sama 'di ba? Pero, PUH-RUNG, ganun talaga 'ko lumaki.

Aww. Poor LASALLISTA. This ATENISTA does not and will not like you, ever. It's just too bad that you wear a green shirt on your back. She just sees you as, I don't know nor am I ultimately sure, someone not worthy of an ATENISTA.

To my mind, this LASALLISTA character the ARCHER-HATER is ranting about is as disturbing as the ARCHER-HATER herself. What kind of creep would ask if the Ateneo-La Salle thing will always be an issue? I think I've heard that one before. Oh, yes. In Pinoy Big Brother…TEEN EDITION! Say it with me…JUVENILE!!

All of a sudden, the topic shifts from the LASALLISTA PROSPECT GUY to the DLSU PEP SQUAD:

ARCHER HATER: …[I heard] Okay na ang pyramids nila…finally ba nag-improve na? For the longest time... [insert more incomprehensible talk]

Well, I couldn't blame ARCHER HATER for this one. Nakakahiya naman talaga ang Pep Squad ng La Salle (cue La Salle spelling cheered as A-L-S-A-L-L-E). A very valid point. Hands down.

Apart from her distinctively annoying enunciation, I wasn't that pissed off. I was just amused on how she was confidently proclaiming all her LASALLISTA bashing over at our side of Starbucks, completely unknowing that a green back was actually eavesdropping on their conversation. Hehehe. It was nice to be undercover. Nice and hilarious.

STARBUCKS FIND #2: THE DANCER (MARIBETH BICHARA, ISDATCHU??)
When I was done listening in to ARCHER HATER's conversation, I went back to studying. But as I decided to stretch my arms first before finally going back to business, I turned my head to my left and noticed a very interesting character. Not only was he blowing his nose oh so loudly quite often, he was also engaged in a physical activity not considered as conventional Starbucks behavior.

Author's tips in watching the video: #1 watch for the snap of the head (00:29) #2 wait for matching hand movements (00:52). And, yeah, I would like to apologize for the orientation of the video. I was recording with my phone and I had to do it in a way the guy would not notice that I was taping him. I have no idea how to change the orientation and rotate it. Well, for that matter, here's tip #3: tilt your head to the right.

Can't control those dancing feet (or head or hands) much? He must've been listening to one damn good dance song! I was utterly distracted every time he made those sudden movements in his corner…pero SHOCKS!!! PANALO!!!

There. My trip back to Starbucks was like hitting two birds with one stone. I got to study (which is not that great, though) AND I got back on the people-watching track. The geek in me is very satisfied.