There’s something about this company’s HR Department that never fails to bug me.

Scratch that. The right word isn’t “bug”. The word “bug” somehow brings to mind the image of a button-cute little girl, nonchalantly and precociously asking her parents for sweets. Let me rephrase my opening statement.

There’s something about this company’s HR Department that makes me want to rip their heads off with my bare hands and feed them to the stray cats that meow constantly outside my house.

That’s better.

At the very least, it accurately describes what I feel each time I have to deal with the semi-developed beings that populate the HR department. And it’s not just me having a bad day and blaming it on everyone I meet (though that has happened before). I’ve been here for more than two years and not once — once! — has HR ever gotten anything right the first time.

To think that their entire department exists solely to handle all the concerns of the employees. Sweet merciful God with a rather lousy sense of humor — why? Why are we left at the mercy of these boorish, lazy and red-tape bound individuals? Why?

For the duration of my employment in this company, I have suffered random abuse at the hands of those who were supposed to handle my affairs efficiently. To wit:

• Did not receive my HMO card;
• Got branded a bitch when I semi-complained about the aforementioned card.
• Applied for a change of status in my TIN data;
• Waited for weeks;
• Received e-mail from HR, stating that I got the wrong form (translation: they gave me the wrong form);
• Filled-up new form;
• Waited for weeks;
• And weeks;
• Followed-up twice, only to learn that nothing was done since I had to submit the form to the Bureau of Internal Revenue personally — something I was not informed of previously.
• Did not receive my father’s HMO card (as dependent);
• Told to fill up form and wait;
• Waited a month;
• Received e-mail from HR, asking me to claim my father’s card;
• Visited HR, only to find out that not only is the card not available, my parents’ names were changed to Jimmy and Anita for no good and explainable reason;
• Asked to fill up another form.

At that point, I mentally screamed “screw you” at the absent-minded HR guy. I’m just sick of dealing with such sloppiness. And they’re not the friendliest of people, too. Considering that their job requires dealing with tons of people at every turn, you’d think that they’d at least be polite and eloquent, but NO. Apart from that, they take two and a half hour lunch breaks plus smoke breaks, coffee breaks, “go out and be gay” breaks — whatever.

Maybe I should stock up on body bags for good measure.

Di ba pag ikaw ang humihingi ng pabor, dapat magalang ka at hindi demanding? Di ba? Di ba?

Ayokong maging petty pero naiirita ako, lalo na at bawal akong magsalita dahil wala naman akong masasabing matino.

Basta.

Masama ang ugali mo at hindi ako natutuwa sa yo.

Pero huwag kang mag-alala dahil hindi ako gaganti.

Hindi ako gaganti dahil wala akong maisip na paraan para makabawi sa yo nang hindi dumadanak ang dugo at mawalan ako ng trabaho.

I’m super, super tired.

I’m really, really flat out incapable of going on anymore. I always get myself into situations like these, where I take on freelance projects I can’t really fit into my schedule. The call of money is just too powerful, I guess, that I chuck common sense and self-preservation to the wind.

Whatever. I’ll find a way to get this done. Brain cells be damned!

I tried Paypal for the first time today and well, I’m not sure how I feel about it.

I had to take the jump somehow. There was some money coming in (for some writing stuff) and the client was sort of excited to pay me already. He needed an answer, I didn’t have anything else but Paypal. So, Paypal it is.

When I first heard that Paypal was finally here I was so happy thinking that finally I could go for those outsourced projects online. Postings like that are like a dime a dozen, and you know I’m always on the lookout for possible moolah-makers, so I got interested.

I didn’t go for it immediately, though, since I’m always apprehensive about everything. I don’t do things I can’t guarantee, mainly because I’m paranoid and borderline insane. I won’t be able to sleep at night, thinking some faceless web entity’s got my credit card details. Yeah, I’ve read 1984 one too many times.

Anyway, I signed up a month ago, mostly because it was free (I like free stuff — I’m shameless) and I didn’t think I had anything to lose. I didn’t verify the account, though, because I didn’t want to give said faceless web entity my credit card number. I didn’t think I’d be using it anytime soon, too, so that was that.

Today, though, I needed an account to close the deal. So, I finally took the jump and had the client send the payment through Paypal. Realistically speaking, it’s not too big a jump, really, since I still didn’t verify my account. Yes, I’m that paranoid.

So now faceless web entity has my money, and I’m slightly terrified that someone, let’s say PCGG, will suddenly swoop down on my Paypal account and declare my few bucks “ill-gotten” assets.

I’m not too happy about the fees, too, which I would have known about beforehand if I had been awake enough to read the Terms of Agreement. If I did I wouldn’t have been nearly shocked out of my chair and into a coma. They’re steep, those fees, and I feel sort of bad. From what I gathered, though, there’s no better and less expensive way to transact with clients abroad right now than Paypal.

So I’m officially a Paypal user now (just upgraded to Premier a while ago — because it’s free, darling), and I’m sort of excited. Now I feel like I should go and bid on every project on GetaFreelancer because I’ve got Paypal.

Not logical. I know.

I’m not earning much, by the way, since this is the first try, but I’m sort of happy. Despite the stupid fees I feel like I’m on the verge of something great — and highly lucrative. I’m grinning like an idiot at the prospect.

By the way, this isn’t a paid advertisement or whatever, I swear to God on my beloved life. I don’t have the stamina for that sort of quackery. I’ve seen some of these post-for-hire shit and, well, to be rather straight about it, they suck. Suck! I know people make money from this crap and whatnot, but it’s stupid, it’s not writing and it’s crap.

You don’t need half a brain to crunch out the things I’ve seen written on those blogs.

Anyway, if you are interested in selling yourself, too, you might want to go here.

So a few days ago, I found out that it’s possible to make a living from blogging.

I was ecstatic, of course, seeing how I could make money off something I actually enjoy doing. And as everyone knows (or do they?), earning a few more bucks is something I need right now. Anyway, I though naively that it would be so easy to have a website up and running, with a focused blog that would get the attention of people and earn revenue through ads.

I have no intentions of selling out this blog (except for google adsense, maybe, if they want me, but none of the paid-to-blog-about-this-shit shtick), because primarily this is the only means by which I blow off tremendous amounts of steam, enough to send three steamboats around the world. I can’t be a paid hack in my personal blog, you know. It’s just principle, man.

So I thought about making up some other blog, one that would talk about little else but a particular topic. I was excited and happy, not realizing just how difficult it would be to create and write something that would have people interested. I declare it now: it is completely whorish to write solely for the purpose of hooking people in.

Now I am seldom morally squeamish. I would throw my principles and values to the wind when necessary. I can’t, however, insult the one thing that God has so graciously given to me. I realized, after a few fake and half-hearted entries, that I’m not going to survive as a blog whore.

I’m not knocking the people who actually make a living out of this stuff. A lot of them actually are interested in what they write, and it’s the reason why a lot of people appreciate their work and patronize their sites. They’ve earned it.

I, on the other hand, am interested in the topic of my said site, but the way I keep thinking about how interesting it’s gonna be to people is just so fake and pathetic. I’m not even going to link to that site because I’m just not proud of it.

I think PnE says it best:

kapag pinilit mo,
hindi na totoo,
ang awit na natapos mo,
ay mawawalan ng tono

Oh the depths to which I have fallen.

Ahhh… the corporate life: so horrible just a few snatches of fleeting happiness can cause tears of joy to well up in my eyes. A Christmas hamper, ladies and gentlemen.

Oh the depths to which I have fallen.

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I’m not sure if the thought has really been processed in this convoluted brain of mine, but right now I’m in the midst of changes I rather don’t appreciate.

First, my friend Diane is leaving on the 24th for Qatar. She’d been waiting for her visa several months now, and I guess I sort of started thinking she wouldn’t really leave at all. But now she is, and I think I’m in shock.

More shocking, though, is news #2. My high school best bud Gen is getting engaged this December. I didn’t even know she had a boyfriend, whom she met just May this year, by the way. I remember us being stupid kids in ugly brown uniforms, and her penchant for eating the baon I didn’t like.

And now, well, I see she’s fallen victim to the usual kai shao trap.

Yep, things are a-changing, and I pretty much can’t do anything about it.

I sort of think my first attempt at actually teaching was a flop.

So I had this teaching demo at Reedley the other day, with my high school classmate grading me, no less. We weren’t particularly close in high school, but, if I remember correctly, we were sort of okay. She looked like she’d mellowed a bit, by the way, as I remember her being a bit on the brash side in high school.

Not really the point, though, so forgive the rambling.

It turns out I need a freaking license to teach, which I can’t because I’m not Filipino. It’s the same reason I can’t be a doctor (which was the initial plan) and I can’t be a diplomat.

It’s more than a bit discouraging, because I was really psyched to finally teach. Granted, the salary leaves much to be desired, but I really did think that this could’ve been my chance.

I’ve been trying to teach at UST for the longest time; it’s the reason why I’m taking my Masters, by the way. I can’t wait to face a roomful of hostile teenagers hell-bent on laughing at my pronunciation or my clothes or my hair. I want to teach, and that’s that.

But I can’t.

Maybe Mick was right. You can’t always get what you want.

Then again: If you try sometimes, you just might find, you get what you need.

What I need, though, is a freaking school that doesn’t require a teaching license. And maybe some alcohol to calm me down.