After turning the whole flat upside-down I can now report with absolute certainty that there are no secret cigarettes anywhere.
A friend of mine from the Philippines visited about four months ago, bringing two reams of Marlboro Lights (soft pack!), which was promptly smoked in its entirety in a matter of two weeks.
And I’m not even kidding.
I meant to hide a pack or two for emergency purposes but I never got around to doing it. Still, I searched the apartment for my phantom ‘secret cigarettes’, just in case I’d really hid some and forgotten all about it.
Denial.
***
I never really earned tons of money during my professional career (LOL – professional career!) but I always liked the jobs I’d landed. My CV always impressed… well, myself.
1. Camiguin
After graduating from college I went to Camiguin with friends to teach Art to the children of Benoni, Camiguin. Organised by the dreaded Sister R, who was – aside from being a nun – a witch. We were joined by a French couple who introduced me to the music of Lhasa one hot May night. We slept in Benoni Elementary School, we drank boiling Coke, we had the beach in our backyard, we had our knickers stolen off the clothesline, we were verbally and sexually harassed by our ten-year old students (ah, the fear they put in us!), we were not paid, and it was, without doubt, the Best Time of my Life.
I don’t want to get sentimental and soppy, but only the people I shared the experience with can relate to what I’m saying. During this time, I found myself.
*cue violin, then rousing applause, then wiping of tears*
2. The Yellow Shit Store.
Because after Camiguin, spirits soaring high, I decided to succumb myself to the ultimate insult: To Be An Underpaid Overworked Underachiever (U.O.U). So I became the Store Artist for T—- R——. My job wasn’t so bad, even though my “office” was a tiny room in the bowels of Glorieta. Proper ventilation being the key to survival (because we worked with spray paints), we worked with gas masks. I shared the room with Finn my fellow-artist, the lead singer of the death metal band Resurrection. We emerged from the Art Room coughing and fanning our faces each time we finished a store display artwork. My best work-related memory was having the New Year shift till 8 in the evening and making my way home via MRT amidst SuperLolos and Sinturon ni Hudas(es? – plural). Felt like a Pink Floyd concert.
3. Tall Building With Lots of Mirrors
Now I shall move into the yuppie part of my work experience, GetAsia – a combination of literature, art, and informatiques. First of all, I got along really well with the artists, especially my art director, Mr. Marcus, who up until now remains one of my good friends. Second point, I loved my job. It was creative and challenging. To be paid to make art and surf the net via DSL wasn’t bad at all (surf! surf! surf!). My work description was JPEGing, HTMLing, FLASHing, and WRITing (bon, writing). Best work-related memory was one “overtime” evening where we played Fall From The Chair, where we sat on the chairs and tipped ourselves over to the floor. It hurt like hell but it was fun, wasn’t it, boys?
Special shoutouts to Junnie, Mari, Astrid and Marcus! Remember the very exciting fire drills?
4. Bummer
I spent 9 months as a freelance artist. I painted, I slept, I wrote a lot, I went to France, I hung out with friends, I smoked lots of pot, I went to exhibits, I helped set up exhibits, I painted, I slept, I wrote a lot, and over again. I had fun. Best work-related experience was every damn day.
6. Magazine
I was reunited once again with Job No. 2, under a different management. I was hired to create the layout of the first issue of a music magazine. I had to perform miracles – 50 pages in one month, missing articles, late articles, last-minute changes. It was a crash course in everything – layout, printing, pressure. But the magazine’s doing all right. Best work-related memory was smoking with Kerwin right under the No Smoking Sign. Hehehe.
7. This is a Hold-Up
Until one day I woke up and had no more money, and no projects were coming in. My next job was with INQ7 – the Inquirer website. There were no job openings, but I emailed the VP (Hi Leo!) and bullied him into interviewing me. Not very professional, I know, but I got an interview with Joey (who won a Palanca!), where we argued over the then-Amazing Race contestants Flo and Zach. I said Flo was a bitch. Joey said Flo was essential to the team and to the show. I said Flo was a bitch and that anyone who liked her was mad. What the fuck, right? But he hired me, and we’re good friends till now. And Joey, if you’re reading this, I still think Flo’s a bitch.
***
And then I come to France and they tell me they won’t consider my three fucking years of work experience, because that’s just how it works here.
Great.
