My wife is pregnant. Just found out about it several days ago. It would be our fourth child. Five if she’s going to have twins.
In the meantime, we are busy and strictly tightening our belts while making both ends meet. caEspecially since we have recently bought our own residential unit in Calambâ (my dream place). The house has two rooms and two storeys high. The unit we bought stands on one of the largest lots in the subdivision (ours is 112 sq. m.), thus we can build an extension of the house in the future. But right now, we have to pay at least P150,000 every year so that we’d be finished with all our house payments within seven years instead of 25.
It is therefore a necessity for me to augment my salary. I’ve been with my company for close to four years now (I signed up with them on 29 October 2004; now my co-employees reverently call me an “institution” of our company). It is there where I was promoted as a Spanish Speaking Agent when one of their accounts/departments opened up slots for Spanish speaking customer service representatives. I owe this place a lot. It’s my home away from home. Even though it’s now facing harsh criticisms from ex- and even current employees, I still remained loyal to it. There were times when I got into trouble, but everything was ironed out. It was weird. I can still remember the first time I stepped into this company’s building. I was then full of anxiety and nervousness since I just lost a job. I kept on praying to land a job because I have no one else to depend to but God. Also, prior to this, I had a penchant of not becoming a regular employee, and I was getting tired of it. Becoming a regular employee back then was one of my main objectives.
Upon entering the premises that cold and sunny October morning, I felt something strange yet familiar. A feeling of muted familiarity, of comfortability, struck me immediately. I didn’t know why. I went through several interviews and tests. And on the night of that same day, I signed a contract! I was then offered P13,000 plus P2,000 in allowances. I couldn’t contain my smile, and felt that my eyes were popping out. That amount back then (2004) was already huge and exciting for me and my wife. We only had two children, Krystal and Momay who was just born that year. We weren’t living with any relatives anymore. We were on our own, renting a small house in San Pedro, Laguna.
Right now, as I plan to leave, I’m earning P31,200 per month, plus P2,000 in allowances. Not enough anymore since our youngest, Jesús Felipe, “Jefe” arrived early last year. And we now need two maids since one can’t handle three playful kids. And even we call center agents are affected by this rice price increase. That’s the reason why, reluctantly, I have to leave this company no matter how much I’m fond of it. Even my amigo Arnold already left amid a financial and/or management crisis that is besetting this company.
Speaking of mi amigo, we are now working on our first book project! Yes! It’s every writer’s dream! To have a book published!
You know, whenever I visit bookstores and libraries, I always read the author’s profile with much interest, checking out their profiles, their writing and academic credentials. I bite my lip in jealousy. I say to myself, I have much more better ideas and stories and verses than some of them. So I think I myself have the right to be published.
And then I look at myself in the mirror. There’s a headset strapped onto my big head, and I’m starting to show baggy eyes. I’m thinning more and smell of second-hand smoke because of my chain-smoking co-employees.
I am just a call center agent. An owl. A vampire.
But I never stop dreaming.
One day, many weeks ago, I thought of an idea. I invited Arnold, a TL in our department and a fellow dreamer, to co-publish a book. I told him that we had to get published, or else as writers we will perish. His plan was actually to have a teaching position in the academe, which is a good idea as well. But that doesn’t suffice. I have a teacher in college who teaches and writes brilliant pieces of literature, Radney Ranario. But you won’t even find his name in web searches (until now, I think). Thus, book is a necessary avenue for us to reach a wider audience. Our blogs/websites are not enough. A book has much more prestige and style compared to a website. Oh may the trees of this country forgive me.
So he asked me how to do it. I told him that it would be a bit easy. The mayor of San Pedro is, incidentally, a good friend of my dad’s cousin. This uncle of mine, upon learning that me and my family moved to this town, referred me to this politician friend just in case I needed help. But I never really minded it. Until that day that I was looking outside the street from our apartment door.
Actually, we were actually already planning to move to another place because I ran into trouble several weeks before. It was past midnight, 12:30 to be exact because I was just looking at the time in my wife’s cellphone which I was then using. I was already walking outside our street towards the national road (Mahárlika Highway) going to Alabang where my office is located. Our place was deserted since everyone was asleep. But not this huge guy with a motorbike who stopped right beside me just to beat me up. He appeared either drunk or wasted by crack. I froze right in my tracks when he got off his motorbike, with a maniacal look in his eyes. He asked me why I kept on looking at him. Obviously, he was looking for trouble. He found the wrong guy in me. I was simply rushing towards my office, fearing a corrective action formfor tardiness from TL JJ. Now that fear has been transferred to this guy who may have an intent to draw blood. I told him I wasn’t looking at him, I don’t know him, and that I was just going to my work.
Just as I was about to leave him, his left hand grabbed the neck of my shirt and gave me a big windmill right which I immediately parried. He hit me a bit on my left ear. And all his successive punches hit nothing but my parrying left arm. And while he was doing this, I was screaming at him to stop (¡Teka lang! ¡Teka lang! ¡Walá acóng casalanan sa’yó!). But thanks to God, I still have my presence of mind. I have in my pants’ back pocket a mean-looking wooden knuckle that was given to me two years ago by Lee, a former co-employee and bandmate, as a remembrance (he was about to leave our call center for another). I thanked him, thinking that it may come in handy in the future, although I was always hoping that I will not be entangled in any violent scenario. For all my hidden rage and short temper, I am actually a pacifist.
But the inevitable happened. This huge crackpot was looking for trouble. And he got what he wanted, and more. My right fist was able to wear the wooden knuckles (made of molave, I think) while blocking his barrage of wild punches. I then landed a huge right onto his left cheek. He felt it good, I thought I even saw stars around his corrupted head. But he still had a grip on my shirt. I landed another — it hit his face again, but he was starting to fall. The third time was the charm: he fell to his knees and let go of my shirt. I landed a barrage of wooden knuckle punches on his head, face, and nape that even Count von Count of Sesame Street would have lost count! If not for a motorbike or two which was then arriving to aid him, I would have certainly killed the guy. I sprinted to the nearest esquinita (Castassus street), the fastest run I’ve ever done in my whole life! I ran so fast that I even arrived on time!
This crime happened just a few feet from the chapel of St. Vincent Ferrer (our barangay was named after him). Thus, I attributed that victorious night to San Vicente’s intervention.
Days later, I learned from a relative and neighbors that that freako has already been accused of murder and has beaten up a couple of people already. The asshole lives in nearby Barangay Laguerta, notorious for its drug-trafficking. That struck fear in my heart. Not that I fear for myself, but for my family. Me and my wife both work the night shift. We leave our three children to their yaya Cel (right now, we only have one maid; cailañgan pa namin ng isá, cayá pahiñguí namán – bacá may irereto cayó para sa amin).
My only consolation is that I’m positive that he didn’t recognize my face because he was obviously high that night. And I change my features from time to time; you can check out my Friendster which will be divulged in this website in the future.
Therefore, we decided not to leave. It’s not that easy to transfer from one place to another. I mean to say, we just moved to our new apartment from another street just last December 8. And if you don’t know yet, we have already lived in several places already we’re already fed up with moving. Might as well wait until we’re done with the equity. Hopefully by next year, we will be able to move to our new — and our very own — home. Me and my wife just agreed for me not to walk from our apartment towards our highway. I’ll just hail a tricycle or jeep in front of our apartment building no matter how walkable our place is from the main road.
My friends in our office have advised me to move. I told Arnold not yet. I think there’s still a purpose for my stay in San Pedro. I explained to him that we can publish a history book about my town! I’ve been living in San Pedro since May 10, 2004. And Arnold has bought a residential unit in San Pedro. I’m moving out, he’s moving in. But San Pedro’s in the heart (my apologies to the great Carlos Bulosan). I told him of my connection: my Tío Monching! And so Arnold was convinced, and the rest is, well, history.
I looked for Tío Monching’s phone number using Friendster. I asked some of my relatives. Upon getting hold of the number, I immediately contacted him. And I was so happy to learn that he’s always with the Mayor! He instructed me on whom to talk with, and so after a couple of days of SMS exchanges, on the morning of August 29 (after my shift) Arnold and I had a date with destiny. We met at San Pedro Apóstol Parish Church that morning. I asked him if he was ready. We both were. And so we marched towards the crowded and busy municipal hall.
When we got to the receiving room prior to the mayor’s huge office, there appears to be a mass civil wedding going on. I immediately looked for a certain Óscar Ramírez. Tío Monching said that Mr. Ramírez is the man who’ll bring us directly to the mayor. Unfortunately, we learned from some people there that he was at the hospital at that time, attending to a sick family member.
We were about to go home, seeing that it’s impossible to even seek an audience with the mayor. There were so many people who were queueing his office to discuss far more important matters compared to ours. There were guards all over the place. There’s no easy access to get to the mayor. We were just staying at the receiving area, looking through the glass panels to catch a glimpse of the busy politician inside his huge office. Arnold invited me to leave by 10:00 AM if still nothing happened. I almost agreed, but I told him that it’s now or never. If we never get to talk to the mayor that day, then I don’t think we’d be able to get to talk to him anymore. He’s our only ticket for us to get published.
Me and Arnold, as you all know, are not renowned writers. With our separate blogs, we may be known to some people who are interested in Philippine history. But like what I wrote above, a book holds much prestige. And authority. We are not history nor literature majors. We are virtual unknowns, dilettantes, amateurs. But one things for sure: we do know how to write, and we’re damn sure of what we’re writing about. It’s just that we’re not given opportunities make our thoughts known in printed form. So this San Pedro book we’re babbling about is the key.
And then I saw this young man who looks exactly like the Mayor. I assumed that his Mayor’s son (later on, from Tío Monching, I learned that he is, and his name’s Aaron) since he’s got free access to the door of his office. Labás-masoc siyá. I gathered enough confidence and walked to him, since it appears that he’s quite approachable. And he was. I presented myself to him, and he does know my uncle, but he told me and Arnold that it might be impossible for us to get an audience with the mayor because it was really a busy day. There were countless people in the lobby, in the office. I didn’t imagine a mayor’s office to be that crowded with so many people in need of his assistance. But the son was accomodating. He said that we could actually make a presentation at their house. Me and Arnold weren’t sure if we should say yes — it was an invitation to their house. Since we didn’t have a ready answer, and that some people kept on approaching him, too (he was busy like his dad; everyone in that place was busy), he just recommended us to the City Administrator’s office (Tío Monching said that he’s a brother-in-law of the mayor, a silent and chiflado/suplado type of guy). We got to his office, waited for our turn for us to talk to him (his office was very busy, as well; I expected them to be busy, of course, but not super busy!).
When we got hold of his attention, he brought us a bad news: there is already a book about the history of San Pedro. He said it was written by Larry Ordoña, one of their consultants for the municipality’s cultural affairs. We were disheartened, but we got our spirits back to hear that it was written in Tagálog. We said that we plan to write something in English, and that it would certainly be more comprehensive and detailed since I speak Spanish. We’d be able to get more info from the National Archives of the Philippines, wherein more than 13 million historical documents are written in Spanish.
We were so bold and confident. This is because a few weeks prior to our San Pedro municipal hall visit, we visited Muntinlupà City’s Public Library. We got hold of a very recently published book regarding the history of Muntinlupà. But we were amused to find out that the book seemed more like a public relations tool of one its former mayors. We were thinking the same about this San Pedro history book that the City Administrator told us. But in the end, he consented with our request for an official letter, with the municipio’s letterhead, allowing us to freely visit related departments in connection to our research purposes. But he suggested that we talk to Larry Ordoña as well to avoid conflict of ideas since it was Ordoña who wrote about San Pedro’s history first.
We waited for the letter for around half an hour while watching the City Administrator mediate between two feuding groups of public utility drivers. Afterwards, we were handed the letter and was asked to give it to someone at the mayor’s office to be signed by the mayor himself.
While waiting for the “golden signature,” Arnold was hoping that the mayor would see my last name. But I told him that it’s unlikely since he might just sign the official paper without reading much of it, let alone our names.
A few minutes later, we were shocked when we were invited inside!
At long last, we got an audience with Mayor Calixto Catáquiz, a longtime mayor of San Pedro during the latter half of the 80s throughout the first half of the 90s, and is a former Laguna Lake Development Authority chairman. We asked to seek his kind office the permission, support, and blessing to write about the history of San Pedro (de Tunasán during the Spanish times), La Laguna. But we were surprised when he whispered to us that he’s been looking around for a writer or two to write his biography!
We requested to write just one book. But it appears that we’re going to write two: we couldn’t contain the joy in our faces. I whispered to Arnold: “God is good!”
He then invited us to lunch. He just signed a few more papers, talked to a couple of more people, and then we were whisked away together with the mayor by his bodyguards to a secret passage to his car! And then we went off to Yellow Cab pizza along South Luzón Tollway in nearby Santa Rosa, at the Caltex station (owned by his friend, Ms. Adelaida Ponce de Yatco, a mother of a Viñáng político). During the car trip there, we started interviewing him, using a tape recorder his son Aaron lent us earlier.
And there at Yellow Cab we discussed the plans for his upcoming book. It appears that we have to write his biopic first since he wants it launched this coming February, in time for the town’s fiesta.
Man, this life is incredible! But so much to do, so little time… I haven’t even mentioned here that I’m going to take up review classes for the Diploma Español como Lengua Extranjera exam this coming November.
So this is perhaps the most stressful event of my young life. But I’m enjoying it!
