PRESS THE PANIC (ATTACK) BUTTON
I’m terrified. Tomorrow’s Monday, the beginning of the Apocalypse. I have one major deadline and a matching case of procrastination. I am only a third through the deliverable, and there are acres of numbers still to plow. Thinking about it, today, tonight on Sunday, propels me into tomorrow. It’s as if I’m already there – face to face with Goddess, probably being told to pack away my things into a carton box. Too bad my boss says I’m up for promotion this month.
I am
this close to slipping.
What to do?
In terms of desperation, follow what Ally Mcbeal’s psychiatrist recommends – sing a theme song. Not the mushy love-gone-sour crap, instead, something bouncy and lively and optimistic. This theme song comes to mind, “I’m sii - nging in the rain. Just sing- ing in the rain. What a glorious feeling, I’m haaa - ppy again…”
Actually, it wasn’t raining a while ago. And now it’s starting to. I don’t get it. I used to sing in a choir.
I try to read. I pick up an Austen, and then halfway through the page I switch books and start on the new anthology I got from a friend. Can’t concentrate. I decide I’d be calmer if I gloss over Melissa Bank’s
The Girl’s Guide to Fishing and Hunting (or is it
Hunting and Fishing?), but then remember I left it in the car. I am too unnerved and lazy to get out and look.
Helen Fielding mentioned a Martin Amis character who was so addicted to smoking -- he was already lighting the next cigarette after he had just popped a live one in his mouth. I am that Martin Amis character, but instead of cigs, it’s books and lots of attention.
Have noticed the paragraphs above are infested with the word “I.” I this I that. There are too many. From now on, “I” shall be substituted with the word “Eech” to make me appear less egocentric. The words “me” and “mine” will also be changed to the word “eech.” So the sentence before this one should have read “’Eech’ to make ‘eech’ appear less egocentric.”
Eech am not making any sense. Song again.
“Eech sii - nging in the rain. Just sing - ing in the rain. What a glorious feeling, eech happy again…” Eech try to complete the whole song but find eechself looping back to the chorus like a pirated CD.
If eech try not to move then tomorrow, the terrifying Monday, might not come for eech. It might not notice eech and move on to Wednesday afternoon where it’s officially Christmas vacation and therefore legally allowed to not work while in the office.
Oh God oh God oh God Help help help… Please help eech…
DECEMBER DOUBLE FEATURE
No, I haven’t been fired yet. Welcome back to the Office.
Artista AlertIt was the Thursday I decided to wear blue socks to clash with my brown uniform (my pathetic attempt at rebellion). Little shrieks and gasps were reproducing in the entrance hallway, fifteen yards away from my cube. When you’ve worked for so long on the Marketing floor, you could tell that a celebrity was in the vicinity even without looking. I slid my chair out from the cube, peered into the hallway, and saw star-struck employees posing with young actress A.P. in front of camera phones. Right-o. Now back to work.
I should have shown a bit more interest --AP’s face will be printed on the brochure I’ve been working on. And besides, her “misunderstanding” with two Pinoy Big Brother housemates was making the rounds on The Buzz. I should have checked whether she was worth all the fuss.
It’s just that I’ve seen her image too many times during the last few weeks. As the assigned planner, the colorproofs of the brochure were routed to me thrice for checking. I remember seeing the initial layout, the untouched shots that were freshly plucked from camera. I studied critically the face that would be gracing my brochure’s cover; to my delight and awe, found her skin flawless. Perfect.
Except, probably, her teeth. It was unevenly stained yellow and contrasted too much with her white skin. I took out my blue marking pen, encircled her mouth, and wrote “Fix color.”
The second and third proofs were better, and looked more commercial, very aspirational. The Office’s Creatives were first-rate “image enhancers”; I believe they’re underpaid with the amount of make-overs they do. But they have their limits – one time they complained they couldn’t keep up with LS’s (another celebrity endorser) increasing wrinkles, and asked if we can get another star to front the make-up category. Management agreed. Unfortunately after letting LS go, we haven’t found the ideal endorser yet.
I was back to churning numbers when my boss swung my chair around and said the words “Pictorial,
dali!” The other planners were scampering, doing touch-ups and then racing out into the end of the hallway where AP was. Might as well join the bandwagon. I managed to powder face and adjust shawl while sprinting, and made it just before the photographer was setting his camera.
Wow, she’s really pretty. And thin. Thinner. Thinner than what I imagined. Her shots on the brochure were so tight it I thought we had the same face width. Hah,
illusyonada. She was gracious and accommodating, but still too shy to be a star.
The planning group settled into position with her in the middle. The girls and I were doing our best not to giggle; it seemed so very glamorous posing (or so very
jologs) posing with an actress. Just when the photographer signals us to smile, I happened to catch AP’s toothy showbiz grin. The uneven yellow stain was real, the result of her addiction to cigarettes which started in her teenage years, something I found out later. My fingers itch to grab the assistant’s pen next to me and circle AP’s mouth – “Fix smile.” But I had to turn my head into the viewfinder before the camera clicked.
Foot, Leg, and Arm in MouthLet’s play a game. Guess what happens in this scenario – toilet cubicles, a verbally incontinent employee, two concerned junior brand managers (BMs), and a young female actress.
Got it?
Try to match it with what actually happened.
Fanny (
read about Fanny and flatulence) suffers also from verbal diarrhea. Whatever pops into her head shoots out of her mouth unprocessed. She’s a budding Kris Aquino – rich girl,
babaeng bakla, highly annoying. I stay away from her when she’s doing the
babaeng bakla bit during coffee. She’s just too loud she can bust my eardrums.
Anyway, Fanny was doing Number Two in the office toilet cubicle, right after the group shoot with AP the young actress. Two BMs were outside making use of the mirror for their customary preening. Fanny’s brimming with excitement while on the throne, and as expected, was loudly declaring that she should be an
artista herself. “I’m a whole lot prettier than AP! I could actually be a star! I could even be… more famous than her!” Something to that effect.
In comes young actress to use the comfort room. The two BMs looked at each other worriedly. Fanny was still in there, thinking only three of them were in the CR. AP took the cubicle right next to Fanny’s…
“There’s so much money in endorsement deals that I can live off it without doing actual work!” Fanny gloated. “Well, I should really consider being
artista.”
One BM started to knock repeatedly on Fanny’s cubicle door, desperate to shut her up before she says anything stupid? derogatory? dangerous? But Fanny didn’t get that, instead she burst out of her cubicle and said, “
At bakit? Wala ba akong karapatan?!”
The BMs just couldn’t say “AP’s in the other cube, you maggot!” because AP’s still in there. Instead they say to our dear Fanny that the
Goddess (the marketing director) was inside. Fortunately that worked – Fanny kept quiet and started washing her hands.
Imagine the look on Fanny’s face, will you? can you? WHEN AP OPENED THE CUBICLE DOOR AND STEPPED OUT .
HA HA HA.
HA HA, HA HA HA.
Sweet, stellar revenge.
AP washed her hands on the sink right next to Fanny’s. She probably smiled into Fanny’s deathly white, blood-drained face in the mirror. And then she left.
HA HA HA.
HA HA, HA HA HA.
I can’t stop myself from laughing.
