October 6, 2007

It’s really ridiculous how I get into this job. Honestly, it is way far from my degree. I’ll tell you. I graduated with a degree of Bachelor in Secondary Education major in Physics and Mathematics. Unfortunately, I loathe teaching. You can shout at me telling that it’s the noblest profession and I’ll tell you a different thing. I’ll tell you how some of these teachers suffer from loans and other debts! I’ll tell you how some of these teachers burn their midnight candles checking papers and making lesson plans. I’ll tell you how some of these teachers suffer from depression and anxiety whenever their students could not get a simple Algebra equation. I’ll tell you how some of these teachers suffer from sore throat after yelling at an earsplitting class. That, even if you throw all the chalks at their faces, these students will never listen and keep on gabbing. I’ll tell you how some of these teachers chat with other teachers leaving their students with seatworks. I’ll tell you how some of these teachers put up a sari-sari store inside the classroom. I’ll tell how some of these teachers give points to students who erase the writings on the board and those students who buy junk foods in their mini sari-sari stores. I am not trying to discriminate teachers. I am just telling you what I have observed from the very first day I was taught to read and write. I love teachers, especially those who really do their job. I love those teachers who really work hard and are really dedicated to their profession. I love those teachers who are fair and just. But, I just hate teaching. I did not even take the Licensure exam. My mom always tells me to take, but I refuse. Well, she can’t blame me. She was the one who enrolled me into this. Besides, I received good allowance (which I also gave to her) from the scholarship. So, I grabbed the opporunity. Well, though I did not like the course, I was a good student.

And because I didn’t have plans to teach, I applied in a call center a month before graduation. I was absent for a day in class because I had to take the exam for a customer service representative. Luckily, I accepted the job offer the same day and signed the contract. I had to work two days after my graduation. I was really expecting very good salary. Can you imagine? You just have to talk to these clients and sit in front of your PC for like eight hours or ten. After that, you’ll receive thousands in the middle and the end of the month. It sounded really cool the first time. But, when you get to work? Nah! Don’t make me remember! All those midnight coffees, accentuated English, dashing clothes, irate customers, so-much-money-so-little-time, sunrise beer, and oh, eyebags, made me quit. I looked hell, more like of a vampire. Well, nothing’s changed. Ha-ha! 😀

So, I looked for another job. I can’t afford to stick with the with ATM (ay ta ma) situation. I wanted to be independent. And so, here I go. Frankly, I did not think of getting involved into this writing and all. I know I wasn’t good at it. Give me Math problems, I’ll give you a solution. Let me find the flow rate of a liquid, I can give you answers. I can even prove to you that light can be heard. It’s pretty amazing, though, how these people convinced me to write. To tell you, I only write whenever I think of writing. I write when I feel happy. I put my sad feelings into words. I even remember when I grabbed a notebook and a pen, fell myself to bed writing, with all the tears when I felt really bad. But, writing is not really my forte. I know I can write a “the-quick-brown-fox-jumps-over-the-lazy-dog” kind of thing. Grammar? Ha-ha! What is that? Sentence construction? I think I lost my brain somewhere. Can you please hand it to me? And oh, the people I work with? They’re good. At least, they taught me how to write. I don’t think I’d remember, though. Did I tell you I do? Yes, I do. Well, I hope so. Ha-ha!

And oh, this blogging thing? Oh please. Don’t make me write every day! My mind would burst. I don’t want to die with a pen on the right hand and a notepad on the other. I’d swear you don’t want me writing you when I’m dead.