drink while you work

Contrary to what some of you might have surmised, I am not closing down this blog. No way. And I didn't die of cancer of the toenails or anything as dramatic as that. I'm very much alive, thank you very much. Work just got in the way. You know how it goes: you quit your job, find a new one, go through all that adjustment shit and you get so busy you finally forget about the stuff that once kept you alive. Well, I didn't actually forget it. I just, sort of, like, well, yeah OK, maybe I did forget about it. I've been so engrossed with the new job that I didn't, couldn't possibly keep log of my exploits, much less keep my lanky body in bed for more than five hours every night—or morning (god, my circadian rhythm is so screwed up already I don't know if it is day or night).

After two months of silence, I'm coming back from my hibernation. Not wiser, not better. Just a bit less sober. I should have my blood tested for alcohol content. Or rather, I should have my alcohol tested for blood content.

I won't be coming up with any Coehlhean crap about my long absence. No words of wisdom either. I was just, well, absent. And in my absence, I didn't write anything. And that's that. End of story.

I've acquired some new habits, though. Like drinking beer while having breakfast, which, one time caused me to accidentally sprinkle brown sugar instead of pepper into my bowl of lugaw (rice porridge). The damned thing looked so much like pepper, for crying out loud. They should label their condiments properly or else some customer would one day sue them for condiment misrepresentation or something. Stupid restaurant.

There were also times when I would sip red wine while at work. Believe me, in my line of work, having a little alcohol in your system helps you do your job better. And management's lenient on this. When our CEO came over from our main office in Europe last December to see how operations were running here, he walked around the place carrying a beer and sporting a dorky Santa hat. Shortly after, all administrative personnel, including our big boss, followed suit. They all started wearing Santa hats everyday until our Christmas break. One look at them and I knew that this is THE company!

Just imagine the reaction of applicants, all dressed to the nines for their interviews, as they enter our office and are greeted with two huge plastic King Kong fists that growl when punched and a stuffed Mickey Mouse with his right hand in his briefs, fondling his crotch.
The fridge in the pantry is teeming with bottles of beer, Sol de Chile, Absolut vodka, flavored lambanog (local wine that kicks ass) and, on lucky days, even Jägermeister. Even the carpet is stained with dried up wine (and Buddha knows what else), remnants of wild office parties whose highlights were animated discussions on sexual perversities.

With a very young workforce (our CEO's only 31 years old and our country manager is two years younger than I am), the company is understandably given to drunken celebrations at the least provocation.

What's good about it is that these people know how to draw the line. Business is still business. The company may seem one whole big party but when the work shift starts grinding, everyone means business. In fact, one employee, who was hired two weeks after I had gotten in, has just recently been fired because of poor performance. Which caused paranoia levels to soar, especially among new recruits like me.

On that fateful day, the clueless guy reported for work only to find that his schedule for the day had already been wiped clean. Then the manager called him to the conference room to give him the axe. He requested if he could stay for a few hours just so he could clear his desk but the boss said it would not be a wise idea. He had to leave immediately. Minutes after he went out of the execution, er, conference room, his proximity ID was already deactivated and could no longer be read by the door scanner. Thus, he had to stand there and wait for another employee to tap her ID onto the proximity scanner and open the electromagnetic locks for him. When he finally got to his workstation, he just took his stuff and left. No weepy farewells.

That's a bit harsh, I know. But it's part of the contract. That's why I'm thinking of other options now, just in case I get axed, too. I don't really mind getting fired. But I've started to love this job already. I may not have found friends here yet (I'm a natural snob) but I do love it here. It's such a small company and everyone does not seem to have egos at all. Everyone has their own eccentricities and nobody seems to give a hoot about it. For a weirdo like me, that's quite an ideal workplace.

Also, the big bosses sneer at hierarchical shit. They all make you feel that you are at the same level with them. But once you screw up, well, you pretty much know where your ass will end up.
So, while I try to adjust to this new job, I'm always on my toes, always on the lookout for the looming axe. But I'll just enjoy this while it lasts. I can't see the fun in getting anxious over something that might not even happen at all. I'd just surf the waves and see where the tides will bring me.

This blog is now officially alive again. I just don't when the next entry will be.

Thanks for all your greetings, comments, messages, and violent reactions. I've missed you all. God, I'm starting to sound like some phoney actor receiving an Oscar.

This crappy post will do for now.

Ciao!