KnackeRed

I just learned this term and it makes my mother-in-law laugh when I say it, probably when the "r" is emphatically pronounced. But this is the word that best describes how I am at this very minute. I've been working 10 hours a day this week, including today (supposedly), but I had to call my boss because I just can't concentrate anymore. Keeping two part-time jobs at once is too much now and I'm so glad my afternoon job is finishing end of this month. I 've handed my resignation letter but I don't know yet when my exit interview would be.

Next month, I would be concentrating on a job which, interestingly, I found quite enjoyable. I love books, research, and all paperworks that go with it. However, some people assume that we know everything. Somebody popped in at work one day and asked me unceremoniously: When was hippy school founded? Sorry? Hippy school. I typed on the computer, h.i.p.p.y.s.c.h.o.o.l. The screen displayed: 0 search results found.

How do you spell that, sir? H.I.P.P.E.R.

Ahh, Hipper School.

I'm so knackered!

I'm white but not british

I was on my seat, relaxed, ready to take on my work-load of the day and whatever the public I'm serving would throw at me. Sure enough, an old gentleman (as opposed to a gentle old man) came, literally threw at me some stuff he wasn't sure of. When I declared what it was, and how much, after checking my screen, he exclaimed, contempt on his face, "Ah! so you learned the language, eh?"

In circumstances like this, I try to think of my Employee Handbook (which I can't remember ever perusing) and other people around who may have heared the remark and who could be affected by my reaction. But as instinct would have it, I smiled and ignored what the old man said and focused instead to his...hm, age! Yes, he's old and should know better to be lambasting racist slurs, but then again, he might have had a terrible experience with "foreigners" or might have gone to some concentration camps in the service of the crown. Or he might just be reading too much Daily Mail.

On the other hand, westerners in Surigao are most of the time heckled and greeted with "Hi, Joe!" as if all white men in the world are Americans. It is a remnant of the years when the Kano (american) soldiers were all over the islands establishing and maintaining their naval bases while impregnating some willing virgins at the same time. When K stayed in Surigao for 3 years, this greeting irritated him. Three years and they still called him Joe!

In Chesterfield I am a foreigner, in Surigao, K was. Now we're even.

Work Party

No, there's NO rice at all. Of course there's no lechon! No sweetened spaghetti; no 7-Up or Royal Tru-orange; no sawsawan.

I was hungry after the party.

Snow

This morning, we woke up with the world blanketed in white. Zak exclaimed, "Oh dear, dear, dear!" when he saw the cars covered in snow. It was the first time I've seen the sky feeling the same way as the earth: cold, dull, white, expansive, but romantic. No wonder England has Byron, Shelley, Wordsworth, Tennyson, Shakespeare, to name but a few. Who wouldn't be poetic in this variable weather? Just yesterday, I soaked up the sun on my way to work, a bit disappointed that the much-hyped snow would still be in Siberia. But then this morning's surprise brought on vivid images from scenes of While You Were Sleeping. From our window, I watched the people on the streets walking about like it was usual for them to trudge on snow every morning, to feel the snowflakes in their faces, to see their breath. It was magic. But in the same vein, I thought of Surigao and how hot I must have been if I was there at this hour. But then again, Wordsworth's To a Snowdrop resounds rather optimistically- "Chaste Snowdrop, venturous harbinger of Spring..."

But no, not yet! I am enjoying this winter time, bisan nakalimot na ko nan baho nan ako huyas. It doesn't sound healthy, but I had almost three decades of the sun to myself I want to enjoy every minute of this season.

Do I look really that bad

...and scary or is it something else?

I've just transferred to another department in the company where I've been working since last year. Apart from my new part-time job which I like very much, this new (to me) department is a bit odd. For one, there are three managers and I haven't met any of them although I know who they are. I don't know which of the three is my line manager as their functions are the same. They just have different office hours and I can't figure out who is in when I am on. Confusing. I managed to find my way around the job by instinct and through bits of querries from colleagues who apparently just decided to just think of themselves as their own bosses. When I mentioned that I haven't signed a contract yet since I transferred to this new department, somebody helpfully remarked that I shouldn't worry as I would see the contract within a year, knowing how the managers do their job rather efficiently.

Since I start work in the afternoons, it's always unnerving to walk in, fresh and energetic, to see tired eyes which can barely glance at my direction. Or is it just their sense of foreboding when they see me? I don't know them yet, except their first names, but it feels strange to be new and different. They've seen me around for quite a while before I started working with them and I might have sat with them during our Christmas Party, I can't remember, but honestly, to be spoken to in a rather slow manner like I'm deaf or can't understand English is bizzare and a bit irritating.

At the staff canteen, I sometimes sit with the United Nations, that is, with colleagues from different countries: one is Dutch, there is also the chatty Portuguese who can speak 5 languages, an African, and a Cypriot. I don't know if the UN share the same sentiments because we didn't discuss this but speaking for myself, it's quite nice and spooky when treated REALLY nicely, with utter respect, by my colleagues. This is something I want to investigate at work. Was there ever a racist incident in this company? Do these people in this particular department suffer from agoraphobia, or better yet, asianophobia? Are they just very careful because they don't know how to deal with an Asian woman like me? Do I look that harsh to them that they're worried I would explode in their presence? Do I look like a walking time-bomb or just a stupid bore?

One time, after working late in the afternoon, I was in the backroom putting on my coat when a senior staff walked in. She didn't see me but somebody else in the room did. She asked, "Is everybody gone? Where's that one from China?" The other colleague replied, "You mean Z? She's still here. Are you from China Z?" I said, "I don't even look Chinese!"

The senior staff was visibly embarrassed that she apologized to the mirror. "Oh, sorry about that." I didn't expect her to apologize to me but to talk about me like I haven't worked with them for quite a time and hearing a remark like that from a senior staff herself really miffed me. I didn't say anything after that. I left the building very upset and told K about it. The next day, this rude senior staff was soooo nice to me, then she asked if I could take charge of a section in the department.

Caught Again

When the engagement (or was it just announcement of an impending marriage) of Prince Charles and Camilla was all over the news, it set me thinking.

So I asked my intelligent, news-hooked husband. Do you think there is someone in Britain who doesn't know Prince Charles?

K: Charles who?