Reposted as: From a deleted blog: Bad Day at the Office, 6 February 2012 at 05:47
Originally Posted on a Blog titled something similar to Just What I Want.
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I like bad days at the office.
Don’t get me wrong. I don’t want bad days at the office in particular; I like what comes after. But I can’t just say "I want what comes after a bad day at the office" because it is that bad day that makes me understand how good things actually are.
Except… I’ll understand that after maybe a couple of days. But during that bad day, I’ll feel absolutely horrible.
May 28. Sunday.
Three minutes before I get off from work, I took a call from a certain Mr. Malone who was travelling on business for the weekend. I forgot his first name so let’s just call him Mr. Fucking Malone.
At first the call went smoothly, I tried to help him out with our item. For the purpose of concealing what that item really is, I will call it gadget.
I thought that call would be a three-minute call. But then, it became a five-minute call, then a ten-minute call, and then longer...
I needed to make a lot of fixes, research and escalations to get the problem resolved. In the end, I found out that one of the two people he talked to before I did made a huge fucking mistake. I had to fix the ‘software’ and replace his gadget.
That meant that his ‘software’ will work but he wouldn't be able to use the gadget that day or the next since it was a Memorial Day Monday and we can’t deliver his gadget until Tuesday.
Mr. Fucking Malone said he talked to two people who told him that he shouldn't have any problems with using his gadget. Because one of those two people made a huge fucking mistake and I don’t know her name, let’s call her fucking ‘Kristen.’ <Sorry to all the Kristens out there. I hope you are not her>
I told Mr. Fucking Malone there was a problem. I told him he couldn't use his gadget that day but that I will get a new one to him by Tuesday. I felt bad for him until he asked where I was from.
Mr Fucking Malone then said that I didn't know how to do my job because I was Filipino. He mentioned again that fucking ‘Kristen’ told him that his gadget was good to go. He said he can’t understand me. He said I didn't know how to speak in English. He shouted and cursed. He got my complete name and threatened to file a complaint.
I wasn't scared of the complaint. For the record, I do my job well. I always have. I have commendations and records to back me up on that. They can pull up the recording on that call and they would know I didn't do anything wrong. Hell, if they pull up the recording, they might even suggest I sue Mr. Fucking Malone for Oral Defamation.
I can speak straight English since I was in the fourth grade. I have many times been told over the phone that the person on the other line couldn't tell that English wasn't my first language.
So NO, I do not believe that after more than ten minutes into a conversation, I have all of a sudden developed an accent and became unintelligible.
No, I did not do anything wrong here. No, my being the person who told you the truth does not make me the person who made the mistake.
And no, Mr Fucking Malone, I am not an idiot. And my being a Filipino does not make me an idiot either.
I felt so bad last Sunday and I cried after work. It was a very horrible feeling to do the right thing, to tell the truth, to help someone out sincerely and to get insulted in return. I spent more than 30 minutes of unpaid overtime helping Mr. Fucking Malone out.
And yes, my intention to help was sincere. Because Mr. Fucking Malone didn't insult me in the beginning, he insulted me AFTER I helped him out. He told me I didn't know how to do my job after I fixed his account. He told me he couldn't understand my English after we've been talking for more than thirty minutes of my unpaid overtime.
I love my country and this person told me that I’m an idiot because I am in my country while I know that my country is one reason for my competence. It is one reason why I do not do bullshit on my job.
This is for you, Mr Malone.
If you are Mr. Fucking Malone, I want you to know this:
Dear Mr. Fucking Malone,
You are an asshole. You’re a monster. And no matter how rich or successful you become, you will always be unhappy and unlucky because you make people who help you out feel very horrible.
I couldn't tell you last Sunday because I didn't want to get a written warning from my manager and, because I know that you were also in a difficult situation, I didn't want to hurt you. But if you went online and searched for someone who calls you Mr Fucking Malone and tells you you’re an asshole, I guess you were asking for it.
I hate racism.
I particularly hate racism because it insults individual excellence. You’re like this because this is your nationality; you’re like that because this is your country. This is a stupid generalization. Nobody is defined by their nationality.
Sure, fucking ‘Kristen’ made a huge fucking mistake and lied about it to Mr Fucking Malone. Fucking ‘Kristen’ is Filipino but it doesn't mean all Filipinos will make that mistake. If one of us is an idiot, it doesn't make all of us idiots. If 1 million of us are idiots (and you have to count,) it doesn't mean all of us are idiots. There are billions of us.
If American Mr Fucking Malone can’t understand that, it doesn't mean all Americans can’t.
I don’t understand where this racism, this hate, is coming from but I have an idea.
The following is an open letter to all Americans who say: WE TOOK THEIR JOBS.
Dear asshole,
The stupidity of this claim is beyond me.
Took your jobs???!! Your guys brought jobs here. We didn’t ask them to.
American companies brought the jobs here because it takes so much to pay you to do something; a third of the salary of one of you guys is a high-paying job for us.
What did we do? We allowed them to bring the jobs here.
What would you have done? Now that employment is down in your country, if Germany proposed to introduce an industry that will give your people high-paying jobs, will you tell them to stay in Germany and give the jobs to Germans?
You want to be mad because the jobs are here? If you want to be mad at us, you can think about what I just said. If you want to be mad at the companies who take their businesses here, think about this: If a company can afford to pay one American for every 15 customers; and they have the option to hire three Filipinos instead. That means that if they take the three Filipinos, you would come fifth to be served. And if they take one American, you will be fifteenth. If they chose to give the job to that one American, will you be willing to wait your turn?
This is happening because a lot of you guys are so fucking demanding. Most of you guys don’t know how to wait their turn.
Some of you depend on your government too much and whine about how everything can’t be spoon fed to you by your great American government.
Why don’t you leave your country, find a job in a different country like we do? Or maybe, you should be the ones wiping the asses of your old folks so that we won’t ‘take your jobs.’
Some of you think so low of other nations because you think so highly of America. Go beyond what your media projects in movies and look at your country and be conscious of the attitudes of many of your people towards other nations, towards other people and even towards those of your own. Then, let me know if you’re proud of yourselves, racist assholes.
After that thirty minutes of hell with the son-of-the-devil: Mr. Fucking Malone, I went home to my apartment which has been cooled by the light early morning drizzle. I ate morning dinner of spaghetti with meatballs in front of my TV and dozed off after a movie.
I didn't have work that night so I woke up after a 10-hour sleep, took a shower, ate my favorite fruit: mango and watched another movie while I browsed Facebook, uploaded photos and exchanged text messages with friends.
After the movie, I turned on the radio, did my laundry and cleaned the apartment. A neighbor walked by the laundry area and we did a little chitchat before she left to do her own chores. Another neighbor knocked on my door after I was done with the laundry and gave me about three kilograms of mangoes – an addition to about a pail of mangoes she gave us a couple of days ago. And I love mangoes.
I got myself a glass of milk from the fridge and decided to eat a couple of mangoes pronto.
I looked around the apartment and realized that everything was working fine. I never really appreciated how everything just works fine inside the house. The fridge, the tv, the lights, the efans, the stove, the faucets, the laptop, the phones, the camera, the furniture… Everything was in good working condition and didn’t need any replacement.
And while I was eating mangoes, I thought of lone Mr. Malone travelling on business on a weekend unable to use his gadget with an attitude only hell can appreciate. I’m sure he will have a hard time. And nobody will give him free mangoes.
I’m just so glad I’m not Mr. Fucking Malone. I’m glad I didn't have his bullshit attitude and I’m glad nobody’s blogging shit about me and giving me ‘Fucking’ as first name on the internet.
Originally Posted on a Blog titled something similar to Just What I Want.
----------
I like bad days at the office.
Don’t get me wrong. I don’t want bad days at the office in particular; I like what comes after. But I can’t just say "I want what comes after a bad day at the office" because it is that bad day that makes me understand how good things actually are.
Except… I’ll understand that after maybe a couple of days. But during that bad day, I’ll feel absolutely horrible.
May 28. Sunday.
Three minutes before I get off from work, I took a call from a certain Mr. Malone who was travelling on business for the weekend. I forgot his first name so let’s just call him Mr. Fucking Malone.
At first the call went smoothly, I tried to help him out with our item. For the purpose of concealing what that item really is, I will call it gadget.
I thought that call would be a three-minute call. But then, it became a five-minute call, then a ten-minute call, and then longer...
I needed to make a lot of fixes, research and escalations to get the problem resolved. In the end, I found out that one of the two people he talked to before I did made a huge fucking mistake. I had to fix the ‘software’ and replace his gadget.
That meant that his ‘software’ will work but he wouldn't be able to use the gadget that day or the next since it was a Memorial Day Monday and we can’t deliver his gadget until Tuesday.
Mr. Fucking Malone said he talked to two people who told him that he shouldn't have any problems with using his gadget. Because one of those two people made a huge fucking mistake and I don’t know her name, let’s call her fucking ‘Kristen.’ <Sorry to all the Kristens out there. I hope you are not her>
I told Mr. Fucking Malone there was a problem. I told him he couldn't use his gadget that day but that I will get a new one to him by Tuesday. I felt bad for him until he asked where I was from.
Mr Fucking Malone then said that I didn't know how to do my job because I was Filipino. He mentioned again that fucking ‘Kristen’ told him that his gadget was good to go. He said he can’t understand me. He said I didn't know how to speak in English. He shouted and cursed. He got my complete name and threatened to file a complaint.
I wasn't scared of the complaint. For the record, I do my job well. I always have. I have commendations and records to back me up on that. They can pull up the recording on that call and they would know I didn't do anything wrong. Hell, if they pull up the recording, they might even suggest I sue Mr. Fucking Malone for Oral Defamation.
I can speak straight English since I was in the fourth grade. I have many times been told over the phone that the person on the other line couldn't tell that English wasn't my first language.
So NO, I do not believe that after more than ten minutes into a conversation, I have all of a sudden developed an accent and became unintelligible.
No, I did not do anything wrong here. No, my being the person who told you the truth does not make me the person who made the mistake.
And no, Mr Fucking Malone, I am not an idiot. And my being a Filipino does not make me an idiot either.
I felt so bad last Sunday and I cried after work. It was a very horrible feeling to do the right thing, to tell the truth, to help someone out sincerely and to get insulted in return. I spent more than 30 minutes of unpaid overtime helping Mr. Fucking Malone out.
And yes, my intention to help was sincere. Because Mr. Fucking Malone didn't insult me in the beginning, he insulted me AFTER I helped him out. He told me I didn't know how to do my job after I fixed his account. He told me he couldn't understand my English after we've been talking for more than thirty minutes of my unpaid overtime.
I love my country and this person told me that I’m an idiot because I am in my country while I know that my country is one reason for my competence. It is one reason why I do not do bullshit on my job.
This is for you, Mr Malone.
If you are Mr. Fucking Malone, I want you to know this:
Dear Mr. Fucking Malone,
You are an asshole. You’re a monster. And no matter how rich or successful you become, you will always be unhappy and unlucky because you make people who help you out feel very horrible.
I couldn't tell you last Sunday because I didn't want to get a written warning from my manager and, because I know that you were also in a difficult situation, I didn't want to hurt you. But if you went online and searched for someone who calls you Mr Fucking Malone and tells you you’re an asshole, I guess you were asking for it.
I hate racism.
I particularly hate racism because it insults individual excellence. You’re like this because this is your nationality; you’re like that because this is your country. This is a stupid generalization. Nobody is defined by their nationality.
Sure, fucking ‘Kristen’ made a huge fucking mistake and lied about it to Mr Fucking Malone. Fucking ‘Kristen’ is Filipino but it doesn't mean all Filipinos will make that mistake. If one of us is an idiot, it doesn't make all of us idiots. If 1 million of us are idiots (and you have to count,) it doesn't mean all of us are idiots. There are billions of us.
If American Mr Fucking Malone can’t understand that, it doesn't mean all Americans can’t.
I don’t understand where this racism, this hate, is coming from but I have an idea.
The following is an open letter to all Americans who say: WE TOOK THEIR JOBS.
Dear asshole,
The stupidity of this claim is beyond me.
Took your jobs???!! Your guys brought jobs here. We didn’t ask them to.
American companies brought the jobs here because it takes so much to pay you to do something; a third of the salary of one of you guys is a high-paying job for us.
What did we do? We allowed them to bring the jobs here.
What would you have done? Now that employment is down in your country, if Germany proposed to introduce an industry that will give your people high-paying jobs, will you tell them to stay in Germany and give the jobs to Germans?
You want to be mad because the jobs are here? If you want to be mad at us, you can think about what I just said. If you want to be mad at the companies who take their businesses here, think about this: If a company can afford to pay one American for every 15 customers; and they have the option to hire three Filipinos instead. That means that if they take the three Filipinos, you would come fifth to be served. And if they take one American, you will be fifteenth. If they chose to give the job to that one American, will you be willing to wait your turn?
This is happening because a lot of you guys are so fucking demanding. Most of you guys don’t know how to wait their turn.
Some of you depend on your government too much and whine about how everything can’t be spoon fed to you by your great American government.
Why don’t you leave your country, find a job in a different country like we do? Or maybe, you should be the ones wiping the asses of your old folks so that we won’t ‘take your jobs.’
Some of you think so low of other nations because you think so highly of America. Go beyond what your media projects in movies and look at your country and be conscious of the attitudes of many of your people towards other nations, towards other people and even towards those of your own. Then, let me know if you’re proud of yourselves, racist assholes.
After that thirty minutes of hell with the son-of-the-devil: Mr. Fucking Malone, I went home to my apartment which has been cooled by the light early morning drizzle. I ate morning dinner of spaghetti with meatballs in front of my TV and dozed off after a movie.
I didn't have work that night so I woke up after a 10-hour sleep, took a shower, ate my favorite fruit: mango and watched another movie while I browsed Facebook, uploaded photos and exchanged text messages with friends.
After the movie, I turned on the radio, did my laundry and cleaned the apartment. A neighbor walked by the laundry area and we did a little chitchat before she left to do her own chores. Another neighbor knocked on my door after I was done with the laundry and gave me about three kilograms of mangoes – an addition to about a pail of mangoes she gave us a couple of days ago. And I love mangoes.
I got myself a glass of milk from the fridge and decided to eat a couple of mangoes pronto.
I looked around the apartment and realized that everything was working fine. I never really appreciated how everything just works fine inside the house. The fridge, the tv, the lights, the efans, the stove, the faucets, the laptop, the phones, the camera, the furniture… Everything was in good working condition and didn’t need any replacement.
And while I was eating mangoes, I thought of lone Mr. Malone travelling on business on a weekend unable to use his gadget with an attitude only hell can appreciate. I’m sure he will have a hard time. And nobody will give him free mangoes.
I’m just so glad I’m not Mr. Fucking Malone. I’m glad I didn't have his bullshit attitude and I’m glad nobody’s blogging shit about me and giving me ‘Fucking’ as first name on the internet.
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