Sensitivity… the word that kills

Posted on: May 13, 2006

I am sensitive – extremely sensitive. I can laugh at the silliest jokes (only I could appreciate) and shed tears a-la-Maria Cristina falls just by listening to Pachelbel’s Canon in D. I wouldn’t try to explain.

Yesterday, my onion-skin like emotional “aptitude” was put to the test. Just when I thought I felt the worst in this hell-on-earth cleverly disguised as a ‘money factory’, I saw what is probably next to it. I was scheduled for a meeting with the Public Relations Manager of this huge company that I was trying to get for the CEO Profile of this (as you all know, I assume) magazine that I am putting together. The meeting place, aside from its unforgivable farness to Makati where my office is, is unfamiliar to me ‘coz I haven’t been there. Adding up to my qualms was the heavy downpour brought about by the first storm of the summer. Our company service was suppose to take me since I arranged for it a day before to make sure that my transportation will be secured. Heaven knows what happened but to make the story short, I ended up commuting my ass off to get to my destination – 30 f*@%ng minutes late. Nakakahiya di ba? Maybe the good heaven blessed my crying soul and granted that PR person to be nice enough not to embarrass me. The meeting went on for about 30-45 minutes and a little before 5pm, I was done. And I thought everything would be fine by then. It turned out my ride home (or back to the office) will not be able to make it as well. Grrr… So I was stuck in land far far away, in a stormy night with noting but self-assurance that I will be okay and I don’t have to make matters worse by being mad about the situation. Instead, I waited patiently for nearly two hours for my heroes – Kaching and ChinChin who went all the way to where I was, storm, traffic and all. I love them.

What annoys me about this whole situation is the reason why everything that was planned was practically shunned to give way to bureaucracy. I hate it. It is vile; it is evil. For the most part, it saddens me that even in a kingdom where there isn’t really any king, that stupid concept prevails. I wasn’t given a ride because the wife (?) of Mr. So-And-So, a high company official, just arrived and needs a ride from the airport. She was given priority of course. And I thought we are advocates of professionalism. Pity. Or, a colleague suddenly needs a ride from where the hell he’s coming from and without the slightest hint of sympathy to that someone (ak.a. me) gets the ride for himself. Jerk.

What saddens me the most is what I often feel about this whole thing – I am unappreciated.

Over-reacting or not, I was pissed.


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