Bite

"But I did try my best to write you based on what I perceived through your writing. My wish is that my bio did give you justice." 

It was one of those easy projects to pluck on Upwork. The job was to write a short bio. It won't even reach 500 words, given today's collective memory retention. She said, she would be using it for her social media accounts, as well as her website's about page. She provided a link to her Instagram and set the deadline for submission.

I will be earning $30 for the writing job.

The client lives in the Middle East. She appears to be a vlogger and a social media influencer. She reaches out to her audience in Arabic. While it was a challenge using Google Translate to convert her thoughts from Arabic to English, I enjoyed reading her Instagram posts. She appears to be well-off, well-read and advocates respectful parenting in a region where disobeying parental commands is taboo. She promotes conscious living, as well as self-care and healing. "An amazing lady," I thought. And so I wrote her introduction like I would write it for a friend, or a person you would look up to. I knew it was perfect.

It took her weeks to reply. There was no feedback or a request for revision for such a commissioned work. Her account was even suspended for reasons Upwork will never tell. And when she got back, her first words were, "I'm sorry, this isn't what I'm looking for." She then terminated my contract and requested that I return the money held in escrow.

But I didn't take her treatment sitting down. I told her it was unfair that she didn't allow me to offer revisions or at least provide an acceptable explanation as to why it wasn't the bio she was looking for. She told me that she requested samples from different freelancers and that some of them just went with creating and some asked for more clarifications and questions to perfect their sample. She apparently picked a freelancer who worked closely with her.

Remember that she wasn't around when I submitted my draft? Worse even, she didn't tell that she had asked several freelancers to do her bio and then, pick one that she thinks would best represent her carefully curated social media image. I didn't even know that it was a long-term project. None of these were mentioned when I sought more information about the work.

She did try to compensate by asking for my Paypal email. She planned to send a token for my efforts and hoped this dispute would get resolved. Knowing what she was up to, I was already in communication with Upwork's friendly customer support. I told them what was happening and that, payment outside of Upwork is considered a violation of their Terms and Conditions.
An email sent to me days later reported that they have taken action against her violation.

"Thank you for this opportunity to write your bio and even though I won't understand your vlog or your Instagram in my local language, please know you're being appreciated."

While I can let go of the $30, I was shaken that I was dropped off, like a hot potato and without a good reason that I can live with. Moreover, I felt deceived that her social media accounts never captured what a jerk she is. I am still not a good judge of character, it seems. I suspect that the price she offered was too steep and that, an Arabic freelancer can do the job better. She just didn't have the face to admit that she made a wrong decision when she accepted my job proposal and that, it was too late to back off.

The dispute was resolved when Upwork decided to return her money, while also paying for the job that I have completed. While there was no denying that I would have preferred that she didn't get any refund, I understood that she's too valuable for Upwork to lose. What mattered is that I stood my ground and bit back when she thought I was a pushover.

Truth is, I didn't walk out unscathed. There was a price to extract for standing up for what you believe is unjust. Apart from the trauma of getting her as a client, I have also noticed that my Job Success Rate went down from 97% to 92%. It appears she left a bad remark that affected my score. A customer service rep assured that this can be corrected by getting more jobs. But after this short stint, I will stick with my 2 contracts and make sure my clients are both satisfied. 

I can earn enough.

Playroom

Consider this a "mema" entry; a flexing of the mind while contemplating the narratives to publish. Unplanned, but written with thoughtful consideration, I am left grappling for words to collect the contents of my head while Diego, now a seven-year-old boy, decides to bring his wooden bricks into my quarters and make it his temporary playroom for this evening. 

Of the four kids we are now raising, he would persistently make attempts to extend his zone of control into my room. In fact, earlier today, he was knocking at the door and calling for the Weatherman's name hoping he would be let it. I didn't pay attention, and instead, trailed my gaze on the petty fights and wokeness hell that is happening on Twitter. 

This evening, he succeeded. Maybe, I was just too unbothered while he made those incoherent play sounds, such as "woooooahhhhh ahhh ahhh," or "tshhhh, tsshhhh," while tapping the wooden cabinet beside him to make louder noises. On normal days, I would just tell him to play elsewhere, but I don't know why there's a sudden relaxing of the rules this time.

All I know is that I was meant to write about another story, but here I am writing about the most mundane stuff while admiring my nephew's gift to recreate scenes only he could appreciate.

And as I lay down on my bed while trying to shun the garbled words and the incessant "shhhsss... shhhhhsss..." out of my head, Diego continues with his bricks play. I then come to a realization that this sudden decision to let him take his toys and play with very little restrictions (he cannot put his wooden bricks on my bed), must be drawn out from a very early memory, when it was I, doing those silly sounds and recreating my imaginary worlds in someone else's room. 

There's comfort in remembering. 

I have the entire night to toil for money, and anytime soon, another distraction (or dinner call) will put this child's play to rest. This pause, however, while purely accidental, is much deserved.

Selfie

Twitter has always been the medium to express ones' strong opinions about subjects that netizens might find inappropriate and sensitive on Facebook, where one's blood and real-life relations connect with one another. A slight to one's beliefs can spill over during family reunions and social gatherings resulting in awkward conversations and untoward snide remarks.

Meanwhile, Twitter affords relative anonymity and most people are identified with ideologies and fandom; if not online personas carefully curated to increase one's clout and make-belief popularity. It has been this way ever since the blogs fell out of fashion, and for the most part, Twitter netizens are united when it comes to calling out the pervading social ills or incompetence on the part of the government.

We only cross those who are perceived as trolls and paid hacks, or public online figures who perversely speak out in defense of the regime or help proliferate fake news.

But in the months past, a trend I once paid little attention to has become a source of dread and disappointment. The behavior I once saw as a mere "tea spilling" among individuals and groups, who might have "regrettable histories" has become an everyday phenomenon, that no longer I found Twitter a safe space to speak out my mind. Sure, the shady and witty banters were a source of entertainment, and it was fun dragging strangers who carelessly parade their privilege, entitlement, and unpopular opinions. However, when this collective online stoning happened to a dear friend, (like what Twitter did to @econcepcion), I realize that it's time to become critical of individuals who spend so much time and energy spewing hate, believing such acts are still within one's right to call out another person.

Take for example how the Netizens reacted when it was James' turn to post what he had in mind.

The tweet, which normal individuals would pay little attention to, triggered some sensibilities that he was called out and was asked to change his tone. A tone policing. They said it was preachy, and that, he should mind his own business, rather than pick on tourists who would spend so much time trying to take a perfect selfie instead of appreciating what's in front of them. Worse, someone had to dig James' Instagram to reveal that he too, had some selfies when he traveled abroad.

Bingo.

The torrent of hate came without warning.

 

Personally, I am no fan of selfies and I measure people's need for self-validation by the number of selfies posted on his or her social media accounts. And like James, I would be totally annoyed to see someone taking a selfie instead of appreciating an exhibit or a vista. But I would keep these thoughts to myself knowing that others' sense of appreciation will not conform with mine. 

James might have his reasons, and like Ethel's (@econception) petty take on her dating standards, the vitriol they received from people who know very little about them and their humanity showed how we have turned Twitter into a cesspool of hate; where people on the same side stab one another for likes, and where sorry individuals flex their gift for insult throwing hoping to shame another. What made things uglier is that it was the Generation Z - the post-millennials  - who had a mouthful to say. There was so much disconnect that one with a sane mind could no longer bear the absurdity of the spectacle.  

No wonder, netizens are beginning to reject the wokeness of Twitter and that, there's a growing call to cancel the platform's pervading call-out culture. I wouldn't be surprised when individuals would turn their accounts private one day and that the once vibrant social media space would become a mere echo chamber for "influencers" who still believe that clout makes them royalties of this virtual anthill.

Time Space Warp

Consider this, not a homecoming, but an attempt to make use of the L'Heure Bleue. While the desire to pursue long-form writing died ages ago, it appears, faint glimmers of expression found its way on medium other than this blog. It may have been distilled in form and rushed to publication, but there exists, remnants of the old voice trying to resurface and be heard. That voice deserves recognition. So until nostalgia catches up or the desire to abandon social media becomes so powerful, that I will make my absence felt, this blog will serve as a repository of musings I penned elsewhere. Temporal in purpose and candid in style, I claim this space once more and make stories run full circle.