In The Red

Last year, my contract with the second job has been terminated only with short notice. It was for the company's reorganization, they explained, and while they have provided a generous separation package, the loss of the second job resulted in the complete wipeout of my savings. There were so many unforeseen expenses - from house pest treatment to emergency car repairs.

I wasn't able to find a replacement racket to cover the loss.

So we start the new decade being technically in the red. And with credit card debts on the verge of going into default, having savings will now just be an afterthought. Though the Favorite Aunt's emergency fund is still under my control, I am no longer in the position to respond financially should there be a need to immediately shell out money for personal conveniences.

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.

Paying The Price

Previously: The Slave Driver

Friday begins like any other day: He wakes up, checks his phone for Facebook messages from his partner, checks out Slack for messages from his "other" job, and if he still has the time, signs in on Gmail to check for corrections given by clients in his "official" job. Gmail browsing is just an option today as it is his official "rest day." While others are gearing up for the work-free weekend, life goes on for him. It's been years since he last had a real rest day that he has learned not to entertain thoughts of burn out. He doesn't even ask for Vacation Leaves anymore. 

Half a year ago, his department at the Snippet Writing job was dissolved. It was swift, with over 50 souls suddenly finding themselves looking for a new job a week after the retrenchment was announced. While the department's demise was expected, (blame it on automation) and that the General Manager graciously provided a lump sum to keep everyone afloat for a month, not everyone found work as easy as he had. Barely two weeks after he was axed, he found employment in another company that moderates human-generated product reviews. 

Lucky for him, isn't it?

And so, despite the toils of having to manage two full-time jobs, he has accepted his lot without any reservations. He needs money - more than anything - as he realizes that one job could never support the demands of home. Now, he has to bring his laptop all the time, rely on his phone's mobile network to connect to the Internet, and squeeze work anywhere he goes. He has to give up his social life, (as his remaining free time is divided between his family and his lover) leaving all catching up with friends, and all invitations for coffee meetups, indefinitely postponed. 

It is the same reason he has stopped going to the gym for over a year now, cease long-form writing, which he used to have time to do - religiously, tend to his herb garden, which is experiencing a slow death, refrain from getting lost in the simulated worlds of his PC Games, even though he could afford new DLCs or expansions on Steam anytime. 

But at times when he could afford to think and ruminate his situation, he still wonders if it's all worth it, to accumulate this wealth in exchange for giving up everything that he once was:

...But today was a not-so-ordinary day. In preparation for a very big wedding he will attend tomorrow, he spent the whole afternoon getting a haircut and pedicure at GC, tried new specs at Executive Optical, bought new leather shoes, a pair of slacks, a new long sleeves, a ready-to-wear necktie, and a pair of socks which he will wear at the event. He was able to pay his house's mortgage tax, eat lunch at Bonchon, and bring home a Shrimp sandwich from Wendy's for his mom, without ever feeling a pinch on his savings. (But of course, most of these were paid through Mastercard) 

But still...

It is the price he has to pay - and will continue to pay until he can keep his two jobs because times have changed, and much as he wishes for an easier life, the choice is between liberty (with empty pockets) or a little sense of security (while never really experiencing the joys of living). By now, the choice is clear: he has to endure this all. 

He has two more hours to toil for his other job before he can get some sleep. After which, he has to start another work day soon after the wedding reception is over.

The Slave Driver

Monday.

He wakes up at past 5 in the morning to carry on the tasks he was supposed to perform overnight. He finds less than 10 emails on his help desk software. This can be processed in less than an hour. However, times have changed for the raketship, and to compensate, our slave driver has commenced working for his day job 8 hours earlier than the time he was expected to go online. There is no supervisor checking. The clients abroad are spending their rest days. Might as well tweak the hours of being on the job so he can serve two masters at the same time.

The work schedule was different just a week ago. At this very hour, at 6:47 AM, one can find him in front of the laptop, rushing to add at least 15 units of work before the mandatory deadline at 8. With an entire week to write snippets - short descriptions about the services being offered by independent business owners - he only feels the crunch time on Sundays, when there's still over a hundred units of work to submit to the client.

These days, that over a hundred units of work have to be done before Tuesday midnight, to remain competitive, as 80 more writers will have to sink their nails and teeth and write as many snippets to earn their keep.

Thirty thousand work units, divided among freelance writers who used to deliver five hundred snippets every week. The first attempt may have ended in disarray; we still speculate how this affected the quality of production. But like in all organizations, the leadership will come up with ways for correction and make no mistake, we trust their wisdom. As for the writers like our slave driver, the choice is to adapt. This new work arrangement may turn him into a hermit for at least three days. But one thing we have discovered (and how joyful it is to find that there is so much to do outside of the two jobs) is that once the work units have run out, life at long last, says hello.

Retrenchment

Previously on: Ayala Boy

I have difficult news to share with you today. Due to some updates in our SEO strategy, we’ve been forced to lower our writing deliverables by up to 40% immediately. This is not what we had hoped would happen. We’ve unfortunately had to let go of ~50 of your peers today. Although all of your contracts are still active, we have updated a new contract (details below) which you will have to agree to by tomorrow, 3pm, in order to continue writing.

--

The electronic mail was couriered through the private networks, like a bomb dropped at the unsuspecting agents. There was no advanced word: not even hints that something sinister will tear people's lives before the day's end. It was business as usual for these writers, not even in their greatest fears had they ever contemplated having to spend their last day at work before the month's end. With the holidays fast approaching, seldom do companies hire at this time of the year. Why leave when pay is good, performance is in the upswing, and all seems well with the home-based workplace?

But then the unthinkable happened. 

One of the agents suddenly found herself being kicked out of the company portal. She was unable to log in for reasons beyond her understanding. Another agent wasn't even able to start his work anymore, unbeknownst to him, his contract had just expired.

Across different teams, this was the collective tale. Fifty souls had just lost their jobs. This doesn't include the number of new hires from the outsourcing unit the management had just tapped some months ago. There will be no separation pay. Even those who met swift termination were deemed the lucky ones. They are at least free to look for work elsewhere, unlike those who are still in the company, and unsure when their time of reckoning will come. Not only will they never find peace in the coming days, earnings, unlike the ones they enjoyed just weeks ago have been slashed by more than a half. Those who used to bringing home 60 grand will have to make do with less than 20. The management did not just enforce a limit to the number of work units a writer can do in a week, every short article written will have less value from now on. 

Lives have changed in a single day. 

I have heard stories about agents who suddenly found themselves under mountains of debts. Cars that were paid by loans might need to be returned if other sources of income cannot be found. Children who were sent to expensive schools may need to go back to public classrooms. Many, who have left their day jobs will suddenly find themselves unable to support their new lifestyles. Regret will be the by-word for tomorrow. Some of my peers even started looking for short-term projects on Upwork.

While this has little effect on my earnings, the confidence I have with the raketship has been shaken. No longer can I let the days pass certain of my direction. While I have seen countless retrenchments in my life, one, even engineered by me, it is only now that the stakes have been higher. Losing the raketship would mean a slash of my take-home pay. I cannot imagine keeping a lifestyle with merely my day job to keep my finances afloat.

A town hall meeting was held today, and a person can glean from the agents' sarcastic remarks punctured by self-entitled free thought the anguish of having to work under a new arrangement. Tempers flared. Many, vented their anger and resignation by showing insolence towards the management. At first, my sympathies were with fellow writers, and how they have been led to believe of the limitless opportunities offered by the raketship. But realizing how companies - big and small - ditch even their most loyal pawns, and how each worker is as good as his last performance, little by little, I begin to understand the right of the raketship to save itself. It may have been drastic for others, especially to those who have become complacent of tomorrow, but nothing can really be undone. I may have been spared the fate befalling some of my peers; I may even end up as one of the highest income earners given the decision to stick with two jobs rather than invest in one. However, in the end, I may have to accept this as well:

Nothing is permanent, and I may have to look for a third source of income, just to be sure I may never find myself with nothing, when the day of my retrenchment comes. 

Perks

Previously: The Buff Daddy Slips Ipanema

"Para kang nagsuot ng tsinelas na gawa sa White Rabbit." 

That is how I would describe the feeling of slipping a pair of Ipanemas; like stepping foot on a pad made of the locally-made chewy candy. 

"Sa sobrang lambot niya sa paa, parang ayaw mo na magsapatos."

The impression would stay, six years past the time I got my flops for free. It was the height of the blogging fever, and after letting my online portal become a vehicle for some fancy promotions, of marketing a brand of footwear that sets aside part of its earnings to help restore the environment, the organizers of the event gifted me with a complementary card, a slip of paper that I could use to purchase my own slippers.

Never in my wildest dreams would I see the flops endure the passing of time. The Ipanemas had seen many places, and witnessed so many events, some, would even trickle down to these very pages, in published entries too many to mention. As a testament to its durability, a selling point I didn't say when I wrote about the pair, the slippers have never been replaced. They were my only flops. I was confident the footwear would endure, that I forgot, 

Rubber, like all natural materials, breaks down with time. Mine did, when tiny cracks gave way to large fissures at the base of the slippers, where the plastic strap meets the thick foot pad. 

---

So I have seen the last of the Ipanemas, and may this be my parting entry for a commissioned work that began with a product launch invitation. Let this also be a time for remembering, of the glory days when blog writers were treated like royalties, and get perks for publishing stories that would populate the search engines with copies of consumer products. To this day, I would not deny yearning to return to that time, and write stories about food and travel, like many bloggers did. Forget earning from penning press releases. With perks such as the pair of footwear I got for doing what I loved the most, I would never tire of writing.

This has, after all, been my calling. The published entries, and how they weave narratives that jump from one life to another are my rewards.

A Moment Adrift

Snippet: 

Mugen is a BPO supervisor who also does email and chat technical support, as well as SEO writing. He also offers basic gardening, errand assistance, blog writing, and more.

---

1. Too much work makes one forget the passing of days. I was surprised to learn yesterday that it was already Sunday, all my friends were drinking, and there I was, responding to email inquiries sent by users at 2 in the morning.

2. Mother's Day came and all I was able to accomplish is buying flowers for my mom at Dangwa Market. She was pleased when she saw it, as she never got one from my father in all the years they were married. I bought my sister a bouquet of roses too, something her husband cannot do given his economic limitations.

3. I've been encouraging the Weatherman to pursue his plans of applying for emergency passport. I even volunteered to accompany him at the DFA, which, I will never do to anyone. Not even to my sister. 

4. He needs to have a passport so he could be with his mom who had a delicate surgery last week.

5. Never has my body clock been this fucked up in recent years. I sleep in late afternoon, wake up at around early evening, take a nap at 12 midnight, after the batch of pending emails were sent to customers, and wake up again at 2 am to continue working. I clock an average of 5 hours of sleep every day.

6. And I'm able to squeeze the workouts despite the woozy feeling.

7. Yesterday, I participated in this social media meme on Twitter where one has to confess something about himself for every "star" he gets. I got 25 stars in a span of an hour, and had to tell some of my darkest confessions I have yet to write on my blog. One condition I imposed is that I will delete everything at 6 in the morning. Too bad for those who woke up late as they will never get to know the adventures I had in my previous lives. 

8. I sometimes feel that my money-making activities have robbed me of my creativity. In all fronts, I feel that something within is wilting, including writing. I may still keep a treasure trove of words, but hardly do I use them for artistic expression.

7. Like a pure shot of caffeine, I decided to start the month with this blog entry, while trying to beat the deadline for the raketship at 8 in the morning. I succeeded in doing both.

8. The title of this blog entry is an appropriate description of my state of mind: lutang.

Wealth Gained, Love Lost

Previously:

Chasing Hours
Endless Waltz

"I was wondering why you didn't finish your 5-hour SEO writing on our day 5 of the on-boarding process?" 

I read the words with much horror after the offline message was left on Google Hangouts. It was from my team leader, sent at past midnight, while I was undergoing training for the new technical email support project at my day job. 

"I need you to finish this tomorrow because we are so far already from schedule."

The way the message was written, sounded like it was an ultimatum. Should I ignore the order from my handler again, certain that I might be dropped permanently from the side project.

---

The on-boarding process can be described as the same as call center agents' nesting period. What was supposed to be a five-day training, took me two weeks to complete. One of the reasons for the delay was the hesitation. What I thought was easy work turned out to be repetitive in nature. Also, there was already this sense of accomplishment: That maybe, what I wanted was recognition. I have been looking for freelance work on Elance for months, and as soon as I have received the letter telling me that I was hired by this start-up company, my eyes were set to look for shorter, less binding projects.

The demands of SEO writing were too much for me.

---

To this day, I still have no answers as to what made me decide to pursue this line of work when the odds were stacked against me. It was a mind melting, time stealing, and mechanical writing pursuit that was responsible for my short disappearance from blogging last year. I lose sleep because of it. My creativity waste away for I often write with canned thoughts given the less time to seek and lay down stories, and finally, the hours I used to spend so wantonly now have to be tempered and contemplated, so as to keep myself from going crazy during the weekend crunches. Back then, all I had was the "bahala na" attitude; of using my boss' vintage laptop without his permission to log my details and write snippets to finish the boarding process. It didn't matter if I was using company resources (and time) to complete the task. My colleagues were oblivious to my activities, and that morning, I was intent to deliver despite the uncertainty of my commitment.

I needed money.

---

It was a slow, and often depressing journey towards accepting my new life. Much of the credit goes to my team leader, who displayed infinite patience when I would never - in my own capacity as a supervisor - extend such consideration to a new hire. The ex boyfriend played his part too. His self-made image gave this impression that I was with a well-established guy. His claimed profession, the manufactured stories about his wealth, and the movie and dinner dates we used to do every weekends forced me to raise funds just to keep up with him.

In the end, he would end our story for higher ambitions.

It was just a year ago when the prospects of losing my savings - for the second time - came close to becoming a reality, and looking back from where I stand today, I have nothing but gratitude for the decision I almost didn't make.

I may have given up too many comforts for this venture to work, but assuredly I can say, never have I been more certain of good fortune that will continue flowing, perhaps, for many years to come.

Ayala Boy

And when I close my eyes, I see myself working in some small, but high-paying company at the heart of Makati. One breezy afternoon, I would go out of my new office building to smoke and gaze at the sun's rays reflected on the stained windows of a skyscraper across the street. The day was relatively productive, and day by day, I am becoming more of an asset to the company. Ever since I joined them, I make sure that I am in the forefront of every project they have been involved with.

For I have taught myself to become an achiever; someone who is willing to take all necessary steps just to be ahead of his colleagues.

- Taming the Tikbalang, Secret Blog Entry, February, 2006

I opened my droopy eyes after giving a big yawn, timing that there were no managers in front of me. It was a Friday morning, and with just two hours of sleep, there was little love when I had at last, made the decision to go to the Makati Central Business District. It was a last-minute change of heart, an afterthought, after some team leader from the Raketship included my name on her list. I was to attend a workshop she personally organized, a small group that didn't show up when the company had its summer outing in an island south of the country. Without her persistence, and the realization that I was representing my team, I would rather lay in bed and sleep, than go through another night shift with very little shut-eye.

I arrived late at the venue, as expected. Forced to walk under intense heat from the Makati Medical Center to Greenbelt Mall when the shuttle cut its trip short at the fringes of Ayala and Buendia avenues. Memories of past loves, and even the present one make incursions in the head, as I hasten my steps at the overhead walkway towards my destination. But with thoughts of having an ancient aspiration being accomplished, and the newness of having to set up a mobile workstation in a real office, the matters of the heart turn irrelevant when there is an apparent level-up in my profession.

It would be the first time meeting face-to-face the people at the SEO writing job.

Very little can be said about the event, except the resource persons talked about work issues and new QA processes the business will implement soon. Also mentioned were features that would aid writers like me so our production multiplies, and the quarterly goals achieved. This of course, is corporate chat, a preoccupation I am to make some distance given the job arrangements with the company. And with portal issues keeping us from writing snippets, and animated managers who take breaks to smoke every two hours, there was little doubt about the informality of the meeting.  

And it made me feel at home.

What I can write with more than fleeting descriptions are the modern and minimalist style workspaces, divided into small rooms with floor to ceiling glass walls so that one could see what everyone is doing within. There are spacious common areas too where groups can meet and conceptualize ideas, socialize with colleagues, and relax, as there are swinging benches, Foosball tables, and even a stationary bike in one corner. The raketship has a small office there as well, enough to fit 10 people for brainstorming and roundtable teleconferences with counterparts abroad. I was told the office is seldom occupied, and when it does, only the country director and his team go in to stock items to be given away as motivational trinkets.

I can also tell about the people at the workshop, whose names I no longer recall, except those of Lourdes, the manager of my department, and MM, the country director of the Raketship. What I knew from MM's brief talk was his love of scuba diving, as well as his desire to make everyone as productive - even at the cost of doing more automation to speed up our work. Also remarkable was his decision to use the fire exit stairs from the fifth floor to go down to the lobby. He said it was to save electricity. Everyone of course, followed. Lourdes, meanwhile, was instrumental for my stay in the company. When I found that my pay went to some people I have no contact with. She was there to speak on my behalf, even raising her voice when the representative of the staffing agency showed arrogance when she was being polite about my missing earnings. To this day, I still see Lourdes as an elder sister, someone I'd always remember should a time come I'd have second thoughts leaving the side work.

We parted ways that day with a tight and sincere hug.

I went to the workshop believing I could live the Ayala dream: of finally doing some work-related stuff that would put me alongside the thousands of corporate drones and creative slaves who make up the daytime population of the financial district. The last time I went to Makati other than to meet ex lovers or have dinners with friends was to look for work, and aspire to become a slacks-and-sleeves guy myself. Typing on my laptop as MM speaks about the hours we render work, memories of that one afternoon at Sencor re-emerges, when I used to gaze at the skyscrapers while lamenting how near I was and yet stuck at the bowels of Pasay. I also recall musing the job hunting days, when I was very close to accepting posts that pay very little, but at least, I can boast rubbing elbows with the professional elites. I know, such pipe dream will never be mine anymore, and at a time when relative wealth no longer drives me to shop for workplaces beyond home, there is comfort knowing I can put my illusions to rest knowing that for once, life afforded me a day to be an Ayala boy.

Striking Gold

While taking a break from my blurb-writing raketship, (which I'm close to giving up) I came across a Facebook post about a couple who struck big, during the Football matches in Brazil. 

The story goes exactly like this:

From Sigfreid Barros Sanchez

Now that the World Cup is coming to an end, let me share to you how a friend of mine earned P50,000 a night just by making loom bands. He and his girlfriend just had an idea to make loom bands whose colors are based on the colors of the flags of the nations that are competing at the soccer tournament. They made the loom bands really nicely and sturdy and went to places in Makati and Malate where expats hang out in the wee hours of the evening to watch the games. They sold the loom bands for one-thousand pesos each. It was a jackpot selling these loom bands to these foreigners because most of them come to these bars with their Filipina girlfriends in tow. So they already score a jackpot by selling two loom bands to two persons in one sitting. Add to these that most of these guys are drunk and fanatics and would buy almost anything you shove at them that is connected to their favorite team. They were able to sell 50 loom bands a night which gave them a take of P50K each evening they hang out almost sleepless. And that with just an investment of P800 per one big bag of assorted rubber bands! Talk about being an entrepreneur! And this guy did not even took up a Marketing course in college! His background is he is just a musician/cameraman! Now that the World Cup is coming to an end, I'd like to share this story to inspire others out there that doing business does not entail you to have a cum laude or a diploma from a big university. You just have to start small and dream big and know how to make good use of a situation to your advantage. He is starting his new batches of loom bands for the July 13 games. I know he won't be able to go to all the bars in Metro Manila to sell his works so I am sharing this to you so that you can earn a little money with the last game in Brazil. After the World Cup, he is already eyeing two sporting events to sell his wares. As they say in our native tongue, "Una-unahan lang 'yan! Kanya-kanyang diskarte lang 'yan!" What's yours?

I was telling my deputy the other night some painful truths about our rat race, including the people at work who has sunk under heaps of loan payments. It was our smoking break, and a fancy car passed by distracting our individual train of thoughts. I was the first to break the silence, to confess that sometimes, I no longer find comfort in the status quo.

"Alam mo, talaga sigurong yayaman ka lang sa pagne-negosyo." I said between the cigarette puffs.

"Honga, kung makaipon lang ako, gusto ko magtayo ng Internet cafe." 

"Malulugi ka dun, I countered." I told him the story of a friend who used to have an Internet cafe, and his never-ending problems of upgrading his units to catch up with technology.

"Kahit malapit sa school?" I nodded.

"Marami na may laptop at gadgets ngayon." I said. He then concurred that rental rates have gone too low, while electricity rates continue to surge, to even break-even.

I don't know what has gotten into me, but since the raket projects began to pay off, this aspiration to make more money became a stuff of ambitions. Last month, I spoke to a friend about treasure bills and government bonds. Lately, it's business ideas I'm incubating during my idle times. While there's no certainty that I have the guts for money-making ventures, the very idea that I've recovered my savings through means outside my day job speak of my potentials. 

I may not be as lucky and creative as the guy who struct gold during the Football matches. But one day, I'm certain to be overwhelmed by an entrepreneurial inspiration and do something to make it come true.

Who knows what life lies ahead.

"Alam mo Allan," I told my colleague and deputy during that same night we spoke about our business ventures. 

"Kung magnenegosyo siguro ako, gusto ko magtayo ng pet crematorium."

"Pet crematorium?" His contorted face expressed his befuddled thoughts.

"Yup. Mukhang wala pang ganung negosyo, and most probably, the market for it is already there." I said assuredly.

"Imagine mo na lang lahat ng mga pets na pinapatulog sa vet clinic." I disclosed.

"At yung mga pet owners na sobrang mahal yung mga pets nila, can't afford nilang ipatapon na lang yung carcass basta-basta.

"Yun ang unang kong mga clients."   

Hard Choices

Bentusi, my new surrogate mother and former editor used to tell me not to accept mechanical writing jobs like those that require search engine optimized article writing. In her words, she said that I am not trained for word crunching tasks that are repetitive in nature, and whose pay demeans what I am capable of as a storyteller. I did take her warning lightly, assured that I won't accept gigs that would drain whatever remains of my artistry. But then, an income opportunity came and when I passed the evaluation, the warning was ditched in favor of earning extra cash.

Two months into the job and I am beginning to feel the strain of my work.

For the uninstructed, search engine optimization is a technique of inserting unique and appropriate words that make an article easy to find on search engines like Google. The tricky part is placing "fresh keywords" within sentences that Google actually "reads." As far as I know, SEO experts guess these words placements as Google has this habit of changing their system algorithms from time to time. Web traffic affects as well as the pages where the articles are placed should have very high credibility. It means the website needs to have an active readership, has no malicious ads, and has been in existence for at least a year. These are the rudiments of an industry that I have successfully evaded.

But now, it is eating so much of my time that I have lost interest in other pursuits.

Like blogging.

Given that I am bound by a non-disclosure agreement, what I can tell about my other job is that I am required to write short blurbs, around two sentences, summarizing what the service user does as a profession. The work itself is easy at first glance, but when you begin writing descriptions that have similar offerings, the activity becomes tedious that I have to stop frequently, or suffer the risk of having headaches should I press on. There is a required number of blurbs to be written in a week, and if this is not enough, keywords should be hooked in the summaries so they would appear on search engines' page rankings.

I was paid handsomely for the sideline - the biggest so far - since I started doing freelancing jobs under Bentusi. But it also tears me from within, that sometimes the emptiness makes me question the essence of this soulless pursuit. I tempted fate last week by deciding not to hit the required number of blurbs to be written, and as a result, I was asked to write an explanation for my defiance.

Defending my action to my superiors is easy, what I find challenging is drawing motivation: The reason to go on beyond the monetary gains, which when I ponder deeply, don't fulfill my yearning for sublime accomplishments.  

The present arrangement at the raket could afford me a little more time to do other activities - like paying close attention to my real work, and spending time doing my routines. But when the new manager announced this morning an increase in the number of blurbs to be submitted after the end of the week, I am tempted to send a copy of my resignation letter to express my disapproval.

I'll give myself a single try, and should it fail, I'd rather walk the path of poverty (and freedom) than stick to an activity I find no joy anymore.

A Posthaste Reverie

Previously: Chasing Hours

Twice, there was an attempt to walk away from the project. The first was during the on-boarding process. I was the last among my batch to review the training materials for reasons of incompetence. The second was on the last leg of the training. The exercise required doing actual work, which I stalled for a day and a half thanks to laziness. If not for my superior, who kept track of my very slow progress, I would have slinked away and ditched the home-based job.

There was no commitment at the beginning. I was preoccupied with the new assignment at the office. I no longer know how to set some time for freelance work. Besides, there was already a sense of contentment when I made the cut. That it was enough. And when I learned that it takes some time to actually learn the job, and that writing summaries would take much of my time, I was in for a quick retreat. 

I was willing to start over and bid for easier jobs on Elance.

For some reasons, I was able to pull myself together and actually write for my freelance work. Blame that overwhelming pressure as the culprit. As thoughts of extra income stirred me to spend, I became determined to make money through the only choice I have. I would write for the raket at work - sometimes even when the boss was around; at home - when not in slumber; I even squeezed doing freelancing instead of working out at the gym.

It was hard work.

And I paid the price.

It became a source of malaise. I was down with a flu for a week and yet I went on writing between the self-imposed breaks. It sowed discord between my manager and a staffing agency at Odesk, when I learned that my earnings were coursed through a third party without my knowledge. As a result, my work was unpaid for weeks because of the delay in refunds. And when I asked the company - the provider of the sideline I do today - if they accept subcontractor arrangements, I was confronted by the same manager to demand explanation.

Because all I wanted really is to bring some of my colleagues at the office aboard.

All of these happened in the course of a single month: A midsummer, when I let the days roll by without having a recollection of how the hours were spent; a moment, when my very identity was consumed by my single-minded desperation to earn. There were times it felt I was selling my soul for material comforts, but then, given the need to spur my cash reserves, I had to force myself to believe that therein lies my sweet spot.   

That no matter the sacrifices, the chance to a better future is laid upon me.

It's been a month since I halfheartedly decided to rely on Raket Science to keep my finances afloat, and despite the setbacks and the heartaches - the guilt of giving up so much just for this one shot to a bountiful life, I would have to say my choice has paid off.

I've already recovered the savings I had lost.

     

Transmigration

Previously on Diaspora

The other day, I had an informal chat with an old client. They are engaged in B2B marketing of green products and services. The client was asking if I could install the mobile app they created, and rate it on Google Play. Since I had nothing to do, I was more than happy to set aside some time to explore the app and write a review about it. The comment I wrote - both in public and private - seemed to have won the client's approval, and what started as a small talk had turned into exploratory discussion about working for them once more.

The exchange packs a lot of promise. After all, anything that is eco-friendly will find its appeal to the market. This belief, has long endeared me to the client. I have nothing but admiration to the vision they are trying to sell. The app is still in its Beta stage, and the client disclosed that should they win the bidding, they will have to move to a country in the Middle East. Their project aims to create a directory of green products and services in a city in Saudi Arabia.

And they were asking me to join them and work there.

The invitation took me by surprise. I was flattered, and for a moment the words rung, like it would cause the collapse of my long held principles. To be clear, I was merely asking if they have data entry jobs we could work on. For the client, however, the suggestion was a loud musing. Had I said "yes" to their invitation, nothing still would come out of the negotiation.

Except heartaches.

In a time when every person I know plans to work in Singapore or some other country where the pay is significantly higher, the idea of joining the bandwagon has yet to cross my mind. So strong is my aversion to becoming a foreign worker - or immigrant - that I'm willing to take extra jobs just to support my lifestyle. The reason, I believe, already goes beyond the need for someone to stay behind: halfway through my lifetime, I am more afraid to be uprooted and start elsewhere, than live a life with meager resources. 

It makes me sad thinking nothing would change my mind.

There are times I wonder if I'm letting some good opportunities pass by. There are clear indications that I'm more than qualified to work abroad than those who struggle to get there. And yet, I cling to my comfort zone believing this is the only world I've got. Like those who elected themselves to remain in Manila, I get a tinge of envy when someone I know succeeds in another country. They come back and move around like royalties, and rather than feel the pitch, and the pressure to catch up, the absence at reunions speak of my resignation. 

That I still have to prove the merits of my chosen direction.

Looking back and recalling the conversation with the old client, the invitation to work in the Kingdom revealed my stubbornness to open myself to the possibilities. For instead of responding to his suggestion, I skipped the question entirely and opted to stick to the app subject. 

Not even a hint of interest to work in the desert city was shown, when it's obvious that life offered a new direction. 

What You Can Never Take Away

Previously: 

A Lesson In Freelancing
Chasing Hours

I wake up at past nine to send my morning greetings to my partner. And then off I go to the toilet, to fill the bucket I use to water the already wilting plants. I would then return to bed to talk to the beau. An hour before lunchtime, the laptop would be switched on. It is the start of my workday, which often, wraps up at daybreak the next day.

It has been my cycle since I turned to raket science to beef up my wealth. With the kids at home getting sick, and the matriarch having panic spells when daily needs find its way into the conversation, the only resolution I have is to make extra money. It means logging on to the website of the company that hired me last month.

And do work.

For all intents and purposes, I signed up to a full-time job. I thought the work is easy, but it is not. I could have walked out - like so many others in my batch. But at the end of the day, the extra work promises to increase my earnings. I see a long-term partnership in this venture, with my workplace getting a piece of the pie if I cook the ingredients well. 

But the personal cost is staggering. No longer I could sleep at night without thinking of the quota for next day. I could even say that sometimes, respite comes only when I think of my boyfriend. That he is with me, and his presence affords me to undertake such life-altering projects like this.

For the first time in recent memory, I am no longer dreaming. I am pursuing a dream.

And so, even when I indulge in written rants, or let myself get immersed in the social media banters I shun lately, there is no reason to step back and turn around to the dicey life I had. What matters is I remember the essence: the activities that define who I am now - to the day of my last breath.

A Lesson In Freelancing

It has come to a point where clawing into my pockets had reached its limits, and, without other sources of income to serve as my buffer, it would take months before I can truly say that my funds have been replenished. I spend beyond my earnings and for that, I turn to freelancing so I may not sink beneath my payment obligations. 

Elance has been my saving grace for the longest time. The problem, however, lies, with bidding. One has to draft a pitch - a letter to sell your skills. These days, it is hard to get noticed. Despite my attempts to be creative, I tend to lose to other sellwords.

For this reason, I was fortunate to enter into a contract with a local client last month. It is a project that modestly pays, but with a job that is taxing - if you work full-time in another company. Nonetheless, I tried my luck and was hired. I may have lost a great deal of time spending it with loved ones, but at least, my needs will be met.

It was a trade-off I begrudgingly accepted.   

Three weeks into the project and I was getting worried because they have yet to send my earnings on Paypal. I raised this issue with my team leader twice. He assured me that the funds were still intact. There was no reason to get anxious.

To my horror, I learned that my earnings were coursed through a staffing service. Its representative sent me a notice asking for my bank account. I replied immediately asking how I got associated. There was no clear answer. Only that, they had sent an invitation and I accepted it.

I have no memory of such invitation.

Recalling how I got into this mess was already a stressful affair. First, I signed in with Odesk only because it was required by the client. Second, my account was a derelict. Never did I use it to find work, since, I was earning comfortably from my favorite marketplace. Last, I was dropped into the middle of things without any knowledge. Imagine having panic spells thinking as to what happened to your compensation, only to find out it was hijacked by a person you don't even know of.

So it was escalated to my team leader, my manager and to Odesk itself. I was looked down by the headhunter after accusing her of sending a spam.

"Im not gaining from your contract." The bitch said. "I earn way too much if you can see from my history yet I'm the one contacting you just so I can give you your pay. And yet I'm being perceived as a spammer." I was unrepentant.

Knowing that my money remains with her, and that, throwing more insults would result in a possibility that I'd not get my pay forced me to tone down the rhetoric. After explaining my behavior, I let the good managers do the talking. Not only was the manager able to persuade the headhunter to drop me from the staffing service, she sent a full refund amounting to half month's worth of pay I get from my day job. I was relieved.

At a hindsight, the escalation could have been averted had the headhunter explained how the process worked. Instead, her words probed, like a blade piercing through my gut. She was condescending, cocky, and unfitting to look after agents that were supposed to be under her wing. On my part, I could have been level-headed, a little less abrasive, a little less suspicious with her intentions.

It's water under the bridge now.

With my contract resumed, and without any staffing agency attached to my new account, the only challenge remaining is how I can hit the quota without losing so much of my free time.

Seldom do I get the chance to hit so many birds with one stone.

Chasing Hours

Leisure activities had to take a backseat when the new project I was instructed to lead went live last week. As the nesting days slowly pushed my team to the front lines, the long pauses between job tasks have been reduced to a fading memory. No longer could I browse the web and read articles of interest like I did at work. I even have no time to post updates on Twitter, and catch up with people in my digital social circles.

At home, sleep and watching cartoons became a luxury. I would clock an average of 5 hours of shut-eye during weekdays. Meanwhile, watching reruns of Oggy and the Cockroaches on Cartoon Network have become a bedtime ritual. Within minutes of turning on the television and closing my eyes, the trip to snoozeland doesn't take long anymore. It's easy to sink into the realms of the subconscious when weariness and exhaustion had consumed what's left of your strength.

And I am just reeling from the first ripples.

A day wouldn't end without a poignant contemplation of tomorrow. Time for every activity, including the watering of the plants have to be counted. Work that never interfered with the wanderings of the mind now demands thoughtful dissection. Even penning words for reflection has to be done between eating meals and lifting steel plates. I sometimes fear these written musings have to be given up as well.

All because I made a choice, and my decision will force me to embrace a life chasing hours from now on.

"You are meant for this," the voice inside my head assured.

"But I'm afraid I will have to give up the things I treasure most."

"Like what?"

"Like prose, video games, and nightly musings."

"Like work outs, hearty talks with loved ones, and me-times I long the most."

"Well at least you have a shot to live out your dreams." The inner self giggled. "Can't you see you walk alongside the big boys now?"

"I do hope so." I said to myself when another email alert showing on my phone screen distracted my train of thoughts.

"And that gig you just signed up with TT, may very well double your wealth."

Jungle Age

It is said that great stories are weaved from scratch, a one-sentence idea conjured inside the writer's head. From this spark, a storyteller spins a narrative. Contrived on a digital loom, scenes suspend disbelief. Characters fleshed out turn life-like, and tales swirled from the creator's mind become arcane tapestries pressed into a single book. 

Some become well-loved by all. 

But not all storytellers are able to warp and weft a yarn. There are those lacking the skill to spin a convincing narrative. While others, despite possessing mastery to fabricate moving pictures with words, are denied the use of loom. Their tapestries lay hidden and collecting pixie dust, unread by those who might revel in magical tales untold.

These bards of the written word journey the world, for places that readily embrace their works. They sing fiction that are beyond the machinations of man. Their intrepid souls cross dimensions to bring back fabled accounts of dwarfs and dragons; or slide through alternate landscapes where werewolves, vampires and zombies live among men. In the universe of Google, every imaginable story comes to life. What is sought is a repository, and an audience to hear these enchanting tales.

I have come across many places, where stories incubate before they get published. There is Wattpad and Deviant Art, and some blogs whose links have already slipped my mind. There is not much to say, for my stay in these places were in passing. Only when I stumbled on Jungle age did my words affected other writers.

I lingered, like a restless spirit, searching for answers.

Jungle age is a community of writers and readers. The works uploaded on the website are supernatural and science fiction in nature. Unlike with other writing communities, where approval of one's work comes in the form of "likes," readers of Jungle age are encouraged to leave comments using a template that helps writers improve their drafts.

One look, and those used to the symmetry and clean lines of Wattpad would be driven away by Jungle age's dry layout. Same with those used to the clutter and timelessness that is Deviant Art. Like the stories posted in its mundane pages, Jungle age is a work that has remained in canvass. Imagine a mecha under construction: the upgrades are put together - shaped, by an unseen hand, to make the glide across the website a more cherishing experience to audience and storytellers alike.



Promises abound when a work has room for improvement. When icons overlap with headers, or chapters need to be arranged in a chronological manner for readers to appreciate stories; you know the work is not yet over. However the shortcomings, I see well the clearing: of how Jungle age can transform and become a place for struggling fiction writers - to find inspiration and guide. It is because when other storytelling communities, whose readers have been reduced to clicking icons like "thumbs-up" and "stars," Jungle age asks for substance when leaving comments.

It is like attending a writing workshop and getting improvement suggestions - for free.

I have faith that behind the seemingly featureless page are stories that deserve a reading. For these tales are masterfully spun, and whose tapestries deserve to be seen by all. I have met visionaries, whose discipline to pursue the chapters of their work is unrivaled. I have spoken to young writers, eager to learn and practice the craft.

"One day, you'll become a great writer," I once wrote to a seventeen year old storyteller.

Many of the great works I began reading when I first stepped foot on Jungle age are still far from their ending chapters. There is the challenge of refinement, and direction the tale have to take. But in all the days I logged in - and nights spent drowned in stories, some narratives were weaved so beautifully and with clarity; the author decides to take them out of the loom.



Hey, everyone! I just wanted to give you all a special update on "Staying Human." Not only have I finished writing the story, I've been able to publish it as well! Right now, it is available to download from Smashwords.com for FREE! It will also soon be available on Amazon.com in print for $4. Thank you all, I couldn't have done this without all your encouragement and support. Every vote, and comment meant more to me than you could ever imagine. If you want, go download the story and share it with your friends- I need all the exposure I can get! 

Looking back as one of the collaborators, to see through someone's work getting published is a reward unto itself. Like an infant gently ushered out of the womb, a writer's joy, in some ways becomes mine as well.

Situation Critical

Job requirement includes tracking down the volume of work coming to the office, and if this is adequate to keep everyone in my team earning - to support themselves. 

Unfortunately, reports indicate that less than half of the agents go home with commission. The rest have to make do with their salaries, which, is slightly higher than what average high school teachers receive in a community private school.

The truth however is duller than what we are ready to accept. The year has not been good. Spreadsheet files - one after another - reinforce this fact. It's like fighting a losing battle; a hard-to-swallow pill meant to keep everyone afloat. But at the back of everyone's head, there's an uneasy possibility of retreat, of folding up. 

The losing streak is partly because the company still adheres to an obsolete business model, whose products no longer appeal to the market. We saw this coming many years back - before smartphones were the standard of social contacts. But lacking urgency and will to overhaul the system, I relied on the company decision makers for instructions. 

My task is to make their visions real.

I go to work everyday afraid to ask the most basic of questions: "Did you hit quota for the day?" The answer already shows in their resigned faces, or in the wordlessness of their mouths just before leaving the office. If not for the pleasant vibe of the boss or the stress-free work environment, no one can stand the feeling of the noose tightening around one's neck. 

Minsan nga, I really wanted to ask how they cope with the pay they're getting and still able to meet their loan obligations. But I refrain to raise the inquiry at the last minute out of fear of cracking the shell they cocooned themselves in. They have their ways and I have mine. What I cannot stomach sometimes is that I am still receiving the highest pay and still afford to take long naps when my reports are done.

Life isn't fair and I know that.

There are times, I am tempted to jump ship. Swim, before I get sucked into the vortex. I am itching to send my credentials elsewhere, and with the treasure trove of wisdom I gained from running the company, I'm most certain to be a prized talent somewhere.

Anywhere.

But loyalty aside. I cannot abandon the cradle that nurtured me these past half decade. Not when I can still make a difference if discipline decrees so. May diskarte naman ako, and I've been speaking to clients since Elance taught me to look for other means of earning. It's just that, after all these years, I've never learned to stand up and take control. 

I've always been someone's wingman.

The situation at work will stay critical for quite sometime, and I'm counting the days when the boss would ask me to accept a pay cut. As for me, I would hold on - long enough until I see my colleagues having the means of earn outside the workplace. Or when someone calls the shots - God forbid - and ask each and everyone to take their final bow. At least, in the future, when I get interviewed in a start-up company or a government post, I can always say to my new liege. 

"I made sure everyone was able to take the last boat out." 

"I chose to go down with the ship."

Meanwhile:

I have a meeting with my web designer on Sunday. I have a few more ideas that I'll run by him and let you know where things stand. 

Thanks for your patience and your continued work on my projects. 

I can only see you running one of my organizations in the future. You are incredibly talented.

Have a great weekend.

The client

  

Tactical Fall Back

Hi Wash

I regret to inform you that I have failed to transcribe the audio files you have sent.

I did my best to understand, and faithfully write the lecture, but the lecturer proved too challenging to comprehend. It might be because I am not a native British English speaker, or I cannot simply put into writing what the lecturer with a Russian (?) accent tried to convey.

Audio quality is another issue - my technical know-how limits my ability to enhance the audio files.

Attached are the partially completed notes I did. I hope the next contractor will be able to use them.

Again, my deepest apologies. Thank you for your patience.

Yours truly,

There is a universe of difference between writing and listening. 

One requires creation, the other, follow without question. Now that I recall, dictation is not really my strength. I used to copy notes from other students during lecture. I have no patience to listen, much more, to understand.

I have long accepted that I cannot do the job. Yet, to walk away without putting up a fight isn't really my idea. I do not know how much effort, or drive did I put in this project but at the very least, it was a collective decision. My work buddy, Allan agrees with my evaluation.

"Continue bidding," My boss said, when he caught me staring at the wall one morning. "If you only knew the price of my failings, employees lost jobs because of my wrong moves."

I looked at him without saying a word. I was too embarrassed to admit my limitations.

  

Much as I would like to think that I did the right thing: to let the client find someone else who is more suitable for the job, and to spare myself from performing below expectations, there is now an unmistakable scar that will haunt me every time I bid for a freelance job. I was given the opportunity and then ditch it because it cannot be done.

But I know too, that this has happened before. That my decision to give up not only lead to the cessation of obligation, I found myself happier with my choice. 

From my one-week stint as a cadet in the COCC program; to the walk out I did during my first call center job; to my decision not to push through with the SEO writing with another client; to the one-week love affair with someone before the Ex. The next chances proved to be the sweet spot.

Following the boss' words of wisdom, I decided not to retreat from bidding. As we negotiate new terms with Wash, somewhere in cyberspace the search continues.

Hoping the next time a client takes notice of my credentials - the professional services I am to perform is something drawn, closer to the heart.

Patience

Ang sabi ko dati, kaunting tiyaga lang at magbubunga rin ang katamaran ko. Sino ang mag-aakala na napaka-competitive pala ang makipag-bid ng projects, lalo na at may karanasan at work experience ang karamihan sa mga bidders? At sino ang hindi mafru-frustrate pagkatapos ng mga negotiation na wala rin pala patutunguhan?

Hindi man halata ngunit nagpapanic ako. Nagpapanic dahil nakikita ko ang nangyayari sa workplace at alam ko na kinakailangan ng pagbabago. Nag-intay ako, at umasa na sa bawat pagsali sa bidding, may isa - ang magkakamali (o tatama) na i-consider ang aking proposal. I even had to lower my price and shorten the turn over delivery just to make the cut.

And it worked.

Dumating man ang panahon na muling makabangon ang kumpanya, at ako ay maging tunay at deserving na project manager. Babalik-balikan ko ang isang Lunes ng madaling araw na may isang katrabaho na nagngangalang Allan ang tumawag sa aking telepono upang ibalita na sa amin na-award ang project.

Tatlong oras man ang tulog at laspag ang diwa, pakiramdam ko pa rin ang tamis ng tagumpay.