It was Thursday, I am meeting my former sports editor at Rockwell. He was to throw a despedida treat for his former staff, seven in all, but only three (somehow) managed to see him, perhaps for the last time. My ex-editor is set to leave for New Zealand next week to stay there for good. He's a sports editor but is never a big fan of chess (they don't sell well, he said blankly). His only interest in publishing are basketball and pool. Both he plays badly but good enough to be called a hobbyist when playing badminton. He can sometimes put up with chess articles, but they are more of a fillers.
As I was hurrying towards his office, so I presume, since its been years the last time I've been there, I heard someone shouts at me "sir, sandali san kayo pupunta? bawal dyan!" I was so disoriented and humiliated and was close to shouting back "t*ng *na mo dito ako (dati) nag ta-trabaho!" :)
On a "visitors" reception hall, I found myself waiting for an appointment. Right, an appointment, for a despedida, and not supposedly invited. Odd. A receptionist sits on the desk. Another odd thing happens. As I shift in my seat, the leather upholstery makes a sound that could be mistaken for a fart. I therefore shift in my seat again, two or three times, making the same sound deliberately in order to demonstrate that I had not inadvertently farted. The secretary looks up inquiringly. She may be just thinking I am uncomfortable. She may, on the other hand, be thinking I have farted, and not once but three times.
It was a great day for eating chankonabe anyway.
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