Ink Stains and Killer Shoes

Today was the first day of our summer job. I say “our” because it’s a group thing. Basically, there are thirteen of us. G is abroad, KT and M are not qualified for summer jobs yet, A and T have summer classes, RW can’t work there since her mom works there, and C and KL are... I don’t actually know. That leaves me, K, V, R and N together in our very first summer job. Oh, wait—it’s R’s second, she worked earlier last month in Greenbelt.

So, what do we do? We deal with paper. Lots and lots and lots of paper. We give paper, receive paper, put papers into envelopes, cut, rip, staple, photocopy, stamp... No it’s not the post office it’s SSS.

I don’t really want to write too much, so I’ll just share a few things.

All of us were defeated by the time-in/time-out clock. Oh, ignorance.

Like I said, we deal with paper. There are about thirty kinds of forms and you have to remember where they are and what they’re for. Some have to be stapled, some folded, some given together and some two copies per person, some can’t be given without IDs, etcetera. And then you have to tell them where to take it (5 counters, 2 floors, and one office in San Juan where you have to send the E-6’s).

Then there’s this form called E-4 and it was out of stock. A lot of people were looking for it, so we had to tell them to go to the website, download it, and then print it, fill it up and bring it back. The younger clients would nod, and go off in search of the nearest internet shop. The older ones would frown when they hear the word “internet” (if they hear it at all) and then they would give you this expression that conveys the message “Nah, screw this place.” Generation gap 101.

After the first few hours of issuing the forms, we realized that we needed to acquire mind-reading powers ASAP. Some of the people would just go, “Pahingi ng form,” and when asked which one, they would reply with, “Basta yung *insert various hand movements here* na sinusulatan.” Gee, thanks. That makes my life easier. Oh, yeah, there were stacks of forms a few feet high that we had to fold-rip-staple-stamp-stack. We did this for, oh, two hours, and I seriously felt brain dead until the Accounting Officers started being noisy. We even stamped our hands, just because.

We made a few mistakes, but it wasn’t entirely our fault. The photocopier jammed twice on K, and the document would have gotten to the Officer faster if she just rewrote it. We gave out the wrong forms once in a while due to confusion. And then there were our killer shoes. Read: shoes that kill because of the pain you have to endure while wearing them. I am not wearing them tomorrow, I’ll brave the reprimands.

V was assigned upstairs, so it was me, R, K and N who bonded with each other... and with the dead trees in various colors and sizes.

V also introduced us to one of the other trainees who sounds exactly like G. And kind of looks like her. Which is kind of sad.

Oh, and word of the day: CONDONATION. We had no idea what that meant, and we were breaking it down by etymology, purpose of prefix, and whether or not it had anything to do with donations. All we knew was that it was a word in a form for when you forget to pay for a while. I suggested the root word was “condone,” although for some reason I couldn’t remember what it meant. (Yes, yes, I get it now.)

All in all it was extremely fun. We’re rendered invincible from the summer heat from 8 to 5, and we’re getting paid while having fun—well, most of the time at least. Sometimes killer shoes just suck the happiness out of everything.