Now this is what I like in developed countries, it is rare that consumer complaints are not responded to. At the very least you will receive an apologetic letter and most likely, you get compensated.

When I blogged about my nightmare trip home via c2c, I said I will file a complaint & I did. I received a proper email response after 7 days. The letter was long. The girl explained what caused the problem, what action they took to resolve it, and admitted to their shortcomings. At the very end, she asked that I give them suggestions on how to better improve their services and also send them an address they can send some compensation through. I did. I outlined some suggestions like linking directly with the bus companies and other train operators to mitigate severe disruptions like what we experienced. And of course I included my home address.

Yesterday I received 3 rail network vouchers worth £10 each! Well, those more than covers the extra £6 I forked out to get home that horrible night. I looked at the expiry dates and they are valid for a year. Great. I’m certainly one happy compensated passenger.

I also got similar treatment from Amazon. I pre-ordered the clip-on iPod Shuffle and the site said it will be delivered after 3 weeks or something. It was for hubby’s xmas gift last year. Only when November arrived did I realise that the player hasn’t arrived. I checked my Order Status and there was no comment, I checked my email addresses in case I missed a notification, I didn’t. I wrote a strongly worded complaint to Amazon. To cut the story short, they gave me a £5 voucher to spend on Amazon as compensation for the delay & their lack of feedback.

I doubt if I can ever expect this level of customer service in Pinas, unless you scare the hell out of them.

The other day I sent an email to everyone in the office & I used LMK (i.e. Let me know) at the end. Our COO, whom I adore, asked me later on what it meant. Then laughed when I told him.

Working in IT I just always fall in the ass-u-me role all the time when it comes to things like these.

When I was inducting a couple of DLSU interns years ago, I used “FYI” in a statement. A hand came up asking what it was. I “assumed” they knew because presumably they’re into texting (they won’t stop even when told & most of them are brats) and also chats.

Oh well.

On the otherhand, I often encounter NB (nota bene) here in London. Normally in Manila, we tag them as spelled out “note:”. Maybe NB is used in Pinas, too I just didn’t encounter it in my former workplace?

Tumingala ako sa tube the other day & my eyes were greeted by ads to visit the Bahamas, or Cairo, or to go home to Turkey or to other exotic destinations in the world. Nagkalat yung mga posters everywhere.

So pag-naaalala ko ang print ads ng London, yan ang unang papasok sa isip ko – travel, breaks, holidays.

Pag naman naisip ko ang print ads ng Pilipinas, ang pumapasok sa isip ko “bawal magkasakit” o kaya yung mga lukot na mukha for diatabs ads.

Economic differences? Dahil “mayaman” na bansa puro “gumastos ka” ang advertisement. Sa atin naman “iwasan mong magastusan”.

I was at the bus stop at 6am this morning. A woman in a tight vest arrived & sat in front of me. Her cleavage was on show but then I thought it was too dark.

I looked again & to my horror, – and yes, disgust, I realised she’s got chest hair! And they’re like a man’s! Very curly & dense. Oh come on! Wax woman, wax! I can’t imagine being faced with that this afternoon in a super-packed, boiling hot Tube.

This blog has been a diary of sorts for me. This is where I air my dirty laundry and some very personal information. (At some point I need to back up my entries for posterity.)

All these times I thought I’m anonymous. I forgot a college buddy learnt about this blog from another blog I read whose owner turned out to be an officemate of hers. Oh well. There goes the mystique.

Written on 20 September 2002

Charity is a fad here in London. Most British celebrities support one or more charities. They also like creating new ones. Like the late Princess of Wales, they donate money and promote the institutions they support. The charities vary from whales, environment, and child abuse to cancer research. You read about it because the proponents make sure it’s publicised, maybe to gain more supporters for their group or maybe for their own image projection.

UK also has tons of commercials, ads and events to drum up support. They have people on the streets with pails asking for your excess pennies. They have billboards saying, “for £1 a day you can put a child to school” or variations of that. There’s always a new PR or “marketing” ploy out here every week. Most of the time, they depict the hungry children in parts of Africa. They show videos of the people living in garbage dumps, people of countries mostly associated with the British Empire years ago.

I always tell myself in occasions I see such ads, “Yeah, I can do that. I can give them a pound a day”. I wanted to make a difference because it hurts to see people live in such conditions. It hurts to know so many children do not stand a chance in this world and that most of them will never escape poverty. I feel guilty.

I can’t help remembering my own country. I can’t help remembering we are – I am from, the Third World. A European colleague once asked me why many Filipinos work here and I answered because UK pays better. Too many ignorant questions later, I finally told her “because Philippines IS a Third World country, people want to look for better opportunities abroad”. That shut her up; after all she also came from one of the poorer parts of Europe.

I wanted to bleed with cash whenever I see charities asking for support. But I’d rather bleed for my own Land. And rather than bleed for strangers, I’ll bleed for my own blood first.

Negative muna

I can’t stand dopey people. I can take & even enjoy dopey conversations but not when the person you’re talking to actually thinks he/she’s being smart.

It is highly possible I’ve got an attitude problem but I have zero tolerance on stupidity. If you have shown someone how to work a kettle once, I’d expect them to know it in one second. It’s not that difficult unless you have a learning disability. But what I hate most are people who don’t listen but will nag you every minute to show them how it’s done – again.

I disdain dimwits. I cannot suffer fools. Yes I am acting all high & mighty but there is no worst torture for me than listening to stupid people who think they’re the bomb. And before anyone points it out, yes I can be stupid too.

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My lifetime’s work

I finally found time to put all my work files & extra-curriculars in one place. I have yet to back them up on a disc for safe keeping but I’m getting there. I was also able to collate my contact list from PAB to Outlook 2003 Contacts. Now all I need is to export them also for safe keeping.

Anyway I’ve been reading my works since 1997 & had a bit of flashbacks. I am getting old. Age shows in my works. I would like to say maturity but really the big change is my focus. Before it was all parties (& men) but now… Well some people will say focused on more boring stuff
:-)

The Little Prince would say “matters of consequence”. Time really flies.

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On the tube post…

When I was pregnant I started noticing expecting mums everywhere. There was a time I’d see at least 2 a day. I’m sure the Universe has been like this even before but, suddenly, I actually “see” them now. Since I have struggled getting a seat on the tube when my tummy was big enough for everyone to see, I am now courteous to the mums-to-be in giving away my seat whenever I can.

But then I committed the most embarrassing mistake I could. I offered a woman my seat when she was not pregnant at all! She didn’t correct me but when I looked again it was highly probable she was just having the same problem as me in the “extra pouch” department.

London Underground has started a button campaign that pregnant women can wear which announces their state to everyone & will give them “power” to boot anyone out of their seats. But it didn’t catch on. Women today are too proud. And most critics said it was too condescending to women. Oh well. Good intentions, bad move.

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My son, my son.

The light of my life made me really proud today & he doesn’t even know it. I’ve known Mother’s Pride since I gave birth. I know my son is special & he can be really cute & handsome. I am also aware he’s smart for his age… Ok Ok please let me go on. He’s my son! hehe

We arrived 10 minutes before the Nursery’s official opening time. We went to the reception instead, to escape from the freezing morning air. Sister Margaret arrived at the same time. She’s really nice, she knows all the kids in the nursery, as in individually not just by face. That’s no mean feat as there are least 50 kids at any given day.

Anyway it was too early and the staff were just having a morning chat. pogiBoy, my boy, was looking around the place & was pointing to statues & other bric-a-bracs. Then I heard Sr. Margaret talking to one staff about pogiBoy. She said (verbatim) “…he’s a really bright boy, at his age less than 2, you can tell. He’s always playing with puzzles & he puts the pieces in the right shapes…” At that point you can probably tell I was floating & beaming.

My son, my hero.

London Underground is my main transportation to work. For 5 years I know it can leave me drained, smelly, angry, frustrated, trapped, — stressed! I’ve had near miss fights. I’ve had a few elbow-run-in’s & a couple of groping hands.

For lack of something to write I will start a journal of what I think are “interesting” events in my tube journey.

In New York and Melbourne a lot of women in business suits wear sneakers/running shoes/trainers (british slang) to work. Here the practicality is just beginning to appeal the Londoners. So often you’d see women in killer stilleto heels running up & down the escalators. You’d also see some of them tumbling over, most get their heels stuck in the wedges of the floor. Foolish but it’s their choice & their ankle at stake, so who cares?

What irritates me are those women who insists on crossing their legs whilst sitted in the train. Their foot gently hitting your leg if you happen to stand in front of them. Most often people would trip if they pass them on the way in/out.

So ayan ang nangyari kahapon. Some blonde who thinks she’s really cool & fashionable in her suede boots kept her foot aloft a-bumping my leg, asking for revenge. Sitting down, I stepped on her foot only just slightly to annoy her. It worked, I was polite so I said sorry. On the way out, aba nakaharang pa din ang paa, I stepped on her foot again – hard.

The “westerners” (i.e. europeans & north americans) always, always go for small talk when we bump into them. On weekdays at the water cooler the typical opener is “How are you?”. You’re expected to respond with “great, blah… and you?” then you go your separate ways.

Ah but on Monday morning or after a long weekend, the opener is “How was your weekend?” (On Fridays after work, the pub talk starts with “any plans for the weekend?”. The answers to this question are varied, it can be a curt “It wasn’t bad, you?” to a long retelling of what fish they caught or movies they saw. Me, my favorite answer before was “it was very relaxing”.

Pre-baby, my weekend ritual was to breeze thru housework, finish whatever I was reading during the week, watch telly AND spend hours & hours relaxing. I take long baths complete with bubble bath, oils, salts & candles to finish my aromatherapy. I spend weekend time on myself. It’s even better if my husband is off-duty on weekends. We give each other massages & I get him to give me a foot spa!

Two-years after my little boy and I can only sigh. With a toddler in the house, there is no relaxing. Not even during his naps, the only time I can fit in some housework. One- to two-hours of washing dishes and cooking meals/merienda, loading the laundry & ironing the clothes. And of course weekend is family time. We go out, we play in the park, do family things.

I cannot contemplate taking out my foot spa materials, it will attract my son like a fruit to a fly. Aromatherapeutic baths? Well if you count playing in the bath with my son, then yes, I still do that. I can’t even go to the loo alone now.

For what it’s worth, I love the weekends even more. Sure there’s less ‘me’ time, but there’s more ‘love’ time.