Khöeeshelle Annn (Part II)

The ultimate goal of any type of work in a capitalist soceity is to make sure to rake in as much money as possible straight to the capitalist's pockets. That the ones who do the raking in of said financial gains—the workers—can sometimes maybe earn something for him- or herself is entirely accidental.
    Khöeeshelle Annn grasped this simple concept very early on in her corporate career. For this, she was very much spared from the disappointments that she would have otherwise endured. With her expectations properly managed, she was actually able to enjoy her work, finding fulfillment in the small triumphs that came out of her day-to-day efforts. More importantly, she met new friends.
    They were not necessarily co-employees—not that they needed to be in order to develop closeness with each other—but working for more or less equally profit-eager employers, they all shared similar experiences and professional frustrations.
    There was Revvekhah, whose affinity for food was only matched by her high fashion sense; Mimi, who never had a boyfriend her entire life and had a strange but amusing sense of humor; Felibelle who everybody knew would be disgustingly rich one day; and Juleiy who had 2 pairs of every shoes, clothes, and accessories she'd ever owned, and was acknowledged as the most intelligent of the bunch.
    Despite these superficial differences though, the girls had much in common with each other. One of these is that they had their own distinct way of getting back at the greedy system for overworking them at only the slightest amount above the legal minimum wage.
    Every last Friday of the month, they would put in five minutes less of their required work hours and cap their week in their favorite spot in Ayungin. True, it allowed them to reclaim only a small fraction of their work week, but so what? What was more important here was the idea of cheating their employers, for a change, instead of the other way around—which was alarmingly all too common for lowly workers like them.
    It was in a small place called the "Ninth Dash Eatery". It was owned by a distant aunt of Mimi's, and was popular among these chain of islands by the welcome sign hanging by its door that said:

The owner prided herself with some knowledge of recent history, and would not hesitate to indulge anyone who would care to ask how her establishment had got its name. It was a very funny story actually, concerning imaginary dashes and foreign leaders who magically lost the ability to measure.
    Too bad, Khöeeshelle Annn and friends had very little interest in recent history. They were instead much more partial to the good food being served in this establishment, good company, and of course the latest workplace gossip.
    One such last Friday happened to be Khöeeshelle Annn's payday. She was seated on her usual chair, in her gang's usual corner, and her pretty forehead was knit in concentration—in the way it always was when working with numbers.
    "Thrice have I gone over my pay slip," she finally said aloud, "and thrice have I found that something seems not to compute! Why would I earn one thousand less of what I am supposed to receive?"
    Revvekhah, who was next to her, couldn't help commenting. "You're not supposed to be paid for work rendered 6PM onwards, remember? So don't expect payment for those nights you stayed up till 1AM looking for sales."
    Khöeeshelle Annn's brows knit even closer. "I know. And I know that although I put in fourteen hours of work a day, my computation is based only on as if I worked only for eight. Everything else is OTY."
    The girls laughed with minimal amusement, like someone familiar with the concept of OTY would. OTY is a rough transliteration for rendering work with not much as at most a "Thank you" by way of compensation. Like most workers in these labor-justice-challenged times, everyone had experienced working under such terms at one point or another.
    Mimi squinted at Khöeeshelle Annn's pay slip. "Didn't you tell us just the other day that you've received a memo about your company introducing an 'improved' allowance policy? What was that again?"
    Khöeeshelle Annn thought for a moment. "You mean the one about rewarding employees a full day's allowance if they brought in a solid hundred thousand to the company within a week?"
    "Yeah, that one."
    "Except that we are already receiving a full day's allowance! There's nothing improved about that policy at all—except an improvement to their money saving schemes perhaps! They are effectively reducing our daily allowance by half. Honestly, who brings in a solid hundred thousand in a week to any company?"
    The rest of the girls agreed. Their situations were not so different. Mimi in fact had stopped receiving her monthly living pay starting two months ago, when her employer deemed that only agents who could bring in five consecutive twenty thousand contracts in a week were worthy of it. A centavo less, and it was: "Sorry, girls, but you didn't make us as rich as you were supposed to, and so no monthly living pay for you for this period."
    Khöeeshelle Annn continued. "As soon as reading that announcement, I knew that it is nothing but an excuse to reduce the already small daily allowance they're giving us. I'm in the most extreme of luck to be closing a two hundred piece contract at any given day, what more a hundred thousand!"
    Mimi understood where Khöeeshelle Annn was coming from, but eventually, she decided they had to get back to the question of the salary calculation. "So your computation already considers this no full day allowance?"
    "Uh-huh. I would not be one to begrudge my company all that money they can save by not paying me. I am already resigned to the fate of receiving only half of the allowance I was promised when I've signed up."
    "Where then could the one thousand be?"
    Until this point, Juleiy had not offered her mathematical expertise to this problem. "Let me take a look at that," she said at last, indicating Khöeeshelle Annn's pay advice.
    A very unhealthy yet noneheless delectable dish called "Oil Rig Surprise!" lay in front of Juleiy. In order not to have to move this food away, she simply held up Khöeeshelle Annn's one-page pay advice in front of her face, and processed the figures inside her head.
    Although the most basic pay details were on the document, a lot were still not printed there—possibly to save the company on printing costs. Nevertheless, Juleiy had heard enough details from the earlier exchanges in order to deduce the number of days worked, taxes due, overtime pays if any (there was none), and added benefits (also none).
    It didn't take her long before Juleiy handed back the paper to Khöeeshelle Annn, and said with finality, "You are right to believe that you should be receiving one thousand more than what is printed here. Your one thousand should definitely be there, but for some reason isn't. I think it's a perfect time for you to call up your HR and ask for an explanation."

Rural Dreams

It's in a small rural town, and it seems, perpetually, to have just turned four in the afternoon. It's already late enough that the sun is not that hot anymore, yet not that late yet so the children can still have an hour our two of play in the dusty unpaved roads.
    And play the children do—and as could be expected of children at play in these street games, they would be dirty in their light, thin garments and semi-worn rubber sandals. At any given moment they will be running around after each other, or at times jumping across lines drawn arbitrarily across the brown earth—all in keeping with imagined rules they've come up with themselves. Of course they will be all sweaty—even snotty—but one thing one is not likely to miss will be the smiles on their faces, the delight of being with friends and of being young and having the most minimal of worldly worries beyond the confines of the rules of their games.
    Not far from this play area are the houses—humble, airy shelters made from local materials. Due to long history of flooding during the rainy season, most of these houses are raised from the ground by stilts. When they are, most of these elevated houses find use of the lower level by serving as an enclosure for domesticated livestock. The others at ground level, accessible from the street without the need to climb a ladder, have the bare earth as their very floor.
    The small town can have a name, perhaps from some Catholic Saint—better that than the surname of a recently powerful political clan. But then again it may not. Afterall, this is a town whose identity is derived more from the almost sleepy late afternoon quality of its atmosphere, than from any actual common name.

* * *

As it happens, though, this Rural Town does have a name, and it is named after a recently powerful political clan. In fact, it is the youngest son of this very same political family's patriarch that comes driving up the dusty unpaved rural road this particular afternoon. Except also that he is actually not the one who's driving; this politician-sired individual is being chauffeured by a professional driver in his father's employ.

    Driver and master's son are both in an oversized luxury vehicle with wheels so massive the tread prints of a single tire effectively obliterates the lines on the dirt road where the children play in. Its iridescent body paint with matching chromework, plus spinning rims, give it a stark contrast to the humble surroundings it now finds itself in. That the vehicle is actually more popularly known as the "Humble Vee" should by no means lead one into thinking that it is as the adjective describes. The "Humble Vee", although admittedly is but a provincial imitation of the more expensive, foreign-made original, is no less flashy—and never in any way something within the financial capacity of a villagefolk to own.
    Whether it is a credit to the skill of the driver, or a true sign of the reckless disregard for the lowly lives of people not born into influential political clans, this recently arrived "Humble Vee" screeches to a dusty halt precisely a half inch from a slight-framed girl of four in the process of shooting a marble in the ground.
    If the girl's father has it is his mind to protest the near murder of her eldest child—which he has, by the way, witnessed—his curses in the Provincial Dialect directed towards the politician's son are immediately drowned out by the loud thudding of party music that suddenly emanates from within the big vehicle. As the customized rear passenger scissor door rises open, the common citizens of Akren behold for the first time the youngest son of their constitutionally mandated leader, J. J. Akren.

Khlöeeshelle Annn (Part I)

What differentiates an inspired business decision from pure corporate greed aimed solely at extracting the maximum financial profit no matter what? Apparently in the case of JC Marketing, Inc., nothing much.

As a member of the recently congratulated batch of '17 graduates, Khlöeeshelle Annn applied for employment in the above mentioned company. Within the reasonable wait time for fresh grads to receive an employment application return call, Khlöeeshelle Annn got called for an interview. The job vacancy was for a Sales Agent, and the HR personnel she spoke to informed her that she was perfect for the job. Thus began Khlöeeshelle Annn's road towards becoming an income tax-paying citizen of this nation. And eventually towards a fruitful and successful corporate career.

Except that this last wasn't really the case... at least with this first job. For one, the employment term was on the basis of a five month temporary contract that was only in effect practically for as long as Khlöeeshelle Annn could haul in a steady stream of money for her employer. For another, the compensation was a meager 8 pesos above the minimum wage, no Health Benefits until "regularization", no paid leaves until the same, and had an automatic 33% contribution to an Absentee Insurance.

The Absentee Insurance. If patenting such innovation didn't cost so much, JC Marketing definitely would have had it registered already. It was brought about by past history of absenteeism among JC Marketing employees--often to secretly explore career opportunities elsewhere. This prompted the brilliant account officers of JC Marketing to identify a possible risk of potentially losing prospected income when their agents didn't report for duty. The Absentee Insurance virtually liberated the employees from any form of limitation when it came to absences, while at the same time ensured earnings for the owners.

One cannot truly blame Khlöeeshelle Annn, therefore, when on the day of her contract signing, there was a momentary hesitation upon coming across this particular bit of salary deduction.

"I know 33% percent is a considerable chunk of solid hard earned money," the HR said, noticing this hesitation. "but you see, the deduction is merely a way of discouraging absenteeism. If you give the company no reason to use the Absentee Insurance, the money just pools into a Retirement Fund. And this Retirement Fund will be given to you if you complete 20 consecutive years of profitable service."

33% of an income, with almost guaranteed increases in the span of 20 years, and multiplied by a factor of the same number of years of service, seemed too much for a quick mental math for our young aspiring professional. One thing was certain about it, though, and that was it amounted to a considerable future sum. She fought the hesitation, and upon signing the allotted spaces on the contract, Khlöeeshelle Annn could almost feel herself being physically transported from the ranks of the Unemployed into becoming a First Time Sales Agent.

* * *

It didn't take long for Khlöeeshelle Annn to start suspecting that there might possibly be a minor mistake in her decision to accept the JC Marketing offer. Day 1 of her deployment she received an urgent text from HR asking her where she was, the New Hires' Orientation was to begin in 5 minutes.

"But I'm here in Ayungin, bright and early for my first day of duty," she replied with enthusiasm and only the slightest of mounting worry.

"Why? We emailed you that there is going to be an orientation today at 8 AM. Didn't you check your mail?"

It was true that Khlöeeshelle Annn had been advised to maintain an internet account, and regularly check her email for any memos or additional instructions from the Head Office.

"I checked yesterday," replied Khlöeeshelle Annn, "and I didn't find any such instruction from the company. My sincerest apologies. I might have missed it."

"Well of course you would miss it! Why check from yesterday's mail? I sent the announcement an hour ago."

The gravity of the injustice--specially highlighted by the impossible italics in the HR officer's SMS--struck at the very pit of Khlöeeshelle Annn's existence, that she felt suspended in spacetime for fifteen full seconds. When she regained her orientation and self awareness, she typed--unitalized--through the SMS function of her mobile phone a powerless whimper:

* * *

Sure, Ayungin is well within the 200 Nautical Miles Exclusive Economic Zone of the Philippines (and to anyone with a  minimum set of eyes and a properly functioning brain, it sure as hell belongs to it), but still it is a good 7 hour travel from there to the JC Marketing, Inc. offices. Khlöeeshelle Annn started as soon as she could. To save time, she even started writing her Letter of Apology, Incident Report, and Authorization to Deduct Salary as soon as getting on the boat. All three were of course required of her by the HR, intended to minimze--if possible--whatever impact such neglectful conduct had on her probationary status.

Khlöeeshelle Annn arrived at the JC Marketing headquarters with only one hour left in her orientation. Good thing she had taken a taxi all the way from the ferry port to the office, she had made it right on time for the last topic on the orientation deck. The ride itself cost her 15,000 plus PhP, but she believed this could be reimbursed from her employer. (Poor girl, how wrong could she be!--but of this... later.)

As it happened, the last topic being discussed was on Disciplinary Actions. On that last hour, she learned that yes, this latest mishap on her very first day of work warranted a Disciplinary Action, and no, mere Incident Report, Letter of Apology, and Salary Deduction were not punishment enough. In fact the offense would be stamped indelibly in her Employment Record, which would be promptly distributed among major and minor corporations nationwide.

Most importantly, given that she was now under disciplinary action, any costs she incurred--be it travels, meals, and the like--they would no longer be reimburseable from her employer. If she was still holding on to her 15,995 PhP taxi receipt, now would be the right time to throw it to the nearest waste bin.


(to be continued...)