Wrong Timing, Bad Timing Redux

Before I go further let me me refresh your memory about this issue with water, and refer you to two previous blog posts I did

https://screamingmango.wordpress.com/2012/06/07/wrong-timing-bad-timing/

https://screamingmango.wordpress.com/2012/06/22/wrong-timing-bad-timing-reprise/

Now, like any service-related complaint, people start out asking nicely, because, popular knowledge has taught us that when we complain about utilities like electricity, water, mobile communication, you need a lot of patience and good nature , with hopes of actually being able to talk to someone who will be gracious enough to really listen and pass along the information to the necessary department or section, for the complaint to be acted upon.

I do know the drill.

August 16,2012

I called Maynilad Hotline 1226 and that sweet voice telling me that my call is on queue and a customer service representative will soon be available to answer the call. For about 12 times, or so. Nevertheless, I tried calling again. Still that same sweet voice, that I know If I had held on a little longer, I would probably try to get details and ask her for a date. But no, no one human did answer the call. Maybe I’ll try email.

August 17, 2012

I got into the website and posted a complaint about the “intermittent” “dirty” and “odorous” water. Tough luck if they reply promptly. The last email I sent them needed a week for a response to come back to me.

Tried Twitter, that omnipresent socia-microblog-turned-gossip-cum-troll-medium and looked for @maynilad and @MAYNILADWATER so that at least people on the other end might be able to see the post  and maybe, just maybe, able to reply. But someone did call me, but only to ask fopr the details, of which, I can clearly remembered including on that email. Oh well, might as well repeat the process orally. And also I got an email saying they will get to it.

IMMEDIATELY.

August 18,2012

Nothing. Stayed at hoe all day Saturday . No Maynilad knocking at my door.

August 19,2012

Still no one comes a-knocking on my door.

August 20 and 21, 2012

Now, I am employed so I won’t stay at home to wait for a spiffy Maynilad personnel to knock  on my door and as k about the complaint. Scuttlebutt says there was someone looking around but only asked Aling Rose, at the sari-sari store about the water being murky and intermittent. Said person made snide comments saying I was makulit about the complaint. These and the snide remark will be logged as  August 22,2012

So here goes:

A Weekend of Silence

Never thought that I would treasure silence and being left alone this much.

The week passed with a day spent waiting at the Mandaluyong precint, then jump into a cramped in a sweaty, smelly police car, being transported to somewhere someone thought the suspect maybe living or hiding. Or both. Stuck there with five policemen, the baranggay officials,all seems to give me hope. Hope at finding a killer. The rain seemed to add to the melancholy and anger and frustration. While the Marikina river rises, flood waters are filling most streets and alleys, I was getting cold from the rainwater, the aircon and the feeling of getting into something I’d prefer not to. The photo they found proved to be a close match, but the suspect wasn’t there. And the process of going back to Mandaluyong seemed to take forever. All the while I’m catching a glimpse of what police life is – the machismo, the womanizing, the same frustration everyone feels about not being able to do anything because of the lack of funds while generals and superintendents wnd their families enjoy and wallow in their posh living. Sometimes cops do, wish to find a suspect red handed, and do with him what we all dream of – executing with extreme prejudice. But all they can do is work within the law. These cops are very much like everyone else. Same gripes with authority, same simple enjoyments, same male aggression and lusts, same ideals that somewhat got trampled by the system. The only difference is they have guns.

And the media.

Sometimes I’m puzzled by the sheer diligence and determination of Alex Santos. I was  in touch with Andrea Bautista, Macel halili and Alexa Reyes, but mostly only if I feel that I would not hinder anything with the investigation. I’m sure the news are only doing their jobs. Heck, I feel our own Tv5 News reporters have the sense not to badger me too much about it. Cops and Media? Not good bedfellows. Trust me on this. But I commend Macel and Andrea and Alexa for being sensitive enough to give me enough space.

You’d think we all know what life cops live? Not even close. There is a certain subculture, much like yuppies and lawyers and Archers and Eagles live. It’s a closed circuit not every person can understand. They find solace in finding kindred spirits, somebody who knew somebody. An affiliation built on military and police connections. Put them where I work and they would probably scratch their heads at what we in the graphic industry might be talking about. They pretty much cuss like everybody else. And they are human too.

Life, As It Unfolds

. . . a bomb exploded in EDSA killing and wounding some 15 passengers. And all I could think of was I could have been in that bus since I was coming from Evangelista.

. . . never knew Johnny Enrile still has it in him to be feisty and smart. Heck, even Jinggoy surprised me. But what interests me is how Trillanes is at the inquiry. The guy is precise and silent. Garcia should be scared.

. . . in the middle of a Senate investigation, Angelo Reyes committed suicide, and people kept saying it was honorable. Yeah, honorable to have eluded real confrontation.

. . . coffee is coffee. 3 in 1 is good. 5 in 1 is good. 8 in 1? Are they insane? What comprises an 8 in 1 coffee mix? Ground coffee, Dragon’s scales, Tiger’s tooth? But I must admit, I had some and it was delicious.

. . . The Azkals won! Awoooooooohhhh! Now guys, don’t get too confident. There are bigger, better opponents out there, but what we lack in height and bench support, we make up for speed and good looks. Good looks count.

. . . and if I hear one more HARA KIRI, I will send a signal to Batman and straighten your ignint heads down. Seppuku is what the Japanese Warriors do when they have fallen from grace and felt they have failed their liege. Seppuku is actually a very hard thing to do, hara kiri is the self disembowelment, thrusting a knife from the right side and slashing to the left, thus disemboweling one’s self, while the opponent warrior must aid his passing and chop off the head. It is with great honor that these warriors perform this out of respect for one another. A gunshot to the chest is just that- suicide.

. . . FM radio just got worse. Bad enough that NU107 just conked out, leaving in it’s wake an army of lonely listeners wanting to listen only to good music. Nowadays it’s pure PERYA DJs on air. All bullshit and not enough brains. And oh! what stupidities these newfangled jocks are dishing out these days.

. . . building my own firm has got me struggling for freelance jobs. But it’s still waaay better than trying to impress someone whose knowledge is limited only inside the studio. Now if I could only finish the game design I have been meaning to put out this year . . .

. . . Exodus is a word that means PEOPLE ARE GETTING SICK AND TIRED OF YOUR WHINING PIECE OF ASS AND THEY ARE BURNED OUT AND WANT TO SEEK A BETTER PAYING JOB. If you had listened before, you’d probably realize Singaporeans are just all talk! Sheesh! People respected and took your word as written in stone, but you, YOU! in all your posturing and promises FAILED to deliver. WHATCHAGONNADONOW?

. . . Eton workers died from an overloaded Gondola. Another Eton project collapsed a while ago. Must be an Eton thing, things falling apart around them.

. . . Flickristasindios planning another Outreach Program this year. This group never cease to amaze me. I love these guys. Bravo, Indios!

. . . I have in my hands Jake Magpayo’s Minolta SLR, teamed with my own Canon 300V. Now what to do with these weapons of mass infractions?

. . . And the heat goes on, an on, an on, and then a short shower did a wonderful number tonight, but then it stopped. And the heat goes on, and on, and on . . .