Vash

Wasn't able to blog for more than a week. The PC at home was on the blink and there was so much work at the office last week that I couldn't even sneak to the pantry for a quick snack, let alone open my blogspot account. My time was spent training, training, training, which wasn't so bad actually -- my trainees were a fun bunch -- except that my voice got hoarse and I was left with hardly any chance to get my creative (and other) juices flowing.

I hate it because I made a promise to myself that I would blog consistently -- at least once a week -- even if it meant sacrificing some valuable "me" time, i.e. playing volleyball, watching 4400. One good thing though: My friend, the Mel Man, came to Manila for a quick visit (I wonder why) and, because I'm now a blogger, gave me a gift: an Olympus Fe230 with 7.1 megapixels. Not brand new, admittedly, but still quite a generous gift, which is why though I miss him terribly and want him to leave anesthetizing Singapore for good, a part of me is also happy that he decided to become an OFW in the first place. After all, it's his hard-earned Singapore dollars that allow us to have wine and cheese in some of the fancier bistros in the metro whenever he's around. Usually, my other pals and I just have gin guyabano and Tortillos.

Now if only someone would give me a laptop, too!

Speaking of training, I had to break a few hearts yesterday. Hard as they tried, 3 out of the 14 guys in my class just didn't deliver in the final assessment and were thus not admitted into the account. It's always difficult for a trainer to see some of his trainees fail -- I always have to ask one of the account product trainers to break the sad news of their failure to them -- but, as much as I want all of my students to make it, some of them just aren't cut out for the call center industry. I mean, how can they survive on the floor when the only parts of speech they know are nouns and verbs, and only the base forms of verbs to boot?

I was actually rooting for one trainee yesterday -- though I knew the odds were stacked high against him -- if only because his was a different sort of sob story from the ones I usually hear. His name was Vash -- though he pronounced it Bash -- and he came from a public school in Dasmarinas, Cavite. He'd worked before as a sewer in a garment factory, and he obviously yearned to rise above his circumstances. Just like many Filipinos too, he believed that a call center job was the ticket to a better life.

And yes, he was also gay. This actually didn't come home to me until the second half of the first day when we had a storytelling activity. In this activity, everyone had to demonstrate his command of verb tenses by talking about his scariest experience. Naturally, most everyone talked about ghosts and muggings -- what Simon Cowell would call "safe answers" -- but Vash bravely shared a more personal story. According to him, when he was still in high school, he had waist-length hair, which apparently (though I found it hard to imagine) made him look like a girl. One day, coming home from a party, he took a jeepney that, the hour being late, carried no other passengers. Halfway through with the trip, the driver suddenly turned left and drove his jeepney to a dark spot behind some trees. Then he faced the scared Vash and told him -- in Tagalog, I presume, though Vash had to say it in English, after looking at me self-consciously and asking if it was okay for him to go ahead and say it -- "I kill you if you don't BJ me."

Despite having anticipated what he would come out with, I was still shocked by the brutal honesty of that sentence, its unintentional humor, which made the whole class roar in laughter. I must admit, with some shame, that I, too, had to try very hard not to laugh, even though I knew what happened to Vash was terrible. It wasn't just the clunkiness of that sentence, but also the sheer idea of Vash, who wasn't exactly the prettiest gay on the planet, getting sexually assaulted that made that his revelation tickle some cruel funny bone in my and everyone else's body. It's a mean thought, but that sentence probably wouldn't have been half as funny despite its faulty construction if Vash had been the kind of gay who could really pass for a woman and join beauty contests. Unfortunately, he looked like he should be wearing a hardhat. :(

Vash's story, sadly, didn't end there. After the rape, Vash plucked up enough courage to call one of his teachers, who advised him to file a complaint. When he went to the police station however, the policemen just laughed at him and told him to forget about it. "Okay lang yun," they said, probably with a sneer on their faces. "You're gay anyway."

After hearing that story, my heart went out to Vash, and I tried my best to help improve his communication skills in four days. But it was a lost cause. Not only did he have the kind of b and v defect that would make a North American customer quake in anger and demand an English-speaking agent, he also couldn't string three sentences together.

So, yesterday, during the assessment, I tried to nudge him, in as subtle a manner as possible, towards his other passions.

"You like dancing, don't you," I said.
"Yes, I like dancing very much."
"Don't you want to pursue dancing instead? Maybe you can become a DI."
"I think about before but I have no connection."
"Well, maybe you can go to Japan. I know some people who went to Japan and made a lot of money."
"That is my plan before but not anymore."
"Why?"
"Well, I read that Japan is banned, so I change my mind."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, Japan is banned. Entertainers can't go to Japan anymore."

But of course.

To Vash's credit, even though he didn't pass, he texted me the morning after the assessment. It was a short, simple message, which I'll repeat here to show that one doesn't have to speak flawless English to touch someone else's heart.

"Sir gud morning. Tnx po khit papanu nadagadagn ung knowledge ko..Ahhm sir tnx again ur d best.. Vash po 2."

Thank you, too, Vash. Keep on dreaming.