Tuesday, February 22, 2011

MY OFW MOMENT WHILE I WAS AN OFW

OFW means out. from. work, whether at the OFFICE, FIELDS, (or) WASHROOM. I came home earlier than what I was supposed to be timed in. Bangkok traffic was terrible yet my championship-day-to-a-finalist determination to be at my apartment before five gave me some golden fruit.
       The guard of the dreary-facade condo greeted me. I admired him mainly because he knew some facts about The Philippines and he sang English songs. A Thai man singing classic American is a bliss when you are away from home. I befriended him. Some days, Pratnu was absent. So, my time from stepping up on the concrete platform to the glass door was fast and quick.
       I wanted to be early because the school secretary sent me an e-mail that my teaching demo was on the next day. I was set to be in that school (name withheld, but it rhymes with--Oh no! no word to rhyme with! Sorry, Dina!).
       My necktie, my long-sleeved shirt, my visual aids (crucial job-hunting object!), my purse, my speech.
Ready, prepared. Folded neatly, scotch-taped straightly, placed correctly. According to feng shui, according to plan. Effing, according to destiny's whiplash!
       The two American farangs (Thai word for foreigner.) gave thumbs-up for my demonstration.My lesson was all about Relative Pronouns. I met other Filipinos in the corridor. Jobless Filipinos. One was an experienced teacher in Manila who filed a leave in order to go to Bangkok and feel the velvety contour of success in the land of tuktuk.
       I WASN'T. I DIDN'T GET THE JOB! I felt lost. Ousted from Waiting list (OFW).
       How come? Those two judges--the Americans--like, I saw with my own two eyes that they cast their approval. RIGHT THERE!
       Real story is this: the man hiring was a Tagalog. I was a Bisaya. Uh-oh!

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