Sunday, April 12, 2009

What's Tact Got to Do With It?

Corporate drones may be many things, but tactful isn't one of them.

The person seated to my right accused me of being a virgin. I ignored her and told the girl in front of me that she's a blood-sucking vampire. The person to my left joined in the fray by saying that someone in the office was the same age as Tutankhamun.

I creased my brows. "Tutan-who?"

"King Tut, a long dead pharaoh from Egypt," replied the guy on my right.


"Before, I thought 'Siquijor' literally means land of the whore," said the guy seated beside me. He's European. "We're going there on Holy Week."

"You're in for a surprise," said the girl to my right. "Warlocks and mystics will be converging there next week."

He smiled.

Sister Karma, on the other hand, wasn't too amused. On our way down the elevator, we got stuck midway between the 12th floor and the 11th floor. Someone suggested we force open the steel doors. When we did, we found ourselves facing a concrete wall. Next to GMA's inauguration, it's the most depressing thing I've seen in my entire life.

It was then that we realized that we're trapped. There were seven of us in the elevator and we were sweating like hogs on their way to the butcher shop.

While I panic, the people I'm with seemed to be having the time of their lives. They were taking pictures of themselves, cracking jokes, and laughing like we're in a Bar Mitzvah somewhere in Queens.

When someone at the back declared a state of emergency ("Guys, I feel like farting"), reality suddenly sunk in.

The person in front of me turned around, then banged his hands repeatedly on the wall, saying, "Help, help! Let us out!"