OF AMOUR, TWO WANGS AND FAKE HOOTERS

When I first reported for duty at the DFA, there really weren’t many happenin’ places around the Home Office. Seriously, if you wanted to eat out but couldn’t go far, your choices were limited to a McDonald’s down the block and the microwavable siomai at Mini-Stop.

Sometime during our cadetship, however, construction began on a commercial structure right across the Home Office that raised our collective spirits. The “On this Site will Rise” sign visible from our classroom window promised “44,000 square meters of fantastic retail experience, complete with All-You-Can-Drink Grand Opening, breathtaking lights, great shopping and dining, thousands of tiangge and night market stalls, and non-stop entertainment.” They also said they'd build classy twenty-storey condos on the lot but, really, they had us at All-You-Can-Drink.

Imagine, then, everyone’s disappointment when the whole place became an edifice to epic fail.

Where to begin? How about the fact that the place scheduled its launch almost the same month as the opening of this store you may have heard of - Mall of Asia? Or how about that fact that any commercial area built in front of the Home Office will be just two minutes away from, I don’t know, a brand new MALL OF FREAKIN’ ASIA?

(Great job, Developer's market research department!)

Things might have turned out better if the Developer just made up its mind between Cutting-and-Running and Screw-it-Build-It-and-They-will-Come. No, the developer seemed to half-ass the whole thing, so the project went from this artist's rendition. . .

. . .to the stark reality. . .

(I imagine the conversation between the Developer and the Building Contractor went something like:

Developer: "Some tents, a 44,000 square meter roof, and we're golden"
Contractor: "How about some paint, and interior walls maybe?"
Developer: "Well now you're just talking crazy"

Incidentally, I know artists' renditions take creative liberties, but wouldn't all those buildings drawn in the background have to be constructed right smack in the middle of Manila Bay? Parking might be a problem, no?)

To be fair, the place in its early days seemed to have a plan and even managed to land a couple of reputable tenants. An amusingly named "anchor" shopping center was opened with hopes of drawing people in with the widest selection of...um...knockoffs. Jollibee, Chowking, Max’s and Chicken Bacolod also set up shop, no doubt to take advantage of – as the place’s website put it – “the Department of Foreign Affairs where thousands of people visit everyday to secure their passports, visas and other foreign documents.”

(Yes. That’s what we do. The Home Office. Of the Philippines. Issue visas and other foreign documents. To Filipinos. Thousands of them.)

(And, BTW, those thousands of people? They all go through the Home Office from the OTHER SIDE of building, the side going AWAY from the commercial center. Just thought the marketing research department should know.)

Just as quickly, all those franchises shut their doors and pulled out. Now that’s saying a lot, because have you ever heard of a Jollibee closing down? Me neither.

It's not like the people at the Home Office didn’t patronize the establishments. Believe me, we did. But, apart from the abovementioned blunders, the developer simply did too many things that tempted the shopping gods. Bad karmall, if you will.

First, an SSS office was supposed to be built on-site. This would have been a good public service and guaranteed a steady stream of foot traffic (aside from those thousands of foreign document wielding Filipinos, of course). For whatever reason, however, the SSS office never opened, and in its place they put up…

...that’s right, Karaoke baby! (and from what I’ve heard from our Protocol people, overpriced Karaoke at that)

Second, the developer ringed the area with streetlamps so gaudy they would make German Moreno blush. I even took to naming those bad boys…

..."The Standard Chartered"...

..."Effeminate Jenga"...

..."Pinhead from 'Hellraiser.' "

(I swear, those lights were put near the DFA to help our diplomats find their way home in a storm)


Last, and most egregious, the developer hinted to – nay, teased! – half the Home Office that the place would house the restaurant franchise to end all restaurant franchises…

Alas, what actually opened bore the same name, served the same wings, and used the same shorts, but everyone could tell, even from afar…dem ”Hooters” ain't real.

(Moment of silence)


Today, the complex is mostly a shell. Oh sure, there’s a Goodah! around, even a large handicraft store and a used car lot. But for the most part, the complex still looks like a place you’d house a thousand badminton courts. Or NFA rice.

Yet everyone at the Home Office still roots for the place’s eventual success. For every time diplomats pass it during lunchbreak it is said: There but for the grace of Henry Sy go we.

TOPS THE BAR!

(As I write this, the results of the 2008 Bar are just hours away from release, and thousands of aspiring lawyers will, for better or worse, soon have a "How Did You Find Out?" story to tell. I thought I'd finally put pen to paper...er...keyboard to cyberspace and share my own such story. As Simon Cowell would say, it's all a bit self-indulgent, but screw it, it still gets a laugh whenever I tell it, and it's actually a testament to my lameness.)

*************************************

It’s the ‘90’s. The Battle for Bar Supremacy in the post EDSA-era rages on between U.P. Law and Ateneo Law. For eternal glory and all that.

The two schools fought to a standstill over the last five or so bar examinations held in the decade, almost alternating at the top every year. The year I take the exam, U.P. is the reigning champion (albeit by split decision), giving hope for a rare back-to-back win over our arch-rival. Our own faculty, however, doesn’t think highly of our batch, basically writes off the year to Ateneo, and openly looks to our underclass for future salvation (kind of like Rick Moranis in "Parenthood" when he tells Steve Martin to give up on his older kid and just work on the youngest).

These are also the dark ages of communications, where PLDT is still hyping “Zero Backlog”, cell phones are despised status symbols of social climbers, and not many people know of “that internet thing.” So to get news of the Bar, you have to either brave the crowds and go to the Supreme Court personally, or hang around a phone and agonize over every ring (and non-ring).

When word spreads that our bar results are about to come out, I decide to wait someplace by myself where no one can find or contact me; I don't want to be like other examinees who deliberately gather in large numbers on result night. My thinking: well and good if everyone in a group passes, but what if even just one person in the room fails? Awwwwwwkkkwwwaaaaaarrrddd.

So on the night of the release of the Bar results, I find myself in Glorietta, eating by myself in Delifrance, and catching the last full show of "Sabrina" to kill time. I plan to head over the Supreme Court after the movie, when the crowds at the court have thinned, and take the results like a man: alone and in the dark.

I get to the Supreme Court. There are still a lot of people around, but I have a clear path to the bulletin board where the names of all those who passed are posted. I see several clusters of strangers nearby: some happy, some sobbing, some happy and sobbing. I feel vindicated by my “go solo” strategy already.

On the bulletin board is something like 20 sheets of paper, posted two high and maybe ten wide. The first sheet on the upper left portion of the board lists the topnotchers - the examinees with the ten highest scores. The rest of the sheets contain a long alphabetical printout (dot matrix!) of all those who passed the Bar, about a thousand names total.

I immediately look for my name in the alphabetical listing. I see it. My full name is right there: “Mr. Lame Lawyer” (editor's note: not my real full name). I give myself a silent “Yes!” and fist pump.

Next, I check which law school topped the Bar. I look at the uppermost (and only the uppermost) portion of the topnotchers’ list, and immediately see the name of our class valedictorian at No. 1. Alright, U.P. Law! Another silent “Yes!” and fist pump.

After finding out who placed first, I immediately go back to the general alphabetical listing of those who passed the exam and proceed to look for the names of my friends, classmates and batchmates. “Hey!”, I say to no one in particular, “almost every name I can think of from U.P. Law is on this list!” (I learn later we had a near 100% passing rate). Because so many passed, it takes me a good 20 minutes to find all the names from U.P. on the list.

Satisfied, I finally turn back to the sheet of paper with the listing of the topnotchers. I smile as I read the name of our valedictorian again at the top. Then, as I go further down the topnotchers' list, I read something . . .

“Mr. Lame Lawyer”.

I take a sharp step back and cover my mouth with both hands.

Putanginaputanginaputanginaputanginaputanginaputanginaputanginaputangina…

Oh my God. I mean, holy…OH MY GOD!!!

I stand there, stunned, for I don’t know how long. Is this for real? Yes! Yes it is! My name is RIGHT THERE! IN DOT MATRIX!

I go further down the topnotchers’ list. A classmate! A batchmate! Another classmate! Another batchmate! And another, and another! Good Lord, U.P. has practically swept the top ten! We've handed Ateneo it's ass! “Yes!” and fist pumps all around!

I can’t really remember - much less describe - all the emotions running through me. All I know is, after a while, it dawns on me . . .

I’m all alone.

I mean literally, I don’t know or recognize anyone around the Supreme Court. There are examinees everywhere, of course, but I don't know anyone. I look frantically around for a familiar face, but THERE IS NO ONE THERE FROM U.P.!

Maybe I can call someone. Oh wait, THERE ARE NO CELLPHONES AND LANDLINES YET!

To recap, it’s one of the happiest moments of my life, and one of the proudest moments of my school, and I can’t find anyone to share the moment with! Not a "Hi", not a hug, not a handshake.

So I’m in a bind of sorts. It’s the scene of my greatest triumph, but no one in the vicinity knows about it. Do I just leave and go home with nary a victory lap? Do I go up to the clusters of happy/sobbing strangers and introduce myself as…ahem…a topnotcher? Do I just shout it out in public crazy person-like?

Now I really regret going solo.

But wait. Who’s that at the street corner getting out of a car? Why, it’s my U.P. Law batchmate “T.A.”! We don’t really know each other that well, but we do exchange "Pinoy eyebrow nod" greetings in the school hallways. He’ll have to do.

But I have to be careful. I don’t think “T.A.” knows if he passed yet, so I can’t just run up to him and rant “Pare, guess what! I topped the Bar! You?”

No, I gotta play this cool.

I stand next to the bulletin board, wait for "T.A.", and give him a plastic “Hey, you’re here too?”. We exchange some pleasantries, but I let him get to the main alphabetical list right away. Better he see my name up there than me tell him about it. I mean, I don’t want to be too much of a douchebag.

“T.A” goes up to the alphabetical list, and immediately sees his name. Yehey “T.A.”! He then looks at the topnotchers’ list and quickly sees our valedictorian’s name at number one. Yehey again! After reading the valedictorian’s name, "T.A." then does me the great pleasure of immediately. . . leaving the topnotchers' list and going back to the main alphabetical list and looking for all of his friends and classmates.

For another 20 minutes.

Dammit. So close.

Now, I can’t play it cool forever, and I am already BURSTING with emotion at this point (I can only liken it to really needing to pee while the gas station attendant looks for the key to the men's room). And as far as “T.A.” is concerned, there’s really no need for me to keep hanging around next to him while he looks for all the names of his friends and classmates. In fact, I’m pretty sure he thinks I’m kind of creepy by now. I even try to speed things up by "accidentally" blurting out the names of our batchmates who I know passed. If he’d only get back to the topnotchers’ list already!

Finally, it looks like he's done with the main list. He inches over to the topnotchers' list again. I stand right next to him. He reads our valedictorian's name again. He goes further down the list. I am ready to explode.

He reads my name out loud.

"Mr. Lame Lawyer".

He then turns to me, looks me straight in the eyes, and says to me point blank in total sincerity...

"Who?"

You know that thing they do in comedies where they build up the pretty music and then suddenly give that scratching needle-jumping-the-record sound effect to show the mood has come to a screeching halt? I'm pretty sure it was invented in my head that very moment.

I can't really blame "T.A.". He only recognizes me by my nickname ("Lame") and not by my full name ("Mr. Lame Lawyer"). And I'm not Big Man on Campus or anything, so not many know me or know of me. But, dammit, this is one of the happiest moments of my life, and I can't hold back my feelings any longer! I have to do something!

"Pare" I shout. "That's ME!"

And then I throw my arms around him and give him the tightest hug possible.

You know that thing they do in comedies where a character goes "Oohhhhh-kaaaaaayyy...." to show he really didn't need or want to know something in a particular way? I'm pretty sure it was invented in "T.A.'s" head that very moment ("Not that there's anything wrong with that..." would also have been an acceptable response).

I quietly left the Supreme Court shortly after that. I made my way home to the love of my family later that night, was actually honored by my school the next day, and milked the glory every day thereafter.

But that night at the Supreme Court with "T.A" forever taught me it's never too early in your career to be reminded how lame you really are.

************************************

Epilogue: One of the cooler things about being among the topnotchers is having your picture appear in the papers the following day. However, depending on the size of the paper - and the skill of the layout editor - the pictures may crowd the front page with the week's big news. In our case, the bar results came the same day several city hall officials had expressed remorse over a fire that destroyed a popular club. So on the day of our ultimate scholastic triumph, one tabloid's cover - I kid you not - read:

sigh

EGG SEASON EXODUS

Like so many chocolate bunnies at an Easter hunt, two more batchmates are quickly gone over the holidays. Their departure was expected, of course, but still came too soon, with too little recognition, and not enough fair distribution of the games, DVDs and magazines they left behind.

(does ‘DIBS!’ mean nothing anymore!?!)

Anyway, adieu to…


JOIN EVASION ‘COS NASA AJAR. Off to Cuba. Good friend, better point guard, best cheater at Starcraft.

And…


NEW MAIDEN, OLD ZIG. Headed to Dubai, where the sprawling desert and lack of vegetation may finally put an end to his stalking-behind-trees pastime. We doubt it.

LADY LAWYERS WE LOVED

It wouldn’t be International Women’s Week / Month after Valentine’s if I didn’t do something that completely missed the point. So I give you one Lame Lawyer’s list of the best broadcast barristers - those sweet solicitors of the small screen whose strength, grace and intelligence convinced many a liberal arts major to think, “Hey, law school might not be that bad!”

Ha.

Pre-bar beauties

I’m not saying these lady lawyers were the reason I went to law school, just a reason. Most of them didn’t even exist in real-life, of course, but the non-law students didn’t know that and so went on with their lawyer lusting. This, in turn, made my 10-hours-a-day in the law library seem just a little bit less nerdy.

So thank you, TV attorneys and your dreamworld depiction of law life. Thank you.

Pam Davidson (Greatest American Hero, 1981 to 1983) - My earliest memory of loveliness in law. Actually, I don’t remember her ever doing anything remotely connected to the legal profession, just that the hero’s sidekick kept calling her “Counselor” and she was willing to roll with a vigilante in red tights. That was more than enough for me.

Joyce Davenport (Hill Street Blues, 1981 to 1987) - I distinctly remember confusing Davenport and Davidson when I was young, even thinking it was the one and the same actress, just older and with oilier skin. Davenport, though, had a much more legally substantive role as a Public Defender (which, as portrayed in the series, apparently entails a lot of snuggling with the local Chief of Police).

Ann Kelsey (L.A. Law, 1986 to 1994) - The series aggressively showcased the Grace Van Owen character, but future lame lawyers knew: Kelsey was the cute one. Incoming law students could easily identify with her awkwardness and struggles as the unsure-of-herself young intern. Oh, and she had "The Kiss Heard Round the World."

The Panyera who used to have an early morning legal talk show (Channel 9, sometime early 90’s) – When I was a law student, I remember waking up earlier than I had to so I could catch a 10-minute talk show that discussed the burning legal questions of the day. Officially, I watched it to brush up on the latest jurisprudence; unofficially, I – and I suspect most law students at that time – just wanted to gaze at the screen and dream of one day sitting on the guest couch across from the gracefully settled Panyera (there was actually a Pugad Baboy strip to that effect). After graduation, a couple of my classmates made it onto the show, and I was jealous as hell. Years later, she asked one of my former bosses to guest, and he had me write his prepared responses to her scripted questions. Most recently, she showed up on TV as real-life legal counsel to Piolo Pascual and Sam Milby.

All told, she couldn’t have kept me away from her more effectively if she got a T.R.O.

Practice of the profession pretties

Strangely – or maybe not so strangely - the moment I actually became a lawyer, I lost most interest in courtroom dramas. Sensing my increasing indifference, Hollywood immediately…um…“intensified” its on-screen lady lawyers, even if it meant sacrificing the last semblance of their credibility. I still didn’t watch that much TV, but whenever these characters came on, you better believe I stopped and took judicial notice.

Lt. Col. Sarah MacKenzie (JAG, 1996-2005)

The only real thing here is the book case.

Bonnie Hane (Ed, 2000-2004)

What? What small town DOESN’T have a prosecutor like this?

Ronnie Cooke (Boston Public, 2001-2005)

Please. Seven-of-Nine was less fictional.

If any of these lawyers exist in real life, I’m Gerry Spence.

(On the other hand, not one but TWO recent real-life U.P. Law honor graduates have become Bb. Pilipinas-Universe . . .

...and have you seen some of the lawyers on reality shows like “The Apprentice”? Great googly moogly...

...And then there’s Queen Amidala herself, who - even as she was fighting Count Dooku - was Alan Dershowitz's research assistant at Harvard, lectured at Columbia University on terrorism and counter-terrorism, and…

...I don’t know what my point is anymore)

Acts and Omissions

Hollywood would have you believe every leading lady lawyer on TV is an object of desire, and you’re actually kind of a jerk if you think otherwise. DO NOT FALL FOR THIS. Not all sassy solicitors are created equal, and it's quite easy to say "Objection!" to some prominent ones.

Clair Huxtable (The Cosby Show, 1984-1992)

Ah, the ‘80s. When hair was huge and M.I.L.F. only meant a secessionist movement in the south. The media insisted the haughty Atty. Huxtable was the most beautiful woman of the time, but it was the seldom-seen Sondra whom my classmates and I really wanted to cross-examine.

Ally Mcbeal (Ally Mcbeal, 1997-2002)

Went from quirky cute to crazy annoying in the span of a mini-skirt.

Miranda Hobbs (Sex and the City, 1998-2004)

On the one hand, Hobbs' character in Sex and the City was smart, witty and attractive. On the other hand, Hobbs' character was in freakin' Sex and the City.

So there you have it. One lame lawyer's list. I tried to come up with a similar enumeration of desirable diplomats on TV, but we all know the discussion begins and ends with a certain famous U.N. Ambassador

What? You were expecting Angelina Jolie?

PRE(SUMPTIVE) DEPARTURE ORIENTATION SEMINAR Week Three

I do nothing if not exaggerate on this blog my importance to the foreign service. I predicted three weeks ago, for instance, that there'd be hell to pay the moment I went off to PDOS. In reality, my office functioned normally, officers and staff covered for me effortlessly, and Pardek's reaction upon discovering I was away at PDOS was a resounding "meh".

Fine. Roll the damn highlights. No one cares.

Week Three

Day One

Gender Sensitivity and Counseling Techniques. Well-intentioned lecture, but with enough outdated and clichéd role-playing games to fill a month's worth of Dilbert.

Day Two


Tourism Promotion. Bohol, Palawan, Davao, Siargao. So many beautiful places to see before I get posted, so many paradises the world has yet to discover.

(this corny dialogue also serves as tenuous segue for a mini post-within-post edition of "Travel Advisory...Not only in the Philippines":

• Explosion at mall (LLDDL immediately checks if VNC is ok)


• Masked gunmen shoot at police


• Attack inside government building leaves many casualties


• Terrorist suspect escapes police custody (happens at CTU all the time)


• "Chop-chop" remains found along roadside.

Good Lord. How'd I get from beach getaways to gruesome tragedies? What's happening to me?!)

Day Three

And sheee wiiiiiilllllll beeeeeee lovvvvved.......and sheeeee wiiiiiiiilllllllll be lo-huh-huh-ovvved

(I'll explain this some other time)

Day Four


Philippine Culture and Values. The speaker emphasized how kind, affectionate and compassionate Filipinos really are, and cited a study showing Pinoys – by a wide margin - say “I Love You” more than anyone in ASEAN (you can almost hear the LLDDL shouting, dapat lang, 'no!)

Day Five


Simulation Exercise, and last day of PDOS. We were given a very limited budget to work with, but still managed to put together some very nice touches, like: 1) the string quartet above (alright, alright, there were five of them, were from the Air Force, and used a Casio keyboard, but they did a killer cover of the Pinoy Big Brother theme song)...


...2) an open bar with FSO bartenders (the 2008 Welch's sparkling grape juice at the bottom left was a prized bottle from my private cellar)...


...and 3) this guy.


I played the pretend host country's foreign minister, and The Evaluators loved my toast remarks. “A toast tour-de-force”, raved Protocol. “One of the best remarks of the simulation season”, gushed the Institution. “I almost peed in my pants”, wept the guy playing the pretend media. If only I actually wrote the remarks myself.


Finally, the simulation closes, and PDOS comes to an end. Because of our bad experiences at graduation ceremonies held by the Institution, my FSO batchmates and I tense up when the names are read, assume we won't graduate, and reflexively plot our revenge. Turns out, we all passed, were awarded certificates of completion, and given the go-ahead to make ourselves available for posting.

Now, if only my office noticed.

PRE(SUMPTIVE) DEPARTURE ORIENTATION SEMINAR Week Two

Well, I can write fini to the second week of PDOS, and I don't think Pardek suspects anything yet. I have to skip lunch to get through the work that piles on my desk while I'm away at class, and I have to run across the Home Office building whenever I get urgent calls, but otherwise, its looking increasingly likely I'll pull this thing off. Fingers-crossed.

On to the highlights.

Week Two

Day One

(No classes today thanks to EDSA. Unfortunately, I pull holiday officer-on-duty watch. Fortunately, the Oscars are on, and everytime the movie's mentioned, I hum "and there wiiiiiiiillllllll beeeeeeeee bloooood....and there wiiiiiiiiillllll beeeeeeeee blo-huh-huh-hod")

Day Two

Predictably, the course has a simulation exercise. In this case, we're gonna pretend to host a National Day reception abroad. Because my Department batchmates have tons of organizing experience by now, and because most of my PDOS batchmates are well-disciplined military-types, preparations go smoothly and swiftly. Roles are farmed out right away, floor plans go up on whiteboards immediately, and - for reasons I still don't fully understand - everyone's digital picture gets taken. In case you're wondering, I'm playing the host country's Foreign Minister (naturally).

Day Three

Outbreaks and Pandemics. Sh*t. I mean...holy sh*t. We're all gonna die. Horribly. Well, no, not really, but the LLDDL and I just finished season 5 of "24" on DVD, and all the classroom talk of lesions, casualty counts and "aerosolizing" viruses left me rocking my seat, sucking my thumb, and waiting for Jack to slap me silly while shouting "WE DON'T HAVE TIME FOR THIS!" On the other hand, we were also lectured on a Bird-flu tracking experiment called "The Minnesota Trojan Chicken Study" which, I'm sure Dave Barry would agree, would make a great name for a rock band.

Day Four

Assistance to Nationals, the bread and butter of the foreign service. Our unified coordination of services across many government agencies is called "The One Country Team Approach", which could only be more kick-ass sounding if it were called "The United Forces of Diplomacy". Whenever we're lectured on this, I always get images running through my head of an Ambassador rallying his staff, like a coach at halftime. "C'mon Country Team! Kayang-kaya kung sama sama! There is no 'I' in 'DFA'! "

Day Five

Service Sector Success Stories. We discuss, among others, the booming BPO industry (hell yeah), the booming spa and wellness industry (testify, LLDDL, testify!), and the booming animation industry (Cooooo-braaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!!!!!!!!!!!!)

Man, just saying that's got me pumped for the last week of PDOS!

Peeeeeeeeeee-dossssssssssssssssssssssssss!!!!!!!!!!!

PRE(SUMPTIVE) DEPARTURE ORIENTATION SEMINAR Week One

I'm gonna get in trouble for this, I just know it.

All government personnel (FSOs, service attachés, staff) scheduled for deployment abroad are required to go through PDOS - the Pre-Departure Orientation Seminar. It's supposed to give you a broad idea what life will be like at post, brief you on hot topics and issues, and generally provide you with tips on how to stay out of trouble and avoid being recalled. Cadetship Lite, if you will.

All well and good, except: a) The Boss (who I shall henceforth call Pardek) doesn't know I'm signed up for the current 3-week course; b) all the other officers in my unit are either on leave or away on assignment, making the wing of my office a virtual ghost town; and c) I'm not even due for posting yet!

It's not quite the pre-printing of "19-0 Perfect Season" Patriot t-shirts, but it's still a giant temptation of fate. Some crisis could flare up at my office, they'd look for me and find my empty desk, and Pardek would yell "You're not even going anywhere! WTF, man?!"

But, heck, PDOS is only irregularly offered once or twice a year. And if there's one thing Gattaca taught me, it's that if your blast-off window is closing, you gotta take chances and be ready to throw Jude Law in an incinerator.

So PDOSing I go.

Week One

Day One

Getting to know you. As you can see from the proliferation of buzz-cuts, most of my PDOS batchmates are from the armed services. There's no one from the Trade and Industry Department this time, which is sad because I was hoping to start a geeky FSO vs. Foreign Trade Service Corps rivalry. Alas. (Needless to state, I don't start a rivalry with the future military attachés, because they will freakin' end me)

Day Two


Entitlements, benefits and allowances, oh my! Everyone's favorite lecture. The funniest part was that one of my PDOS batchmates actually brought his spouse - or maybe she brought herself - specifically to this lecture. No paycheck's getting past her!

Day Three

Human Resources' go-to move: The Out-of-Office Team Building Exercise. It actually turned out more fun than expected, and the Parks and Wildlife venue brought back memories of grade school field trips. Above, we see the standard opening team cheer event. My team - the Black Panthers - basically just rhymed "Winner" with "Gggrrrrrr". Yes, it was as lame as it sounds.


Best part of the day: An Amazing Race* type of..um..race. Various legs involved: a) answering tough questions on Philippine history; b) solving complex brain teasers; and c) using your mouth and raising your butt in the air (don't ask why I was a little too good at this task).

And then, there was this.



Last activity of the day: everyone breaks up into groups of two, independently makes a random body part, and then creates the world's ugliest composite whatever-the-hell-that-thing-is.

Finally, your future foreign service personnel let loose to the tune of Pinoy Big Brother (warning: contains disturbing images)

(*speaking of Amazing Race, a few words on the just concluded Asian edition: Son of Rovil, you bald-headed shmuck!!! Flags? You couldn't get past freakin' flags!?! If you spent more time just looking at your passport's stamps and the flagpoles at the airports, and less time stripping, flirting and basically making pa-cute throughout the race, Philippine GNP would be up another $100,000 by now! No wonder you've never endorsed anything other than Mexicali fastfood! Do you even know what Mexicali is?! Are you still looking for a Republic of Mexicali flag? Shmuck.)

Day Four

Protocol and Social Graces, where they beseech us to always keep our elbows off the dining table (ok), to trim our nose hair regularly (ok), and to never wear a red sando underneath a white barong (I make no promises).

Day Five


Love the segue. From Good Grooming and Office Decorum we go directly to...Political and Security Issues. Why the hell not? In the afternoon, there's a Powerpoint presentation on Personal Security and we're given tips like "avoid taking the same route to work" and "look inside your car before going in". The whole thing sounded like a James Bond script...

...Oh. Well, there you go.

Alrighty then. First week's over and done with, the sessions have been relatively interesting, and no one has discovered Jude Law's charred corpse yet.

So far, so good.

THE ULTIMATE MOCK FSO EXAM REVIEWER

So I still see ads in the papers for FSO Exam review courses, and frankly, I still don't get it. Like I said in the epic "LL vs. DD", the FSO exam - unlike the Bar - is not something you can cram for in a couple of months. It's just too damn huge. I don't think a couple of review classes are gonna save your ass. You have to have been constantly reading books, magazines, news sites, Sunday comics, graphic novels, Department of Health pamphlets, backs of cereal boxes - ANYTHING - since before you hit puberty to have a shot in hell at the exam questions.

(of course, all that reading possibly postponed many a future FSO's puberty, but that's for another posting, "LL vs DD: Where the Women At?")

What I'm saying is, you might be better served just devouring "Bababa ba?", the latest issue of Maxim...er...The Economist, or Dave Barry's blog at your own pace than raising the stakes and enrolling in some review class. Besides, the passing rate of the FSO exam is lower than "Idol" auditions, so no refresher course can guarantee a return on your investment.

My advice: relax, keep on reading, go with what you know. If you don't make it, there's always next year. It shouldn't be as Life-or-Death as the Bar.

And whenever the mood strikes you, help yourself to my absolutely free and patent-pending Ultimate Mock FSO Exam Reviewer.

Emphasis on the "mock".


1. English (20%)



2. Tagalog (5%)



3. Philippine Political, Economic, Social and Cultural Conditions (30%)



4. International Affairs (20%)



(ed. note: the above used to be an awesome "Family Guy" video of Peter explaining diplomatic immunity to the tune of "U Can't Touch This", until those copyright fascists forced it off YouTube. By the Hammer of MC, I swear I will personally draft and handcarry for signing the Presidential appointment papers of any examinee who works into his/her FSO exam the international law principles found in "The Republic of Petoria" episode)

5.World History (20%)



6. Foreign Language (5%)