I open my eyes. It's 5:30 in the morning. YUCK. I hate Mondays. I struggle to keep my eyes open as I crawl out of bed and drag myself into the bathroom. I have an hour to get ready for work, which starts at 7:00 AM. I take a quick shower, brush my teeth, throw my clothes on, and slip my feet into my trusty flip-flops (my heels are waiting for me in my locker, so I won't bother killing my feet just yet).
As I brave the traffic on EDSA (as a passenger—which doesn't really make me "brave" at all—haha), I map the day out in my head. Class at 7 to 3; no meetings and no special projects lined up, so I should be done by 4, right after I finish my reports. I check the clock on the dashboard and I see that it's 6:40. Oh, no. I can't be late. I begin thinking about asking another trainer to cover for me during the first few minutes of class. What activity should I ask that trainer to give them? How many minutes 'till I get to work? I snap out of my trance when I see that the car is approaching the building. I check the clock and see that I have 12 minutes before my class starts.
I ride the elevator (which takes forever because I work in what is one of the oldest buildings in Makati) to get to the fourth floor, and I finally clock in at 6:53. I don't have enough time to check my E-mail, so I gather my training supplies and head on to the training room to officially start my day.
The class is in a jovial mood (am I seriously the only one who doesn't like Mondays?!), so it's easy for me to start the day with a grammar module. Call me weird, geeky, or anything you like, but I will never be ashamed to admit that running a grammar module always puts me in high spirits and geared up to teach the entire day. My happiness is cut short when I see the confused looks on their faces. I need to think of something else for them to get this. I rack my brains out while they work on an exercise online. Finally, I come up with a game in an attempt to get them to comprehend the lesson. The trainees half-heartedly take their places for the game, possibly because they were doubtful of their understanding of the lesson. But in the middle of the game, the mood begins to change. Both teams have their game faces on, analyzing each and every word of each and every sentence of each and every round. Team one wins, but only by five points. The game is processed and the trainees respond positively. The class is tired, but I'm satisfied because I'm able to get my point across.
During the first break I get my daily fix of caffeine. Because I didn't get enough sleep last night, I decide to order what I like to call "a slap on the face." I say goodbye to the friendly baristas after claiming my drink. I happily sip my iced double tall caramel breve latte while I go for a quick smoke. Before heading back to class, I stop by the photocopier to print copies of the quiz on the previous module.
After giving them a bit of time to review on their own, I hand out the questionnaires. While the trainees answer their assessments, I check my E-mail, reply to a couple, and clean up my inbox. By the time I got through all of the important messages, the class was done. They exchange papers (yes, high school style) and we go through each item. My satisfaction before the break was transformed into glee when I saw that all but one trainee (who missed it by one point) got passing marks. This gets me pumped for the next module, which I decide I will start discussing after lunch.
Agh! My feet are killing me! I take off my shoes and slip into my flip-flops while I grab a quick bite to eat. After chatting with some of my co-workers, I slip my feet back into the hell which are my heels. I head back to class, all geared up for the next module.
Thirty minutes pass and I'm still on the second part of my module, all thanks to a trainee who refuses to produce the long E sound. I walk toward her and stand behind her as I read the sentence of the board.
"The Philippines has a lot of beautiful beaches," I say.
"The Philippines has a lat of beautifool bitches," she replies.
I ask her to repeat the sentence. "The Philippines... has a lot... of beautifool..."
I repeat what she said. "Beautifool?"
She struggles to get the word correct. "Beauty... fool. Beauty... full. Beautiful."
"Good job," I say, and I ask her to repeat the sentence.
She inhales deeply as if she were going underwater. "The Philippines has a lot of... BEAUTIFUL... bitches."
It is now my turn to take a deep breath and force a smile. The little me in my head is starting to throw a tantrum. I calmly walk to the board and, using my "artistic skills," draw a picture of a beach beside a picture of a female dog. After 10 minutes of asking her (and the class, from time to time) to repeat after me, and having them point out that the two pictures were entirely different things, she finally gets the point. It's now time to move on to the next part of the lesson.
Finally. It's time for the last break. The final stretch. Two more hours and I'm done. After the last break, I instruct the class to do some activities to help them practice their pronunciation. I walk around, listening to them practice. I give feedback to a number of trainees. I stop by the trainee who was having trouble with her long E sounds and sit beside her. I'm happy to hear that she finally realizes the difference between the long E and the short I sounds. Although her pronunciation isn't perfect, she's started to become aware. After an hour of practice and coaching, I check the clock and see that it is 2:55 PM. Time to go home, for them at least. I give my final reminders for the day and send them off.
I rush to the trainers' room to work on my reports. I swear I could hear my feet saying a speech of appreciation when I changed into my slippers. I start writing my report and finish it in 20 minutes. After proofreading it, I send the report to my managers. Right after clicking the send button I hear laughter from the other side of the room. I follow the laughter, and 10 minutes later, I find myself engaged in a game of Taboo. No one complains about the noise so we keep on playing the game, screaming at the top of our lungs if we know what the answer is. Half an hour later, the noise dies down and we find ourselves debating the pronunciation of "mango." We laugh at ourselves because of the absurdity of the discussion, and settle on consulting trusty old www.m-w.com for the conclusion to our debate. Before leaving the office, I join some of my co-workers for merienda/early dinner. After filling our stomachs with good food and air (because of laughing too much), we decide to call it a day.
I finally leave the office at 6 PM. After an hour and a half of bearing the grueling traffic on EDSA, I finally reach the sanctity of my own house. Dinner's ready, but since I'm still full, I sit with my family and tell them about my day.
I check my mail, harvest my rent in Cityville, check FaceBook, and address pressing issues on Nationstates.net. At 11:30, I'm finally in my pajamas, getting ready for bed. As I drift off to sleep, I can't help but think about how tired I am, and how tired I will be during the week (Monday is the only day I get to sleep before midnight since there's no quiz). Nobody said that working in a call center was this physically and mentally exhausting. But everyday, you see people develop before your eyes, you get to meet people from different walks of life with different personalities, you build relationships with your peers and form wonderful friendships. And that makes the stress worth it.
Tuesday, here I come.
