“Stop pestering me!” He shouted while eating his hot soup he bought a while ago when I was busy looking for someone who could clean the table in front of me.
It was a typical Monday. Everyone was busy, from the train station to the office, bussyness is as if their only escape to the chaotic world.
In the office, everything was light. It was a busy day. I did my job and once in a while laughed about the silly jokes made by the office clown. Actually, those jokes were not funny enough to make me laugh but instead I laughed because of the word COMPROMISE. I compromise my humor so that I would not be labeled as ‘kill joy’. I never knew that, that compromised laugh would turn to a bitter day…
In the other office, everything was chaotic. He, in his own desk, was scrutinizing every detail of the proposal letter he needed to submit last Friday but was not able to because his boss kept him revising and revising until Friday was already done. And there he was, with his heart pounding, walking to his boss’ office, having a day that he would never forget.
“Stop pestering me!” Maybe he had a bad day. His boss just dumped his proposal.
“Stop pestering me!” I wanted to laugh and cry at the same time. Is this the result of compromising?
“Stop pestering me!” He shouted while eating his hot soup he bought a while ago when I was not staring, when I was peacefully seating on that table looking for someone who could clean the table in front of me.
I am waiting for my family in a mall, in a food court, for dinner. I look for a table comprising of 6 seats. The table I find is a total mess. Someone had eaten there but no one is cleaning it. I am looking for someone to clean it. Many people have passed and asked if i have companions. They want to seat there, because like me, they are very hungry and every table and seat is already reserved or someone is there first. I said yes, I have companions. When I turn my head, there it is, a paper bag, in the reserved seat. Someone own it, and this someone want to seat there, on the reserved seat I am saving.
A man, 30 plus of age, is coming with a hot soup, rice and viand on his tray. He seats there, like he didn’t see me. I am there still. I tell him with respect, “Manong, I’m here first.” I don’t know what I said wrong but he just bursts out and tell me, he was there first. I was shocked because I know, truly in my heart, even I swear to God, I was there first. In my head, I told myself that even the people who surround that table would testify. But the man, he keeps on talking, like a lady, “I was here first.” And he keeps babbling hurtful words. Of course, I keep on defending and explaining to him that I was there first. However, I forget one simple ingredient, kindness. I become as rude as him.
“Stop pestering me!” He shouted while eating his hot soup he bought a while ago.
May be, he had a very bad day. May be the only way he could escape to the real world is by eating that soup. May be his very long day is just beginning with that soup. May be if I didn’t became rude to him, he would not be like that. May be if I was kind to him, his day will be enlightened. But instead, I walked out and looked for another seat with a heavy heart. And tears involuntary pour down to my cheeks.