Tuesday, December 03, 2019


One of the things my apartment mate requires at times is my perspective on Filipinas. With whom she works. Apparently I am the Filipina whisperer.
My exposure to them, despite the fact there are a dozen such creatures surrounding her at her office, is immense. This is not a role I relish, as I am glad I do not know any at present. Although one does take the same bus to Marin every weekend. Best described as Donya Buding's bitchy scrawny cousin with a rich white woman's sun tan and pissy attitude.
I went to the Philippines several times years ago.
There are Filipinas all over accounting.
And I've worked with them.
An awful lot.

Piranhas on meth.

They can be charming, warm and hospitable, but that's like cats acting cute; they don't realize that that is special, it's their normal routine, much like licking themselves or chasing their tail. Underneath that they can be pit vipers, with an element of self-centered craziness a mile wide. The more pretensions they have, the more sharp of tooth.

At a law office a memo was sent to the collections staff informing us that the partners in the Washington office demanded that no collection calls whatever should be done on their clients. Please acknowledge receipt, and your total comprehension of this directive! By the end of the day, all of the Washington partners had contacted me and asked me to please disregard the memo, proceed as usual, and on no account let the rest of the collectors know about it.

The other collectors were all Filipinas.

Yes, naturally I informed my boss (neither a Filipina nor a collector). Who understood, sought confirmation confidentially, and then told me to keep a separate call record for those accounts, detailing the work done.

At a different law office a few years before then, the Filipinas preferred not to associate with me, but avidly sought to socialize with the major partners and their secretaries.

There's something twisted about a society that on the one hand is thoroughly Asian, on the other totally Americanized, and on the third hand conservative Catholic (a blinkered Spanish Inquisition mentality mixed with Haciendadero), while never the less maintaining Malay-Indonesian superstitions and social relations.

In addition to being totally consumerist status conscious snobs.

[Keen style sense, but only well-known expensive brands.]

When I say I like Filipinos, I'm not lying.
I'm just not telling the truth.

Their food is wonderful.

[Except for banana ketchup.]

Addendum Monday December 9, 2019: a reader who identifies herself as "Pinot Blanc" opines that banana ketchup is not only "wonderful", but, in fact, "miraculous".

NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.

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