I am an American whether you like me or not. Deal with it.

Letter of Gratitude (or not) –as Rx by Dr. Richard Carlson, author. “Don’t Sweat the Small Stuff – and it is all small stuff.”



Dear Cheryl Z,

I do not trust anyone with a last name that rhymes with salami.

You opened my eyes to the fact that ugly, prejudiced Americans are smiling at me while wishing the worst for me.

It all started rather innocently. You asked me what I did for the weekend and I told you I went to Burger King for some fast food craving.

-If you want to be an American, then you should go to McDonald’s.

“Last time I heard, Americans make their own choices. My money, my choice.  ”

-You know, you alwasy act like you're better than me. You foreigners come here to take our jobs. Go back where you come from!

You put your forefingers on each temple to make your eyes slanted.

“I will tell you something, you are ugly as is, and you look uglier when you try to look like an Oriental.”

-And you are using your being a woman to get what you want. Go back where you come from!

“YOU go back to your trailer. I am educated and I did not take your job. You are not qualified to do my job. I can speak two languages, can you? Do you have a college education, because I do. You want to settle this outside?”

I was holding a computer tape as I advanced towards her. I was going to hit her with the tape. The men heard us and one of them took me aside, shielding me from the rest, “She is not worth it. The bitch is not worth it. This is what she wants from you. Don’t let her.”

There is power in being able to say things that your adversary cannot understand.

So as I allowed my manager and my co-workers to calm me down, I looked you in the eye and said calmly, “Kaputa-putang ina ka. Hindi  katulad mo lang na mal-educadang putang-ina mong puti ka ang makakaganyan sa akin. Tandaan mo ‘to, hayup ka.”

Twenty years later, I still guard my dealings with you. You have made bad choices in your life; cheating on your husband is one. Oh, by the way, you also gained at least 50 pounds and you are now on your third husband. You look like a truck driver.

I outranked you, not only in social but professional position. During one occasion when I asked you to do something for me, you could no longer tolerate me.  You had the audacity, without being provoked, to tell me that you would tell my superior that I was too demanding when I asked you to assist me in something.

-I will tell your boss that you are vey arrogant and demanding. You keep on asking me to do things, like I report to you.

“What, that I am asking you to give me a duplicate key or a box of xerox paper? What are you getting out of that?

-You just keep on asking for things. I cannot keep up and you are arrogant when you do not get it right away.

“I have a job to do. Do yours so I can do mine. I have to think to do my job. I need my document for the top guy.  You only need to get some supplies, is that too complicated to do?”

- I will tell Mr...that you are arrogant.

“Okay and I will tell him that you hate my guts. You want him to know what you told me in 1976?”

- You called me a honkee.”

“What the hell is ‘honkee?’ If you have to “quote” me , quote me with an educated sentence.  I married a Yankee so that would not even be credible if you are implying that I use that term pejoratively. I am tired of your pretending to be professional with me. We both know that you are a racist. Let us not pretend to like each other. You go to my boss, and I will have the men who heard what you said to me in 1976 put in writing your racist remarks. Let us see who loses here. “

You emailed me later and said, -Listen can we just erase all of these and start with a clean slate?-

“My slate has always been clean.” That was all you heard from me.

I did not attend your retirement party and I made sure to mention to people why when they asked. We were never friends despite having worked together all the years in the same building. I did not tell them that -te odio, y cualquier tu representes, entiendes?  No te encanta, nunca jamas.

You represent the ugly American sentiment that the USA is only for whites. You forget that your forefathers were once immigrants themselves. The United States is not black or white. It is Asian, Latino, Black, Arabs, Persians, White, Brown, Olive, and Yellow. It is Muslim, Christian, Jewish, Catholic, agnostic, atheist. It is the land of the free – its people are free to exercise their freedoms and they are free not to.

I fear the values that you and the likes of you install in your children but I hope your daughter is more open minded than you are. We reap what we sow. I hope that my son and the children of other non-white Americans negate the hysteria that dominates the "United States of Jesus," which insists that we need to show we are here legally and that we need to go back where we come from at first infraction.

I did not come here to take your job. I came here because I heard about North Americans espousing freedom and justice for all.  I have lived by the rules. I have worked hard to get where I am. I am an American whether you like me or not. Deal with it.

Thanks to you, I endeavored to keep bettering myself. I aspire to show people like you that being brown is not a sign of inferiority. I am living the American dream and people like you are trying to turn it into a nightmare for those of us who had the courage to come to North America to better our lives. We are educated, we are worldly, we are politically relevant, we are informed, we are affluent, and we are here to stay.

So here is to you, Cheryl – fuck you! 


Sincerely,

Drop Dead Sea Gorgeous

I went to the mall the other evening precisely to buy a scoop of kiwi gelato. After eating half of the gelato, I pitched the rest and walked about aimlessly towards Macy’s.


Then a young man approached me with a little sachet he put in my hand. He tells me his name is Philippe and he is an Israelite. He tells me he is from Boca Raton and is about to open a spa upstairs, in the mall. He was operating from a kiosk next to the cell phone guys.

“May I ask you a question? I am Philippe. I want to give you a product sample.”

-Sure, ask away.

“You are pretty.”

-Are you asking me if I am pretty?

“I have something to help you maintain your look, from the sea, you know dead sea. Let me apply it on your eye. Look at the mirror!”

-Dead Sea? Are you sure this is not going to kill me? Oh well, it does look firmer. Wow. (WTH did I say that?)

“And this product will last you a year, it works at night on your under eye muscle and the other is for daytime. You have heard of Botox?”

-I drink Botox.

“Hahaha. You are funny. No, botox is a (sic) poison you know...”

-I know. I drink it by the gallon. I love it.

“Hahahaha, You must spend a lot of money on it. How much you pay?(sic)”

-Not too much. I get a good deal. You want my doc's name? Where is my sample?

“I put the sample on your eye already.”

-Really. Wow, you are way too generous.



He then whips out his Iphone and shows me photos of his clients.

“See this photo? See before?”

He shows me a photo of what appears to be a woman in her 80’s, obviously worked on at least five times before, I was guessing a lift at 40, 50, 60, 70, and 75th --

“She uses my products, see after-. Look at this other lady. See her here – before, and here, after.”

-Oh my God, these are your clients? They look like they are at least 150 years old! Hahahaha -- Are you serious? They need your product, Botox, Radiesse, Perlane, PRP, another facelift, and a wheelchair. They spend that money?  Wow, almost dead gorgeous women! Those Boca women have more money than wits!

Philippe could not help but laugh. Then he goes back to his sales pitch.

"This product really works and it is not cheap because it lasts you a year."

 It is indeed packaged elegantly, and it goes like silk on the skin.

-Look I am not paying $400 a bottle for lotions. I am fine with Neutrogena.

But this is much better and it is for a year's supply, and you have seen how it works on your eye. Tell you what, you can have both products for $200. It is not because I am nice but because you deserve this product at the price you think is right.

-I guess. I like that eye cream. I hope it works.

 I paid for my purchase and about ready to go.

Suddenly, the next character entered. They both speak in a foreign tounge to each other.

“This is Isaac and he will give you a sample of the facial packs. Isaac, you can give her a short demo of the mask?”

-Sure I can give her one. (Isaac proceeds to pull out jars from the display counter) Then he gives me a look and tells me, "Sit down please."  He proceeds to clean the left side of my face.

--Excuse me, what are you doing?

He gives me the look.

-Just sit and relax.  I will show you how wonderful this product is. This is only $500 a jar but it is the most beautiful thing.

“And Isaac, how often does she use this?”

-She will use it once a week.

“You use it once a week” Philippe was already treating me like I am old and deaf.

“Isaac, is this product made of sea minerals?” He prompts Isaac.

Isaac answers his cue,  like this is the first time he has heard the question.

-This wonderful product is made of sea minerals, Philippe. It is wonderful and you buy this for $500 and then you need to buy…

--Guys, you sound like you are being filmed for an infomercial.

Then I stared at an imaginary camera and I said, “Yes, I was butt ugly before Philippe introduced me to the Dead Sea eye cream. My life changed because of it. Now I feel more confident and youthful.  I was close to dead but now I am revived thanks to the Dead Sea Salt cream.  If you are one of the first 100 callers, you can get the eye cream and the moisturizer for only $1,000 for both jars.” They were laughing, "Oh wow, we should do that, really!" 

I looked at the two Israelites.  --I am not paying $500 for a jar of mud.

Isaac gives me a look and and clicked his tounge against his cheek, shaking his head and giving me a stern look.  He proceeds to put this white creamy stuff on my face. I kept ducking but Philippe tells me to just relax and wait. "This will take just a minute."   Then Isaac opens a jar that contains what looked like molten lava rock.

-This is for your neck. Look, it is like powdered caviar.

--Listen guys, you have shown me your products but I have to be somewhere else. I did not come here to get a facial. Please take this off my face.  I want to go now.

Isaac gives me a stern look and proceeds to line up the products on the counter, he is moving unbelievably fast, like he wants to close a deal.

-This is only $500 and the mudpack for the neck is $450. You will buy both and you need…
-You need this for your face. (He gave me a stern look, as if admonishing me for not whipping out my Amex and buying yet.) This one is for your neck, here let me put it on. Turn this way. You apply it on and then wait…

--Get this thing off my face now! I mean, NOW. This is false imprisonment. You are now holding me against my will and having me make a decision under duress.

I proceeded to grab a piece of Kleenex and take off the cream off my face. Isaac gave me a warning look and they were both facing me. I got louder.

--I am not buying any product from you ! (addressing Isaac). Do not give me that kind of look because I am tired of you trying to intimidate me and I am tired of having to sit here while you two gang up and coerce me into buying. What the hell are you, the Hamas or something?

Philippe said, “Okay, okay, sorry, please calm down. We were just trying to show you some awesome products.”

Now it was my turn to give them a LOOK while I succeeded in getting off the cream off my face. Then I looked them both in the eye and said the following, in a firm lowered voice:

--I can afford to buy any product I want from you. However, I do not like being pushed. “

I left in a huff, but I had $200 worth of products in my own little fancy Premier paper bag.

I kept thinking about the photos of those Boca Raton women.  They look like they are on the last of their bucket list.  A 90-year woman with a trust fund believes she can wake up to a face of a fifty year old after using some hyped-up moisturizer the night before. Just ask Joan Rivers. 

Oh BTW, I am using the cream and loving it.

Capitol Hill - Climbing my Kilimanjaro

Letter of Gratitude, per Rx by Dr. Richard Carlson, author of Don’t Sweat the Small Stuff

Dear Mr. Greg (Pimentel),

My deepest hope is that you are still alive and that you have a Facebook page. I will suggest that you are 85 years old, maybe 95. Thirty six years ago, we met at a family picnic hosted by mutual friends. They told me that you were a Philippine merchant marine and you jumped ship. I had visions that you actually jumped into the Pacific Ocean and you swam across until you reached San Francisco, California. I was duly impressed.

At that time we met, you were an aide to a member of the US Senate. I was very interested to hear about your Congressional job. I asked “So which side of the bicameral Congress do you work?” In response you asked, “Senate side. Do you type as much as 100 words a minute?” Before I could answer you told me, “Hija, why don’t you go to a business school and learn to type one hundred words a minute. When you can do that, call me. I will help you get a job. Would you like to work for Congress?” I said, “Opo, ano po sa palagay ninyo?” (What do you think, sir?) “If you can type, take shorthand, speak, write and be yourself as see you today, I will help you get you a job. Viva ka, a!”

In 1977, I called you.

“Mr. Pimentel, I think I can type close to a hundred words a minute.” “Okay, then I will pick you up and help you get you a job in Capitol Hill.” Just like that. You picked me up in a chauffeured black government limousine. It went all the way through Pennsylvania Avenue . Then I was at the Russell Senate Office Building.

There, I find myself in front of an IBM Selectric. I am given a piece of document. I am asked to type what’s on the paper. The Senate Placement lady turns on the timer. I am sweating bullets.

When I was done, I scored some 91 words a minute, no mistake. No kidding. I could not believe it myself. “You see hija, that was very good. It is good that they have that on the record, that you typed that well. Mahusay, mahusay! (Great, great). Viva, viva. We are just putting things on the record. Now I will get you a job where you will never worry about losing your job . The Democrats or Republicans may be in power but you will have a job so long as you do your best. You will do your best. How much money do you want to make?” I did a quick math in my head. I came up with a number that I thought was “dynomite.” “How about $10,000?” “Okay, then you will make $10,000.” “Thank you, po!” $10,000 x P7.00, P70,000. This is the American dream.

Next thing I remember, I was sitting in front of this gentleman. His name is Bob Farrar. “So, you know Greg. He said your dad is a diplomat?” I was coached well. “Yes, my Dad used to be an agricultural attaché. Greg is our family friend. They went to school together.” (My ass). “Okay, are you familiar with computers?” “No, I have not operated a computer but I know what an IBM keypunch machine looks like and I operate a Western Union teletype machine at the Air Line Pilots Association. Whatever I need to know, I will learn.” “Good. College, good; University of the Philippines, Very good.” “You write for a Filipino newspaper?“ “Yes I write feature articles .” “Good. Okay so it will be Memorial Day on the 30th. So why don’t you come back and you will be sworn in on June 1st. Welcome to the U. S. Senate!”

“Wait, is this the building I will work in?” (The building was an old brick, the former Immigration Building near Capitol Hill, demolished since)

“No you will work at the new Dirksen Senate Building. There will be another building that will be built soon.  “  The Senate Buildings are abbreviated as follows:

Dirksen or DSOB, Russell or RSOB, Hart or HSOB or

DIRKSEN SOB, Russell SOB, Hart SOB.

It used to make me laugh but now I am part of the SOBs. I love these names. They are the rooms in my “family home.”

That was 35 years ago, that I sat down across from Mr. Farrar, who I would sign documents on his signature decades later when I reported to him as the Budget Officer.

I did not know it that time but I could have asked for more money. I should have been a little bit greedier! The first week, even months of my job, Mr. Farrar sat down with me to draw pictures of the IBM main frame, the printers. He told me how these computers work. I was assigned the job of Assistant Tape Librarian. It was the most boring job in the whole world. I saw no one except the person I was supposed to assist, John. My coworker called him the “Geezer.” I did not know what geezer meant but I imagined a bald eagle because John was bald. He was very kind to me. He was a Navy vet. He cursed like one. In the 70’s there was no law against pervasive language that could rise to the level of harassment. One day, I was very tired and someone wanted a tape. I responded, loudly, and in jest, “Yo man! If you want the goddamn it tape, why don’t you go get the fuck it yourself!” “Say what?” someone asked. And buoyed with renewed courage, I said, “Don’t be a jerk off!!” Everyone stopped and then they all stood up and clapped their hands. They were laughing uproariously. “John, she is learning, she is learning!” I have since finessed my cursing to remove the extra direct object, article, and/or preposition.  I can say an imperative or a reflexive, depending upon the situation. 

Anyway, we maintained the tape library –every tape looks just like the next. We catalog, clean, label, and store them. I started taking courses at the community college so I can understand the binaries. One day, I inadvertently erased all data from one whole cart of tapes. I thought I was cleaning them. That was the opportunity for our group to show our capacity to “back up and recover.” It was cool. No problem.

In the Senate, I learned how to be patient, to listen, to stand my ground, to seek better opportunities within the organization, to be non-partisan, to be assertive. Within its confines, I thrived. I have held many various positions. Every time I was assigned a new function, I ran to the community college to take courses to make me more competent. Accounting, business math, business law? No problem. Computers, binaries? No problem. Contract Law, Contract Administration, piece of cake. I even took courses in behavioral science. Algebra, of course! Biology, definitely. Commercial Spanish, claro que si!
About ten years ago, I was curious what my employee records show. I asked for a copy of my records from the Human Resources. The most interesting part of that file was a hand-written note by Mr. Pimentel to the Deputy Sergeant at Arms of the Senate. “Mel, I want you to look (underscored, bolded) at this resumé. Below is a notation presumably from Mel. “Get this young lady to meet Ops Manager at Computer Center. ASAP.” I learned later on that Mr. Pimentel was really a very powerful aide. He was a big deal but to me he was just our family friend; he loved to cook, eat, fish.

I did not fail you, Mr. Pimentel. The Senate has become my second home and my extended family. It has been there for the milestones in my life. The Senate gave me the stability that I may be able to pursue my other interests in the performing arts, foreign languages, travel. I learned to advocate for myself, articulate my thoughts, and defend my decisions; I learned to insist that I get credit for things I have accomplished. I pursued higher education, the Senate helped me pursue even more; I gave back to my community, became a mother and wife; and I have an untarnished career at the Senate. I have doubled, tripled, quadrupled and much more the $10K that you so generously negotiated for me.

I am about to retire in a couple of years. I would like to thank you, sincerely, for what you have done for me. I promised you that I would not disappoint you. I spoke to you when I completed 25 years of service. I am celebrating my 35 years at the US Senate this year. I am about to receive a plaque in July. I have not forgotten that I owe you so much for changing my life. Tinatanaw ko pong utang na loob sa inyo, ang success ko sa Senado. You appeared in my life like Santa Claus, asking me what I wished for and then granting it. You were my miracle on 1st and C Streets, NE.