Jennie From The BLAHg

Just my random rants and fandom re-blogs

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Technical Skill vs Artistic Identity: Why Some Artists Impress Us But Don’t Fully Move Us

Before anything else, a disclaimer: this is not a hate post against BINI. This is also not me invalidating their achievements, talent, training, or impact on PPop.

Because objectively speaking, they are talented. They worked hard. They trained for years. They helped push PPop further into mainstream consciousness. And as a Filipino, seeing them perform on international stages genuinely makes me proud.

But lately, I’ve been trying to verbalize why I personally still feel disconnected from them as artists despite acknowledging all of that.

And I think I finally figured it out.

It’s not about talent. It’s about artistic identity.

There’s a difference between artists who perform well and artists who make you feel something beyond the choreography, visuals, and polished execution.

Some artists step on stage like they are fighting for every second. You can feel the hunger. The obsession. The urgency. The joy of performing. The desire to express something. Even when imperfect, they leave an imprint because they feel alive onstage.

Meanwhile, there are artists who are technically excellent but somehow feel like they are simply completing a task.

That’s the disconnect I personally feel sometimes.

When I watch BINI perform, I see professionalism. I see discipline. I see synchronization and branding and clean execution. But I don’t always feel a strong artistic urgency behind the performances. Sometimes it feels like everything is already predetermined. The expressions, the arrangements, the formula, the “safe” image.

Before anyone says: “But they trained hard during the pandemic!”

Of course they did. 🙄 That’s literally part of being an idol. Every PPop and KPop group trains. No entertainment company will debut completely untrained artists.

Training is the baseline.

Artistic identity is the differentiator.

Also honestly, attending mandatory trainings to become artists or idols should not be treated as the sole basis for proving passion.

Training is expected. It is part of the job.

That alone does not automatically answer the deeper question: “Why are you truly doing this?”

If I were to ask them directly, what would their answer be?

Are they doing this because it was part of the reality show concept they came from?

Because they wanted financial stability and to help their families in the long run?

Because they wanted fame and opportunities?

Is there a deeper artistic and cultural purpose behind it all?

Do they genuinely want to elevate Filipino talent globally?

Do they see themselves helping shape the future of PPop and representing Filipino artistry beyond catchy bubblegum hits and commercial success?

Because eventually, audiences start looking beyond synchronization, visuals, and polished performances. People begin searching for conviction. Identity. Intent. A reason why these artists need to create and perform beyond the fact that they were trained to do so.

Maybe that’s what some of us are still waiting to feel more strongly from them.

What I keep looking for is that unmistakable feeling that the artists are not just performing because they need to, but because they genuinely love doing it. Because they have something to say creatively. Because they want to leave fingerprints on their art.

I think that’s why I found myself wanting more from their Coachella performances.

No, this is not me saying they flopped. They absolutely did not. The girls represented the Philippines on a massive international stage and that alone is already historic.

But as a viewer, I was personally looking for reinvention. A new arrangement. A different flavor. A moment that would make international audiences go: “Oh. THIS is who they are.”

Instead, the performances felt very similar to what we already usually see locally. Polished, rehearsed, familiar.

Again, that’s not automatically bad. Some fans love consistency and polish. Some fans connect with BINI precisely because they feel accessible, light, fun, comforting, and relatable.

But for me, I look for artists whose identities feel deeply embedded in their work.

Quite frankly, I think being heavily backed by a major network can sometimes contribute to this feeling.

Large entertainment systems are naturally designed to prioritize marketability, consistency, branding, repeatable success and public image safety.

The downside is that sometimes the rough edges (the very things that make artists distinct) get softened in favor of broader appeal.

So when people say: “Who are you to criticize them?”

Well, lemme tell ya. As an audience member who supports PPop and wants the industry to grow, I think constructive criticism should be allowed.

Critiquing art is not automatically hatred.

Wanting artists to evolve is not sabotage.

Expressing disconnection from an artist’s current creative direction is not “crab mentality.”

In fact, I think taking PPop seriously enough to critically discuss performances, artistry, identity, and evolution is a sign that people actually care about the industry becoming globally competitive.

Because eventually, technical skill alone will not sustain longevity.

At some point, audiences start looking for artistic voice, reinvention, individuality, emotional authenticity and creative risk-taking

Those things cannot be manufactured forever.

To some Blooms: Stop treating every constructive criticism as a personal attack against the girls. Not everyone who critiques BINI is a hater, insecure, “threatened,” or secretly trying to drag them down. Some of us genuinely WANT to connect with them more. Some of us WANT to continue supporting them. But audiences evolve. Standards evolve too.

If casual listeners and/or even non-fans say:

“Hey, we want to see more artistic identity, more reinvention, more flavor, more risk-taking…”

that shouldn’t automatically trigger online warfare.

Because ironically, the fandom itself sometimes pushes people away faster than the criticism does.

You cannot keep demanding that PPop be taken seriously globally while also refusing to allow serious discussions about artistry, stage identity, performance evolution, and creative growth.

No artist should want stagnancy. Especially not artists already operating on international stages.

Also, hear this:

Being surrounded only by people who endlessly praise everything you do is one of the fastest ways for art to stop evolving.

Not all criticism is hate. Sometimes it’s people saying: “We see the potential. We just know they can still become even greater.”

At the end of the day, this is just my perspective as someone who consumes performances critically and values artistic identity very heavily.

You can disagree. That’s completely fine.

But I think this is the real conversation worth having:

Technical skill can make people admire artists. But artistic identity is what makes people truly believe in them.

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When Interviews Start Feeling Like Free Consulting

There’s a strange kind of exhaustion that comes from being qualified, experienced, answering every interview question with honesty and actual lived experience… and still ending up refreshing your inbox for weeks with nothing there.

I’ve been sending applications non-stop to roles I genuinely know I can contribute to. Not just random submissions for the sake of employment, but positions where I can already see myself improving processes, leading teams better, creating structure, solving problems. There’s even one company (ironically, a former employer) that I’ve been prioritizing because the role feels almost tailor-fit for me. The kind of role where you quietly think, “I know I’d do well here.” But it’s been more than a month, and there’s been complete silence. No rejection. No update. Nothing. So eventually, reality kicks in and you tell yourself you have to keep applying elsewhere because bills don’t exactly wait for “hopefully.”

What’s been bothering me lately though is the pattern I keep noticing in final interviews.

A lot of them involve “real-world scenarios.” Some are framed as leadership problems, customer experience concerns, operational gaps, social media challenges, team conflicts, engagement issues. Things I’ve actually encountered before. Because I have encountered them before, I answer truthfully. Not textbook answers. Not fake corporate jargon. Real answers based on what I’ve done, what worked, what failed, what I learned.

Sometimes they even react positively during the interview itself. You can feel it. They say things like, “That’s a good approach,” or “Interesting, because there are actually options A to C here.” Some even start sounding more conversational afterwards, almost like a brainstorming session already. So naturally, you leave the call thinking maybe you did well.

Then comes the silence again.

No update. No rejection email. No closure.

This has happened multiple times already. Hence, a thought starts creeping into your head no matter how much you try to dismiss it:

What if some companies are unintentionally using interviews as free consulting sessions?

I know that sounds cynical. Maybe even bitter. But when you repeatedly reach final interview stages where you’re asked to analyze actual business problems, suggest workflow improvements, identify gaps, provide customer experience strategies, propose social media directions, or solve operational concerns, only to disappear from the process afterwards, you can’t help but wonder.

Do they already have internal problems they’re trying to solve, and candidates simply become external brains they can extract ideas from for an hour?

If someone provides an idea that works, do they think, “Great, let’s test this with the current team instead”? If it doesn’t work, do they open another hiring cycle and collect another batch of ideas from another set of applicants?

Again, maybe not intentionally. Maybe there are legitimate reasons behind hiring delays, budget freezes, internal endorsements, or role cancellations. I know recruitment is more complicated than applicants realize.

But from the applicant side, especially for people who genuinely prepare, think deeply, and emotionally invest in these interviews, it starts feeling less like “talent acquisition” and more like unpaid consultancy presentations disguised as recruitment.

The hardest part is this: you still show up sincerely every single time.

You still prepare. You still answer thoughtfully. You still believe maybe this next one will finally work out.

Maybe that’s the real frustrating part of job hunting as an experienced professional, not rejection itself, but the emotional labor of constantly proving your value in rooms that may have never truly intended to make space for you in the first place.

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Manifesting SB19’s song Memories to be part of Forgotten Island OST, if not the main theme song (it will really do well during end credit scene).

Disclaimer: just did this for fun. Since the available trailer is only 2mins, the song was spliced in more ways than one 😅

CTTO: embedded in the video

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Learning Without Being Taught

A reflection on mistakes, feedback, and the quiet moment when doubt enters the room.

There’s a strange kind of silence that happens when you’re trying to learn something, but no one actually teaches you how.

For the past few months, I found myself asking a question I never thought I would seriously entertain: Am I actually good at what I do?

Before this experience, I never really had to ask that. I had spent years working in leadership roles -- managing people, solving problems, navigating difficult situations, making decisions when things became complicated.

I wasn’t perfect. But I was confident enough to know that I could figure things out. Then suddenly, I felt like someone who couldn’t even do the basics right.

And it made me pause.

Maybe I do have an inferiority complex that I never noticed before. Or maybe I was just pretending to be capable all along. What do they call it, imposter syndrome?

That’s the thing about doubt, it creeps in quietly. Once it’s there, it starts asking questions about every version of yourself that existed before it.

There’s a particular kind of discomfort when your past experiences suddenly stop feeling like proof of your capability and start feeling like coincidences. I began wondering if everything I had done before this role was just luck.

Maybe I had simply been in environments that were more forgiving. Maybe the version of myself I thought was competent was just someone who hadn’t been tested properly yet.

To be fair, I know I made mistakes. I won’t pretend otherwise -- I am not the type who'll fake it 'til I make it. The role required skills that I was still learning, and there were outputs that I struggled to deliver the way they were expected.

But what made the experience difficult wasn’t simply the mistakes themselves. It was the way feedback happened.

During meetings where my work was reviewed, the mistakes were always clearly pointed out. What was wrong would be identified, sometimes in detail. But what rarely followed was the correction -- the how.

What should the correct output actually look like? What was the proper process? How should it be done differently next time? When I asked these questions, the answer was often a variation of “Sinabi ko na sayo yan.”

Maybe it had been mentioned before. Maybe it had been said briefly somewhere in the middle of a meeting. But understanding something enough to correct a mistake requires more than hearing it once.

Over time, something else added to the confusion. The expectations themselves seemed to shift. What was acceptable in one submission would suddenly be incorrect in the next. Instructions, or at least the interpretation of them, seemed to change depending on the moment.

So I adjusted. Then adjusted again. But without ever fully understanding the standard I was supposed to follow.

Because of that, meetings about my submissions slowly became something I started to dread. Not because I didn’t want feedback, but because I knew the conversation would focus on what went wrong without necessarily showing me how to make it right.

Looking back now, one realization bothers me. I kept making the same mistakes. Not because I didn’t care enough to correct them, but because the correct method was never fully taught.

It’s a strange feeling to go from leading teams to questioning whether you can even perform a rank-and-file job properly.

Two weeks into my employment, I remember being told something that stayed with me. “If nahihiya ka, hindi ka para sa A****N.”

At the time, I had made a light comment that I felt shy reaching out to certain people. They didn’t know me yet. I didn’t know them either. I was still trying to understand the environment, the relationships, the unspoken rules of how things worked. What if I messaged someone and they thought, “Who is this?”

It wasn’t fear. It was caution. In my mind, I was simply trying to navigate respectfully within a new space.

But sometimes caution and hesitation look the same depending on how someone chooses to interpret them.

There was also a moment during one of our meetings that stayed with me longer than the rest of the conversation. S/he mentioned that one of his/her biggest pet peeves was people making mistakes.

I remember pausing internally when I heard that. Not because I felt defensive. But because I felt… confused.

Mistakes are usually where learning begins. So I found myself wondering (quietly, only in my own head) how someone could dislike mistakes so strongly when mistakes are part of being human.

A strange thought crossed my mind (Of course I didn’t say that out loud): If you make mistakes too, do you end up hating yourself? Do you get mad/angry at yourself?

That was the moment something shifted for me. Because for the first time, I considered the possibility that the problem wasn’t entirely about my capability.

There was a time during a quieter conversation with other members of the team, they told me something that helped me understand the dynamic a little better. Someone casually said, “Ganyan talaga siya. When s/he talks, parang higher than thou dapat siya.”

It wasn’t said maliciously. More like an observation people had already learned to live with. Hearing that didn’t erase my mistakes or the things I could have done better. Those are still mine to own. But it did shift how I understood the experience.

Because when mistakes are treated not as part of learning but as something that irritates people personally, the environment stops feeling like a place where you can grow.

Instead, it starts to feel like a place where every misstep confirms a conclusion that may have already been made.

When I eventually looked at my evaluation sheets, something else stood out to me. The form was supposed to measure behavioral aspects of the role, but many of the remarks listed the technical mistakes in my outputs.

Those mistakes existed precisely because I was still learning the skills the role required.

It made me pause and think about alignment -- between expectations, support, and evaluation. At times, the level of documentation made me feel like every movement had been closely observed. As if someone had been quietly building a record. Not to guide improvement, but to confirm a conclusion.

Doubt is strange that way. When someone repeats your mistakes often enough, you start to believe the mistakes are the most accurate version of you.

But sometimes distance reveals something else entirely. The mistakes were real. But they were never the whole story.

I’m not writing this to assign blame. Not every workplace is the right fit for every person. Sometimes the alignment simply isn’t there. But experiences like this leave you with questions, not just about the organization, but about yourself.

Was I really struggling because I lacked the capability? Or because I was trying to learn something in an environment where learning itself felt like a mistake?

I still don’t know the full answer. But clarity has a quiet way of arriving after you step away from the environment that made you question yourself in the first place.

Maybe that’s the quiet lesson I’m taking with me. Not every environment is meant to shape you. Some environments simply reveal where you were never meant to stay. Sometimes growth isn’t about becoming someone new.

Sometimes it’s simply about remembering who you were before someone made you question it.

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High Standards, Clear Guidance, and the Leadership In Between

After 16 years in the workforce, I experienced something new.

For the first time in my career, I was not regularized in a role.

Surprisingly, I’m okay with it. In fact, I find myself more at peace now. Stepping away from the situation gave me the space to reflect, and I realized how easily certain environments can make even experienced professionals question themselves.

I have reflected on the experience and revisited the evaluation, I realized something important about how people grow at work.

Throughout the past few months, I did make mistakes. I acknowledge that. But I also made a sincere effort to apply every correction that was given. Each time feedback was provided, I worked to revise the deliverables and improve the output.

At times, however, feedback came after a noticeable delay, which meant that by the time corrections were discussed, the next set of instructions or expectations had already evolved. This made it challenging to determine whether the revisions I was making were still aligned with what was required.

In environments where standards are high and accuracy is critical, timely and consistent feedback becomes even more important, because it allows people to correct course while they are still working through the task.

Because improvement usually happens when three things are present:

• clear expectations • constructive feedback • consistent guidance

Without those, even capable professionals can find themselves working hard to improve but unsure if they are moving in the right direction.

Another layer to this experience was the transition.

Coming from years of supervisory roles back into a rank-and-file position, I was mindful not to overstep. I tried to adapt to the structure and follow the processes that were being communicated.

Adjusting to a completely different working environment within three to four months can be a learning curve in itself.

But this experience reminded me of something I’ve always believed as a leader.

When I handled teams, I considered it a success when I saw my people improving over time.

Because improvement usually means both sides are doing something right:

The individual is learning; and the leader is guiding effectively.

Leadership is not only about maintaining high standards. It is also about helping people understand how to reach those standards.

Looking back, I don’t see this experience as a failure. I see it as a reminder that skills alone don’t determine success in a workplace.

Communication matters (especially when we're in a world of Communication). Guidance matters. Leadership matters.

If there is one thing I hope organizations continue to strengthen, it is this:

No new team member should feel that they are trying to improve without a clear path forward.

Because growth doesn’t happen in isolation. It happens in environments where people are guided while they learn.

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Two Months In, and Still in Between

I’ll be officially two months into my new role on January 1.

I’m not new to work, nor to navigating unfamiliar environments. My career has taken me across BPO, telco retail with social media, IT, back to BPO, and now into mainstream media and broadcasting. Each move required adjustment. This one is no different—except that the standards are sharper, the margins thinner, and the expectations more exacting.

There is an assumption that comes with entering this space—that you should already know how things are done, how decisions are framed, how work is paced. That assumption becomes heavier when you’re surrounded by people who have been in the industry, and in the company, for years. Experience creates fluency, and fluency can look effortless from the outside.

It would be dishonest to say that isn’t intimidating.

I am working alongside people who know this system intimately. People who operate with a shared language shaped by time and repetition. In an environment like this, precision matters. There is little room for error—not because mistakes are unforgivable, but because accuracy is part of the culture.

I’ve made mistakes. I’ve been corrected. That is part of learning any system that values exactness. What it has done, more than anything, is make me deliberate. My decisions are measured. My words are chosen carefully. My movements are intentional. Not because I lack initiative—but because I understand how costly misalignment can be.

There were moments—finger-countable ones—when I did take the initiative and tried to offer more than what was required. The intent was there. The effort was there. But the feedback made it clear that in this space, how something is done matters just as much as what is done. Some choices were questioned. Some approaches needed reframing. That feedback didn’t stop me from trying—it taught me to be more exact.

At times, I catch myself wondering how this might be read from the outside. Someone from a top state university. Someone with more than fifteen years of professional experience. Someone who came from a higher position—now adjusting, recalibrating, learning the system from the ground up.

What isn’t immediately visible is that this adjustment is intentional.

I’m still testing the waters. Observing how decisions are made, how authority moves, how feedback is given and received. I’m learning the people as much as I’m learning the work. That means listening more than speaking, watching more than asserting, and resisting the urge to perform competence too early.

"Can you read the room? I hate to break it to you but in this room there’s no one leaving…”

This isn’t hesitation. It’s restraint.

I’m not hiding what I know—I’m pacing it. Two months is too early to assume that past successes translate seamlessly into a new ecosystem. Experience matters, but so does respect for the space you’re entering.

I’m grateful to be here. This is a company I deeply respect, one whose mission and vision align closely with my own. I accepted the role knowing it came with a lower pay and a rank-and-file position because the work itself mattered more than the title. That decision was deliberate, not desperate.

Some days still feel like an in-between. That doesn’t mean I don’t belong. It means I’m calibrating to a higher bar.

Growth doesn’t always look loud. Sometimes it looks like patience, precision, and choosing to learn the room before shaping it. For now, that is where I am—and I’m comfortable staying here while the fit settles into place.

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Learning to Belong in a Different World

I’m not tired.

That’s the first thing I need to say—mostly to myself.

I’m challenged -- and I like it.

For a long time, I was a supervisor. I knew the terrain. I knew how to lead people, how to read, explain and defend metrics, how to survive high-pressure environments where everything was measured, timed, and scored. The BPO world taught me structure, resilience, and how to carry responsibility without flinching.

Then I stepped into a completely different world.

From leading teams, I became rank-and-file again. From a familiar system, I entered a large, legacy institution where things move differently. Where history matters, where processes are layered, and where learning isn’t always visible or immediately rewarded, where feedback are not immediately provided (or given only when it didn't suffice the requirement).

Some days, I’m still figuring out how I fit... and if I would.

There’s a quiet thought at the back of my mind that says: Maybe I won’t be here long. But I don’t think that thought means I want to leave.

I think it means I’m still listening. Generally speaking (or writing).

Listening to who I’m becoming in this space. Listening to whether this environment will stretch me in the ways I want to grow. Listening to whether I can belong here without losing myself.

What makes this season strange and beautiful is that I’m not running away from difficulty. I’m leaning into it. I’m learning new tools, new ways of thinking, new kinds of patience. I’m doing work that didn’t exist before I started. Work that’s quiet, foundational, and often invisible.

... and maybe that’s what makes it hard.

Because when you’re building systems instead of outputs, progress doesn’t always look impressive at first glance. Sometimes it looks slow. Sometimes it looks messy. Sometimes it looks like learning.

But I know this much: I’m not stuck. I’m not burnt out. I’m not failing.

I’m in transition.

For now, that’s enough.

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The One Thing 12 Years of Leadership Taught Me

It’s been a while since my last text post—years, if I’m being exact.

I’ve spent over a decade in leadership roles, primarily as a Team Leader and Supervisor. Over time, roles changed, environments shifted, and responsibilities grew. But one lesson has remained consistent throughout those years—one that continues to shape how I work with people today.

Leadership requires emotional restraint, not emotional reaction.

Early in my career, I was fortunate to have mentors who emphasized something that stayed with me: Once you step into a leadership role, your words and actions carry more weight than you realize.

That weight shows up everywhere—in how instructions are interpreted, how feedback is received, and how people respond to pressure. Whether intentional or not, leaders become reference points. Their tone sets direction. Their reactions shape culture.

And this is a reality many leaders eventually face: one misstep, one poorly handled reaction, and trust erodes faster than performance ever could.

Clarity Is a Leadership Responsibility

When output does not meet expectations, the first question should not be “Why didn’t they get it?” but rather “Was I clear?”

If multiple people misunderstand the same instruction, it’s worth examining whether the issue lies in execution—or in communication. Leadership means taking accountability not only for outcomes, but for how expectations are framed.

Not everyone acclimates at the same pace. Not everyone is immediately confident or vocal. And not everyone feels psychologically safe right away—especially when they are new and still learning the dynamics of a team.

That learning curve deserves patience, not punishment.

Creating Space for Questions

Encouraging questions is meaningless if the environment does not welcome them.

When leaders invite clarification but respond with visible irritation, or delegate questions to “trusted” intermediaries, it sends a clear message: questions are inconvenient. Over time, people stop asking, not because they understand, but because they want to avoid friction.

That silence is not efficiency. It’s disengagement.

Leadership Is About Development, Not Control

The role of a leader is not to command—it is to develop.

That includes coaching, guiding, correcting, and sometimes reprimanding. But even correction requires intention. Feedback should aim to improve performance, not diminish confidence. It should be delivered privately when necessary, and recognition should be given publicly whenever possible.

When emotions dictate reactions, their impact extends beyond the moment. People don’t perform better under fear; they become cautious, distracted, and overly focused on avoiding mistakes rather than doing meaningful work.

Buy-in is earned through trust, not authority.

Emotional Intelligence Is Not Optional

Leadership is demanding by nature. Anyone who accepts a higher role understands that pressure comes with it. Technical skills may open doors—but emotional intelligence determines whether people follow.

In my experience, leadership is less about expertise and more about awareness. Awareness of power dynamics. Awareness of tone. Awareness of how feedback lands, especially for those still learning the system.

That awareness is what sustains teams and what separates positional authority from real leadership.

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Feeling watched? Good.

Let them watch you win.

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My favorite line :)

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My cat is a star but she doesn't know yet

It started with this:

CAT LOVERS PHILIPPINES | Need niya ng 1x1 for the Pet ID | Facebook

Need niya ng 1x1 for the Pet ID. Her name is Loona. Struggle is real. Ayaw niya ng camera 😂 this is after how many clicks/shots.

Then this...

Be An INQUIRER

‘PARANG GALIT PO SIYA’ 😺😂 LOOK: A fur mom from Quezon City delighted netizens after sharing adorable pet identification (ID) pictures of he

and then this:

Pilipino Star Ngayon Digital

'KALMOT KA MAMAYA' 😾❤️ Umani ng iba't ibang reaksyon ang social media post ng netizen na si Jennifer tampok ang adorable 1x1 ID photo ng fu

[jennyisms]

There is no dead end in customer service.

In one way or another we are living the double life as the service provider and a customer. 

Being a customer service provider doesn’t just mean that you have to be working in a call center, answering customer queries via email using templates, or as a cashier at a fast food chain. The moment you answer someone’s question, the time you open and held the door for an elderly and helped them cross the street, when your mom asks you to wash the dishes, or even when your best friend borrows your car – you are providing service.

In a professional setting, there are indeed times that we cannot fulfill our clients’ requests and/or demands. We have policies, processes, and even verbatim to follow which is strictly based on our trainings and knowledge management system. Scripted or not, how can you say no without the customers going irate, nor having a markdown in QA? 

It’s not WHAT you say, but HOW you say it.

Politely decline if you have to, and anticipate the “Why?” right after. 

If you have absorbed the lessons during your training or even from your past experiences, you will be able to explain in detail why you’re saying no, or why you can’t fulfill their requests. When I say explain, tell them the truth and don’t be shady. But make sure that you don’t put yourself or your employer in a bad light. Positive scripting is still important. It’s like telling the customers to look at the bright side because there is always one. Some just tend to ignore it because its not how the way they see it. Explain what they need to know, not what they want to hear.

Think outside of the box. 

Provided that you have already exhausted your resources and you’re still far from getting a 9 or a 10 in NPS, step back and think as the customer. How would you like your questions be answered, and your requests done? For sure, at any time, you know what to do (or want done) if you put yourselves in their situation. If it is beyond your control, seek assistance from someone who can possibly help.

Moving on, I hate to break it to y’all but customers are not always right. But as customers we always have the right to vent frustrations, complain, suggest, leave a feedback, and comment on the products and services we receive – nicely. As customers we do not have the right to be impolite, shout at, be rude, insult, nor degrade the service providers. Remember, we called or asked them for help. We are the ones who need something from them. We are the ones who do not know something and we are seeking their assistance. 

For example, engaging with a customer service representative over the phone because your internet/cable has been cut because you have overlooked your bill due date. If you plan to be a Karen on the onset of the call because it worked the last time and they have reinstated your subscription even without a payment, think again. Most of the CSRs are stressed out because they’re like sponges and shock absorbers of strangers 7-8 hours daily. If you have chanced someone who is so burnout, who knows what will happen to your personal details. Your full name, address, your birthday and any details used for verification are all visible on their end. This is the part where I tell you you may not know who you’re dealing with. Also, before you think otherwise, if they’re naughty enough — yes, they can. I know stories of real people who did. 

But anyhow, probably the key takeaway from all these blabs is be human. We do not know everybody’s struggles, but we all have it. We have challenges, obstacles and battles to beat/overcome. Those are normal, known and present in our daily lives to make us stronger. Use the experiences gained from it wisely.

[jennyisms]

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Drained

[Originally posted on JULY 21, 2021 ]

I rushed my mom twice to the ER the other day (7/16/2021) due to her complaining about an excruciating pain on her left side.

I woke up with her moaning in pain around 7am, so I immediately got up and packed a lot of disinfectants and my laptop (I had to work) and drove to 2 goverment hospitals’ ER. The 1st one just referred us to the 2nd, the 2nd just prescribed meds. They were prioritizing COVID patients, even though their ERs are empty (shoutout to the 2nd which is QCGH). I’m not going to comment on how they handled our situation because I know they have their “reasons”. Since Mom was still in so much pain, we went ahead to Capitol Med. Yes, I know it is private and expensive but fuck it. It’s Mom.

We arrived at around 11am (I had no concept of time, I just wanted the day to be over) and we were immediately attended to. Mom was hooked up to an IV (omeprazole at first, then liquid paracetamol), blood works, urinalysis, and xray were done. When I asked her, she says the pain was level 8 and went to intermittent. There were also times that it goes away. According to her urinalysis, they found specks of blood, so they Rx’d Mom to be CT scanned for suspected kidney stones. During that time I kept on asking her if she can manage the pain, etc. She was like meh, and we were already given prescriptions so we decided that we will sign the waiver to not perform the CT Scan at that moment (the reason and backstory later). We were discharged around 4pm.

I was able to settle a bit when we got home and go back to working. Not even two hours later, Mom was again writhing in pain and she was crying “Lord, please make it stop.” Her pain tolerance is so high that seeing her in that situation was very alarming, so thats when I decided to ask my sister to call an ambulance (I was no longer in the right mental and emotional state to drive at that moment) while I prepare the stuff we need in case she gets confined.

We were brought again to Capitol Med because at least they already know us, the guard was literally like “Uy, parang kanina lang…”. We agreed to do the CT Scan and results says the pain is caused by kidney stones.

Also, even though my Mom doesn’t feel anything, they saw an 8x12x12 benign cyst on her right ovaries. While the doctor assured us its nothing and can be treated easily, they referred us to an OB GYN, who explained the next steps for treatment to us.

Honestly at that point, I hear garbled messages. I can no longer process anything because all I worry about was how the fuck am I going to pay for the hospital bills because I am super bankrupt.

The Backstory: I was retrenched in December 2020 and we were trying to survive off my separation pay (which isn’t that big amount so if you ask me, no I didn’t even have the chance to enjoy it). In April 2021, I got a freelancing job and I am in contract until December, which I am very thankful for. But what I earn is just enough for the utility bills and monthly groceries for 3 people. Yes, I also have been the provider in this house.

I only have Php 1,000 ($20) in my bank account. I have 2 credit cards that I have not been using and been paying off so I can cut it.

But I had to. I maxed out the limit of my first credit card to settle the hospital bills during our ER Visit #1. I had no choice but to do the same for my second to pay off ER Visit #2, not to mention the prescribed medicines worth 2 weeks. Oh btw, the OB GYN consultation fee needed to be paid in cash, so yeah goodbye 1k. Before, I psych myself bankrupt but I still have like 10k+ in the bank. But now, I am literally, really, very, zero balance.

At this point I am not sure how will I be able to bring her to a urologist, another OB GYN session and possible operation.

Well, going back to the main story… we got home around 12am. Mom was still in pain but at least we know the cause. Also, the pain reliever works so Mom was able to sleep enough.

I am still mentally and emotionally drained. Most of all, financially.

So that’s how the day went.

[jenniefromdblock]

Is ghosting just a thing or part of the process?

[FYR: Originally posted in August 2021. Edits have been made. This is just a repost from my Wordpress site. ]

Regardless of the results, we appreciate any kind of feedback. I mean, I know people who get frustrated when their partners don’t reply to the “Have you eaten?” question. 😅

As someone who has sent more than a hundred job applications, I’ve only received around 20 templated emailsinforming me that they would not be moving forward with my application because they found someone more suitable for the role.

It’s not as detailed as I would have preferred — like explaining why I didn’t get the job — but at least I got something, compared to receiving nothing at all after going through multiple interviews (one over the phone and two via Zoom).

It is still important not to ignore or “ghost” applicants, even if they did not pass the screening process. Why?

1. Feedback helps applicants understand what they need to improve. Whether it’s how they answered during the interview or if they need more experience for the position, even a short response can help. Of course, we understand that recruiters may be overwhelmed if there’s only one position and hundreds of applicants. But something is still better than nothing.

2. It helps applicants know if they can move forward with other opportunities. Recruiters may know that applicants are applying to several companies at once. But naturally, we tend to prioritize the ones who actually respond.

3. It reflects the company’s culture. If simple feedback cannot be given, it raises questions about how the company manages its processes and treats people.

4. Applicants invest time and effort. We don’t just click “Apply,” attach files, and hit send. There’s mental and emotional preparation involved. We revise our CVs multiple times, review job descriptions carefully, answer application questions, and complete forms before submitting.

5. It affects mental health. Receiving even a short update can ease the anxiety of waiting and wondering whether the application is still being considered.

These are just my personal thoughts. If you’re a recruiter and somehow find this offensive (for lack of a lighter term), maybe it’s worth considering how the hiring process could be improved.

After all, even in real life, we don’t want to leave people hanging — and I doubt anyone enjoys that. 😉