Friday-night lessons
It was one of the most awaited days of the month: Friday payday! Fat wallets were once again the most important possessions, and so people didn’t mind shelling out some bucks for appetite satisfaction, and shopping and booze sessions.
I always can’t wait for Friday, and not only for the universal reason that most paydays fall on it. It seems petty, but it’s only in the last working day of the week that we get to strut our civilian clothing, our way of rebellion against the hideous office uniforms that we wear from Monday to Thursday. So instead of dwelling on our conservative office culture, which I basically cannot change, the least I can do is prepare for fab Friday.
I meticulously assembled my outfit that morning because it had earlier been planned that there would be dinner at a Korean restaurant where most foreign and local employees dine. I made sure that my outfit would look chic but still exude that corporate vibe. I picked a black and white polka dot dress, a half-blazer coat, a stone necklace, and pointed-toe flats. To complete the look, I chose a doctor-style handbag.
Among my great fashion finds, the bag was what I was most proud of. I’ve earned countless praise since the day I started carrying it. A colleague once asked how much it cost me, and I answered “29” ($29). Surprisingly, she thought it was P29,000, which I took as a compliment. But there was one comment that stood out because it was a warning that the bag could draw the attention of thieves: “Naku, takaw atensyon, ingat ka sa magnanakaw.” True enough, on that fateful night I realized that I should have heeded the warning.
After an enjoyable dinner, my colleagues decided to continue conversations at the nearest coffee shop. I declined to join them because I had a terrible cold. We parted ways, and I was soon to have a taste of bad luck.
It was between 9 and 10 p.m. It wasn’t my first time to go home late. Work can be so demanding sometimes that we have to pull an all-nighter. Going home alone wasn’t a big deal for me either. My route includes passing Gil Puyat (Buendia) Avenue in Makati—for me an assurance that there would be other commuters heading to my area.
My runny nose was the worst and I couldn’t wait to get home and doze off. The idea of grabbing a cab was tempting, but my stingy nature again prevailed.
I got on the PRC jeepney along with a guy who sat on the opposite side near the driver’s seat, quite far from my place near the entrance. The guy looked like the usual call-center employee carrying a jacket. Seconds later, another guy with a backpack who looked like a construction worker entered the jeepney. He sat across from the first guy. Last came a huge man with a shaved head, wearing a red shirt and old jeans, who sat across from me.
I had no inkling of danger when we passed a dark area where there were no open establishments. The huge man opposite me told the driver to pull over. I thought he might have forgotten his wallet because he was reaching for something from his back pocket. Much to my dismay, he glanced at the man sitting on the same side as me—and, lo and behold, pulled out a gun!
The huge man declared that no one should dare move. It was like one of those holdup scenes on TV, which I never imagined I would experience first-hand. My effort to think straight was useless. The call-center guy looked equally stunned when the gun was pointed at his head. His mobile phone was grabbed from his hand. The other man roughly seized my bag. My most precious bag! My everything was there! I felt helpless. I was trembling.
When the robbers got what they wanted, they alighted, commanded the driver to continue driving, then fled.
I had to commend the other victim for keeping his cool. Had he been hysterical, it would have been more traumatic for me. He said his wallet was spared and only his phone was taken. I exclaimed with shock and frustration that I had lost my bag and all that it held: “Buong bag ko nakuha. Wala na ako kahit ano!” He tried to console me by saying that there was nothing we could do about what had happened.
We reported the incident to the police. In response, they invited us to go with the ronda patrol, hoping that the robbers would still be spotted near the area while waiting for other victims. But the brutes weren’t dumb enough to think that way.
After more questions from the police, I decided to go home although the blotter was not yet complete. There’s nothing worse than being sick and robbed at the same time. The only thing I wanted to do at that moment was to rest. On top of that, I needed energy to explain what had happened to everyone the following day.
From my mishap, I have learned three things:
• Never be too complacent. Even if you’ve been taking just one route half your life, it pays to take extra precaution. Admittedly, I was not too vigilant when the robbery occurred. As trite as it may sound, never risk your life walking in dark streets. When commuting, choose your transport carefully. Don’t ride a jeepney in a “hotspot,” or if you are alone or there are only a few of you. When riding a taxi, send its name and plate number to the people closest to you by text.
• Follow your intuition. Often we neglect our instinct, sticking to our rational selves. I should have taken the taxi that night but I resisted the urge. The robbery would have been prevented. It’s as if God’s warning is being communicated in this form, so better act on your kutob when you feel that something is just not right.
• Don’t put everything in one bag. If you’re just going to work/school, bring only the necessary stuff. Unfortunately, I was carrying a pretty sum that was supposed to cover my house rent. I was carrying as well all my identification cards—my company and government IDs, my privilege cards, and, boy, even my college ID. Imagine my depression when I realized that my college ID was taken. I will never have that freshman look again, and of course the stickers every semester!
You may be wondering how I was able to get home that night. Well, it was so nice of the other victim to offer me P100. I told him that P20 would suffice for jeepney fare, but he insisted that I take a cab instead. For that, I can never thank him enough.
I rode a taxi with only the P100 he gave me.
After telling the driver my destination, I shared with him how unlucky I was that night. Then when I was about to pay him, he refused to accept the money and told me to take care: “Okay na, Miss. Wag ka na magbayad. Ingat ka.” It actually brought me to tears. Manong driver restored my wavering faith in humanity. My Friday wasn’t that bad, after all.
Aivy Soriano, 24, is a member of the marketing staff of a Japanese shipping company and a graduate of the University of the Philippines Los Baños.
