Reason #5,643,298 why “she” beats Flourshit on any given day*

When I received that registry notice from the post office, I thought it was either of two things: (1) my crazy uncle used registered mail instead of normal mail, contrary to my instructions or (2) the Supreme Court, which happens to be spitting distance from where I work, mailed the bar results and because of the embarrassing confidential nature of the grades, opted to use registered mail instead of normal mail. Either way, it means that I’d have to hustle my ass over to the Las Pinas Post Office which just happens to keep the same office hours as my workplace.

Great. Just great.

However, my boss chose this day to leave early which meant it was the perfect time for me to leave early too and find myself in the parcel section of the post office. And contrary to my expectations, the package wasn’t from my uncle nor was it from the Supreme Court. It was from “her”.

Now being the girl who tries to find me a copy of Memoirs of a Geisha without Zhang Ziyi on the cover isn’t the kind who’d send an ordinary package so imagine the custom official’s face when she slit open the package and found a package wrapped in pink wrapping tissue with a pretty ribbon tied around it. Unsatisfied, the girl poked the ends open and started checking the contents.

“Chocolate, ata,” she muttered to her assistant. She then pulls out a small yellow plastic box, “At paperclips.” After almost five minutes of trying to figure out the other contents of the package (and also probably trying to figure out why anyone would send paperclips halfway across the world), she gave her okay and the package was finally handed over to me.

Eschewing the pretty pink package in lieu of the card that the customs person ignored, I did not only learn that my pretty pink package contained things that can get this now-lazy, very tired, and very stressed out government employee through another couple months of studying, but I also learned what each of the special things she included inside meant: Lindt chocolates, for all the happy hormones that they can kick in; pretty stick-on note pads, for all the tiny notes that I’d write myself while studying (including one that will say, “puta, rox, you’re a week behind your study schedule already!”); a bright yellow box containing six different types of yellow paper clips (and not one looks like the standard issue paper clips you get at work), for keeping my stuff together; and a tiny tin of “make-out mints”, if and when the time comes for me to make out with the boy of my dreams.

Mwah. Mwah. Mwah.

My dear ex-future-sister-in-law,

From the first time you sent me that cute Gap Christmas package, you’ve already wowed me not only with your presents, but with your thoughtfulness. My brother has always been worried that my weak spot for lovely presents will cause me a whole lot of trouble once I begin working for the government, but so far, I’ve been keeping my nose clean.

Thank you for being the best bar-exam-cheerleader in the North America. Let me just say that if not for your surprise present, I may not have gotten through the hundred or so pages I was able to finish tonight.

See you in July!

*not that Flourshit ever had a fighting chance!