Wednesday

Netnet Camomot

ANY national convention has a dress code. There’s the blue shirt with yellow print, the yellow shirt with blue print. If you’ve not been informed or didn’t care to know, you’ll be the black-top-and-jeans amidst the blues and yellows, the Wednesday in a sea of Joy, SpongeBob, and Donald Duck whose colors are op chors blue and yellow.

Wednesday as in Addams Family. Black circles under the eyes, black dress, black hair. So dark, so sad.

A convention’s formal occasion usually requires formal attire–long gown, coat and tie, barong. T-shirt and jeans will be the odd one out again amidst a sea of beads, sequins and jewelry. Real jewelry? Hmmm. If you’re rich, no one would ever guess your earrings are puwet of the baso.

Conventions are usually held out of town unless your hometown is the host. By that time, the T-shirts have been ordered and–gasp!–sewn, complete with logos. If you don’t have that set of shirts by then, you can always go for the business attire–black blazer, black slacks, and the blue or yellow top. You’ll still be the odd one out but at least you have the required blue or yellow.

For other organizations, the colors could be neon green, yellow or orange. You have to know the color of the day otherwise you’ll be the only neon green in a sea of orange.

The neon green is the only “organizational” shirt you have, so it became your uniform for Saturday and Sunday. That’s the XL shirt picked as a prize at the Christmas party, no thanks to this hard habit to break of choosing bigger sizes despite the weight loss. So, there you are, looking like you’re about to sleep in your neon green nightshirt.

At the conference, however, you’re busy having photo ops with the mascot for your favorite protein shake flavor, French vanilla, and waiting for the Aloe Mango mascot whose handlers are not allowing photo ops for now. This was unthinkable four months ago when breakfast was bacon and eggs, the only shake you loved was mango with no aloe, and aloe used to be this sabila that dad used to rub on his hair.

Now, you’re drinking aloe like the way you drunk tequila–jiggers of it, and one thing comes to mind: Does aloe allow tagay?

You now have an antidote for lechon: six tabs of Fiberbond pre-lechon; two jiggers of aloe post-lechon. But despite the warning that red meat is dangerous, lechon remains as the best indulgence on a cheat day. You would reserve a day’s allowed calories for that.

At this convention, however, lechon is nowhere to be found. Only chicken and fish are allowed. For drinks, there’s water. No soda, no fruit juices, no iced tea, no alcohol, not even red wine. For the awards night toast, there was aloe. Yes, aloe–the aloe mango. Cheers! The following day, the toast was made possible by the protein shake in the shaker. These were the convention’s two constants: protein shake and shaker. With aloe as the, uh, third wheel.

The shaker, protein shake, and PPP are the three most important accessories at this convention. The shaker especially is the item to bring daily and if you somehow forgot to bring yours, this duhness frustrates you, enough to make you think of leaving this whole convention and go shopping, go eat all the bad food you’ve been avoiding in the last four months, and go back home. But then, you’ll gain back all the pounds lost, back to square one, back to the size-38 jeans. So, you eat the bread that a co-dieter shares with you. Cheat day galore. Yes, even bread is regarded as cheat-day food. Wheat or rye or whatever flour is used, bread is not allowed.

There’s an awardee who has been with the company for 20 years. But the ones who joined first are not exactly millionaires now since a career is still a personal choice with or without this company that will of course continue with or without you.

It’s the young ones, though, who are making this convention fun and funny, inspiring you to laugh like a hyena again. But the young once are the real inspiration as they share the learning experiences that brought them to the top of the company’s hierarchy. Those who are not at the top yet would rush to the stage to get the signature of each speaker. The speakers are the rock stars in this convention, and those who are still on their journey to the top wish they’ll be there onstage, too, someday as a speaker or as an awardee.

The newbie, however, is merely watching every single thing, observing, including the fish and chicken that banished from the buffet tables, inspiring him to tell the wait staff, who op chors had no connection whatsoever with the delays in the kitchen, that the four-star hotel is now three-star, and if the fish and chicken are replenished an hour later, it’s down to two-star. And some of the hotel’s rest room cubicle doors have no locks, making you wonder if it’s now down to one-star.

There’s a long and winding line to the water dispenser. For the shake.

But at the start of any convention session or function, doors are opened at the last minute, inspiring the 2,000 delegates to rush towards the door, and if you’re the kind who has been there, done that with concerts that also open the doors at the last minute, your greatest fear is being trapped in that mob. Or your face glued to that door. O my gas. But this could be part of their team building, to see who reached the front rows first. The Asia Pacific conference will have ten times of that 2,000 rushing to the door. Be ready with your armor: shake, PPP, and aloe.