• REBEE MARGEAUX M. LATUMBO
Never in my whole life did I imagine graduating with Latin honors. Not when the only time I went up on stage was to receive my graduation diploma for grade school and junior high. Well, except for a Conduct award once, which I found more awkward than questionable, considering my boisterous character. My name always topped the “noisy list,” and at some point, I was asked to leave the classroom a few times.
Then came senior high: a new school, a new set of classmates. They called me the “small student with a big mouth,” a remark I never took seriously. Being an extrovert, I always looked on the bright side of life.
In Grade 12, the pandemic happened. The widespread shift to lockdown, popularly termed community quarantine, ECQ, and MECQ in the Philippines, practically changed my routine. Domestic chores increased. The saddest part? I had no baon (allowance) for the entire lockdown period. Without outdoor ganaps or social events with friends, I focused on my studies instead. From then on, I learned how to manage my schedule productively. I spent more time preparing flashcard reviewers, highlighted with colored pens and memes to keep me entertained and awake while reading, a habit I continued into college. Even my classmates asked to copy the reviewers I made.
Inspired by my strong performance in senior high school despite being confined at home, I set my life goals and was determined to achieve them. “I need to prove to myself that I am not just the happy-go-lucky Rebee; I can be more.”
We didn’t have a graduation ceremony during senior high, which would have been my first time receiving recognition on stage for academic merit. And I missed my debut celebration, too.
Despite financial difficulties, my parents, Papa Jimboi and Mama Queenie, provided us, their four children, with a comfortable life. This has been my greatest motivation to study harder and reach my goals.
I chose Tourism over other courses because I wanted to explore different cities, learn about other cultures and traditions, connect with people, and experience new lifestyles. This, despite discouraging comments I read on social media: “Tourism lang naman yan, kabisado ka lang ng mga bansa o di kaya ikot-ikot ka lang sa buong mundo, tourism na yun.”
It took me some time to research which specific Tourism course I should take and at which university, considering financial factors and distance. I chose the Bachelor of Science in International Tourism and Travel Management at Lyceum of the Philippines University in Intramuros, Manila, a mouthful name for an undergraduate course that equated to the long list of confusing international travel codes I needed to memorize. The curriculum was perfectly aligned with my career goals in tourism, travel, and customer service.
I was a consistent Dean’s Lister, but felt bad scoring my lowest grade of 2.0 (line of 80) in the Ticketing subject. How could anyone memorize the codes on IATA, Opera, and Amadeus systems, in alphanumeric and abbreviations, in just one day? My memory’s limited absorptive capacity can only process either digits or letters, but not when they’re combined.
Though the university had its share of shortcomings, unforeseen and escalating miscellaneous fees, poor handling of student complaints, and late suspension announcements during typhoons and flooding, which inconvenienced students from outside Manila, there’s still so much to be thankful for. Apart from boosting my confidence in public speaking, the university taught me character formation and values that improved my social interaction skills and sense of maturity. Customer service is my passion, and I feel fulfilled with every compliment and simple smile from my clients.
My journey from being an average student to receiving Magna Cum Laude honors had its share of struggles, shenanigans, and commute trauma.
During the pandemic, we attended two subjects via online classes in the morning, each running for three hours. The Zoom fatigue from sitting six hours in front of the computer took its toll on me, and my afternoons were mostly spent sleeping to recharge for another round of projects and assignments at night. While others studied 2–5 hours before an exam or woke up at dawn, I always reviewed before going to sleep and placed my reviewers under my pillow, as if I were still studying in my dreams. I kept a stash of peanuts, chocolate, milk, and water in my room to keep my mind hydrated. I took short naps or scrolled through TikTok for that burst of energy to stay awake late into the night. As a confessed procrastinator and night owl, I performed best when racing against the 11:59 deadline.
When face-to-face classes resumed, I finally had baon! On the first school day in the new normal, I wasn’t familiar with my commute route. Running late for class, my classmate and I hailed an e-bike from the LRT station to LPU, and the driver charged us P100 per passenger. “Wait, budol si kuya ah!” I mentally calculated whether I could still afford a decent meal and get home with the money I had left. After we discovered our walking route, which only took 15 minutes each way, we never rode the e-bike again.
I would wake up at 4:30 AM, all set to leave by 5:30 AM. From hailing a jeepney, often fully loaded, to playing patintero with LRT commuters, to walking a couple of kilometers to the university, my fresh makeup had turned to sweat and smudge by the time I reached the classroom. Going home, I had to arrive at the train station before 4 PM to avoid rush hour.
Remember the urban legend about white vans used in kidnappings that spread like wildfire on social media? Our parents bought us pepper sprays for self-defense, which I proudly showed to my classmates. In the middle of a class discussion, someone stole the spray from my bag and passed it around. Annoyed and furious, I shouted at the whole class, and the room suddenly went silent. My thoughts ran wild, imagining classmates suffering from burning, temporary blindness, and difficulty breathing, knowing we had people with asthma in the room. I never expected I could display such an enraged reaction. For the first time in my life, I was called to the guidance office.
I’ve had embarrassing experiences with stairs in every school I attended, but the most unforgettable was during college. In my pencil-cut school uniform and two-inch heels, I suddenly started sliding down the side railings of the stairs. It was slippery, alright, I ended up diving face-down all the way to the bottom. I entered my next class with a reddish, swollen forehead and cheeks, and cuts on my knee, which were covered by my stockings.
Sometimes during class breaks, when our group of friends just wanted to laze around, we’d go to our barkada’s condominium unit near campus. I played on her outdoor swing quite a lot. One day, though, I must have been in deep reverie because I accidentally let go of the swing handle. I fell, bumping my head really hard. My friends saw my ugly cry for the first time.
When I started my on-the-job training at a hotel in Pasay City, a two-hour commute for the 30-kilometer distance, I had to be up by 3 AM to prepare and catch the first train. I made it a point to arrive early so I could glam up for the 7 AM call time as a concierge trainee. I especially requested daytime duty because it was the busiest and happiest hour at the hotel. One morning, the train wasn’t crowded, so I sat at the end of the carriage for a comfortable rest. Just as the train doors closed after passengers alighted at the station before my stop, a man with red, swollen eyes suddenly grabbed my hand and demanded I give him my cellphone. “Kung hindi mo ibibigay, may nag-aabang na sa’yo sa susunod na station,” he whispered in a low, scary voice. His grip was so tight that I froze and handed him my four-month-old iPhone, a cherished gift from my sister.
Still utterly shocked, I approached the LRT guards as soon as I got off the train. They lent me their mobile phone so I could call my mother and brother. I managed to reach the hotel and broke down as soon as I saw my supervisor. She advised me to go home since I couldn’t function properly. I dropped by the police station to file a blotter report. I tried to stop myself from crying and shaking during the long commute home. Once home, I poured out all my tears of regret, anger, and trauma to my mother. My mind repeatedly chanted, “Habang buhay na di ka uunlad” to the snatcher. I took a day off to cool down from the trauma. The next day, I went back to the same early morning commute to work, smiling and joking about the grim incident as if nothing had happened. Of course, Rebee has moved on.
I trained under PTC Aviation as part of my OJT to complete the required 400 hours. It was a memorable experience, I got to feel what it was like to be a flight attendant, even for a brief moment. They even had an airplane simulator. We were taught first aid techniques and emergency procedures, essential skills for an FA. Surprisingly, I received the Customer Service award, probably because I consistently smiled throughout the simulation exams while handling passengers. The amount we paid for the training was worth every peso.
I’ve always dreamed of becoming a flight attendant, despite the sad truth that I stand two centimeters short of the minimum height requirement. But who knows—rules are made to be broken. And in this digital age of diversity and inclusion, I may be flying at 30,000 feet in the future. ||
(The writer is the daughter of Silaynon Jaime Latumbo, a Multi-Media Arts professor, and Regina Mozo of Malabon City, a former banker.)
