7 weeks working in this crazy city...

Businesses are trying to save a buck wherever they can these days, and outsourced call centres are prime prey for cutbacks. Call centre offshoring happens to just about every company sooner or later, and now its our turn. 20% of our calls are being shifted out of Australia to Manila. I was sent to train these Filipino folks for 7 weeks. The following posts tell the story.

Thursday, September 23, 2010

The night out

It's never a good idea to go out on a school night. It's even less of a good idea to go out on a school night when you have to get up at 6:30 the next morning.

The exodus from Manila has begun. One of the client reps leaves today, so last night was a bit of a farewell bash for her, and for Crissy's sister who has been visiting for the last week. The plan was to have a few drinks at a bar, then dance up a storm at RnB night at the Intercontinental's club iCon. We kicked things off at the Outback Steakhouse bar, which does enormous jugs of Mojitos and Margaritas. We were the only white girls in the place, amid the throngs of older white males and their RAFs (Rent-A-Friend). Sex tourism is an interesting phenomenon in the Philippines, as in other Asian countries I've visited. Even the largest, most hideous white businessman can get a little Filipina friend to hang off his arm for an evening, and even perform "special services" for the low price of about $50 a night. A quick google search yesterday revealed an entire directory of organisations offering escort services, clubs with dancing girls, and places to hook up discreetly. And the bar last night was packed with RAFs already hooked up, as well as unattached RAFs in the making looking to recruit their next friend.

We enjoyed our cocktails and giggled at the scene around us. We saw a famous Canadian UFC fighter enter the restaurant above, complete with entourage and camera crew. Crissy's sister got rather excited and tried (and failed) to shimmy her way up there to say hi and take a photo. A little drama played out before us, as an intoxicated RAF in the making got a little loud and raucous in the recruitment process and was asked to leave the bar. She and her wingman (woman?) did so with a great stomping of feet and unintelligible yelling. The American boys who had been dealing with her got a drink on the house for their patience. Drama dealt with, until about 10 minutes later when drunk-girl returned and tried to coerce the bouncer into letting her in. A loooooong and amusing negotiation process followed until she finally gave up and stomped off, banging her hands along the windows as she left.

With that done and our drinks empty, we wandered across the road to the Intercontinental. The iCon club is open several nights a week and pulls a pretty big Filipino and white crowd. Thursday nights at iCon are RnB nights. Since the group of people I'm here with seems to only dance to this loathsome stuff, Thursday was the night to go. As we wandered up the entryway to the club, we were blocked by the bouncers who explained that the club was closed for a private function, and only the guests of the Canadian fighter (who was still over the road enjoying his dinner) were allowed to enter. We stood outside and pouted. Looked like the night was over for us. But as we did so, fighter-guy (I'm sure he has a name but I can't remember it) blew past us in a great flashing of cameras. Not to be left out, one of our group quickly fell in line behind the entourage and slipped into the club. She returned a few minutes later, assuring the door staff that "Harry" had given us all permission to enter the venue and join the party. Not sure who "Harry" was, but borrowing his name got us all in!

The club was packed. A huge downstairs dancefloor was full of dancing bodies, and the VIP balcony upstairs was lined with fancy types. We joined the plebs downstairs and danced for a while. I was pleasantly surprised to find that not all the music was Rnb - there was a decent selection of house and electro. The mixing was abysmal - the DJ needed an urgent lesson in beatmatching and song selection. But it was music, and a few jager-bombs later the transitions weren't quite so grating.

Something I should mention - Filipinos REALLY like white people. Especially blondes. This is great for us, because we have two blondies in our group. Its gotten us all kinds of benefits so far, and last night was no different. About half an hour in, the club owner came down and invited one blondie (and us) to join him and his friends on the VIP balcony. We climbed up, and were immediately surrounded by a large group of friendly guys wanting to chat and offer us free drinks, which we took eagerly :p We hung out and danced with them in a big group - first upstairs on the balcony and then down on the dancefloor. It was pretty cool to be adopted by such friendly strangers - even if one did take a particular shine to me and try to convince me to go home with him. According to him, what happens in the Philippines, stays in the Philippines. Unconvinced.

3am rocked around, and I finally decided I was too buggered to bop anymore. 3 and a half hours sleep later, I'm up again for work. I might still be slightly intoxicated. If anyone wants me, I'll be sleeping under my desk.

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