Privilege, entitlement, and first world problems
This afternoon, our company had a function at The Penthouse 8747. The place is nice. Mahangin. The couches are comfy. The view is great. Except for this eyesore of a building construction inside Ayala Triangle that threatens to consume the only remaining patch of green in this frkn district. Unless they’re building a multi-level botanical garden, which is highly unlikely, I hope they consider the environmental implications of crowding the city with more dead blocks. Ayala needs more life (that is not human). They’re building monsters.
Back to The Penthouse. They served cocktails. Thin-ass pizza, malnourished chicken tenders, and mini crab cakes. They all tasted great. But the portions were too small. Having a controlled pica pica buffet sounds a bit too much for me. We already can’t eat a lot, and still you control it by serving much less. It’d be more effective if they laid out saucers instead of regular plates. Funny thing is, I was okay when they started serving. They’d give two of each. At least to the people in front of me. When it was my turn to receive their breaded goodness, a new waiter appeared, “Pre, isa isa lang”. And so my plate was bare.
Anywaaay. I came back for round two so I’m definitely not complaining…. yet.
Until I got sleepy and felt the need to buy some coffee. I borrowed money and stepped out a bit to buy a medium cup of brewed coffee from 7-Eleven. It’s only 29 pesos. Havey. I love City Blends. When I came back, the guard at The Penthouse won’t let me in. “Ma’am bawal po magdala nyan sa loob”, referring to my cheap coffee. Boy was I hurt. And it hurt more because I know one of my colleagues inside was able to bring in a venti drink from Starbucks, it was sitting right across me before I left.
Even though I could say that 1) we have a reservation, and 2) but you allowed outside coffee inside…. I decided not to argue because I was feeling super sleepy. And besides, my phone is dying so I wouldn’t have anything to do inside. I decided to go back to the office, feeling defeated and dejected. I wish I had a privilege card I could play, damn that would be useful. It’s during these times I know having privilege and influence would work. I got no pretty card, no sex-appeal card, no intimidating card, no well-dressed card, and apparently no starbucks card. These are just a few of the cards that grants you access to places even if you don’t ask. So what’s an overweight, poorly dressed girl holding cheap coffee’s gotta do? Play the nice card and leave. It’s all I got.
But of course, to let off some steam, I did a very offended-millennial thing. Duh, I ranted on Instagram.
I was just joking ofc. Rules are rules. But The Penthouse replied and apologized, even sending me a pic of who I thought brought outside coffee inside. It was their staff. I clarified by saying that’s not who I was referring to, and that it was a fellow guest they allowed to bring coffee in. They probably just missed it. And of course I just had to let my mind wander to privilege and discrimination charot.