Company Training Day 2025 (Part 3): Pastries, Humanoids, and Gustavo’s Brush with Destiny

Saturday Training Day 2025 wasn’t done with Gustavo yet. After pastries, speeches, and the awkward attempts of management to inject “fun” into corporate learning, the final act of the day pushed the boundaries of reason. Between buffet food comas, Quality Assurance lectures, and what may or may not have been an alien invasion, this part of Gustavo’s journey proved that absurdity can strike even at the heart of a corporate event.

Post-Buffet Chaos

Bellies stretched, belts loosened, and yawns echoed through the lavish hotel function hall. The coffee station became a battlefield as overstuffed employees fought for caffeine to survive the dreaded “afternoon slump.”

But there was Gustavo, a man with his own strategy: a fresh plate of roasted chicken wings and potato wedges.

“Damn, Gustavo! Really making the most of it, huh?” Gaspar said, eyeing his teammate’s fourth plate.

“I don’t plan on buying dinner tonight, man. This is paid for already,” Gustavo replied mid-bite, chicken grease shining proudly on his lips.

Before anyone could argue, Archie’s voice cut through the murmurs:

“We now welcome Sandy, our Chief of Quality Assurance, to discuss the 3 R’s of effective quality management. Please give her a round of applause.”

A slow, half-hearted clap rolled across the room. Underwriting was still outside on a smoke break. Claims was on the brink of a food coma. And Sandy… Sandy had the unenviable job of keeping an uninterested, burping crowd awake.

“Quality gets the short end again,” Gustavo muttered, scarfing down his wedges. “Nobody likes the fault-finders.”

The Humanoids Arrive

Then, everything changed.

Company Training Day 2025 (Part 2): Pastries, Speeches, and Starfish

If you’re wondering why Gustavo’s at a hotel instead of in bed watching anime, rewind to Part 1—it explains everything (sort of).

Training Day 2025 pressed on. The welcome ceremonies passed in a blur of applause and polite reverence. Jon, flying in from Australia, congratulated the Philippine branch for keeping the Asia-Pacific and North America portfolio in good order. Archie followed, accepting the praise on behalf of the branch. Each speech earned the respectful applause of the crowd.

Gustavo, however, had other priorities. He was knee-deep in an assortment of deluxe pastries rarely available to him.

Pastries Over Protocol

“Gustavo, come on…” Zoey whispered as she walked past, exasperated at his irreverence.

“Hey, just getting my hazard pay,” Gustavo quipped, a grin forming as he held up his croissant.

Zoey rolled her eyes, but with a faint smile. She had bigger things to worry about than Gustavo’s sugar intake.

Manila Floods and Forgotten Promises: An Absurd Tale of a Vagabond, Watermelon Seeds, and Smiling Politicians

The rains in Manila did not fall — they collapsed, like a billion buckets overturned by a drunken god. Jeepneys bobbed like bathtub toys, tricycles spun like lost tops, and office workers scurried in their pressed clothes, darting into malls where the air-conditioning roared louder than the storm. From the safety of glass walls and fluorescent light, they watched the world blur into gray water, and then politely forgot it existed.

Far away yet still in the same city, a vagabond sat in a half-drowned basketball court. The court had once hosted sweaty neighborhood games, but now it served as an ark for one man, one dog, and a collapsing kingdom of cardboard boxes. His lips — cracked, swollen, mutinous from too many watermelon seeds — seemed to spell a wordless hymn. He smiled anyway, as though each seed carried the punchline to a cosmic joke only he could hear.

Company Training Day 2025 (Part 1): Gustavo’s Saturday of Coffee and Chaos

Saturday mornings are usually sacred for Gustavo — a time when his head rests peacefully on his pillow as anime streams on his phone. But on this particular Saturday, instead of pajamas, he was dressed in office attire, standing in line with colleagues for his company’s much-anticipated Training Day 2025.

The venue was no ordinary meeting hall. A lavish hotel function room buzzed with life as employees from every department converged. The Engagement Team cheered loudly, their energy infecting even the most reluctant attendees.

The Arrival of the Big Bosses

The atmosphere shifted as familiar faces from newsletters and email blasts — the company’s top brass — made their way into the lobby.

“Oh my, that’s Boss Archie.”

“Wow! Jon made it all the way from Australia?”

Murmurs of amazement swept the room. Then came Gustavo’s unmistakable voice:

“Well kiss my lips and call me Sally! He’s here! It’s Gaspar! The greatest of us all!”

Gustavo enthusiastically high fives his teammate Gaspar who had just arrived. His antics earned chuckles from his small circle of friends, though most eyes remained glued to the higher-ups.

A Quiet Saturday Morning That Didn’t Last Long

In a quiet suburban neighborhood in Laguna, the sound of birds, children at play, and neighbors at work paints the perfect Saturday morning. But for Gustavo, coffee in hand and cigarette smoke curling in the air, that peace is fragile—easily broken by the sudden buzz of his phone.

A quiet Saturday morning unfolds in the neighborhood. Birds are chirping, chickens are clucking, and kids are playing in the sunlit streets. The golden rays kiss the dampened community, still fresh from last night’s rain.

Inside a well-lit room, Gustavo—a rotund man known for his quirks—clutches his pillow and lets out a calm groan as he stretches his limbs. For once, he wakes without the shrill scream of his alarm clock. The silence is strange but comforting.

The Death of Cornelius: Gustavo’s Sanity, Basketball Fan, and Debt-Ridden Abstract Concept

Cornelius, the fragile embodiment of Gustavo’s sanity, officially expired on August 29, 2025. Known in the neighborhood as both a stabilizing force and a suspiciously well-dressed abstract concept, Cornelius balanced his days with basketball, motorcycle joyrides on his beloved 2023 Honda CB400, and occasional wrestling matches with his loyal pet komodo dragon, Alfred.

Once rumored to be a mildly racist ex-SS commander (though records remain unclear), Cornelius heroically contained the chaos of one man’s overcaffeinated mind. He is survived by 14 wives, 5 sons, 9 daughters, Alfred the dragon, and a mountain of crippling debt that would make even the most forgiving bank manager weep.

Cornelius will be missed, mostly by creditors.

Cornelius, sanity in a suit—basketball in hand, dragon debt unpaid.

Cornelius may be gone, but the absurdity lives on. For more chaotic tales, don’t miss Bang Bang, Bayan! — The Memoirs of a Sentient Pistol in WWII Philippines

Read here.

Nostalgia in Manila: Gustavo’s Story of Basketball, Gin, and Friendship

Gustavo, now in his 30s and working a corporate job, looks back on his Manila college days filled with basketball, cheap gin, cigarettes, and unforgettable friendships.

Once a backdrop to basketball games, cheap gin, and carefree laughter, the College of Fine Arts now lives on in Gustavo’s memories of youth.

A hot, unrelenting sun bore down on the cracked pavement of the College of Fine Arts parking lot. Yet a cool breeze, almost out of place in the Manila heat, drifted through the trees, carrying with it the chatter of birds and the restless whisper of leaves. The scene was tranquil—until Gustavo shattered it.

“HELL YEAH!”

The cheer tore through the air like a gunshot. A rotund student in a blue polo and Crocs, Gustavo threw his arms skyward after sinking a basket on a makeshift hoop. His victory dance was as graceless as it was excessive, hips thrusting into the wind, voice echoing with triumph.

“WHO’S YOUR DADDY, BABY? EAT IT! LOVE IT! GET USED TO IT!”