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!”

Friday at the Office: Corporate Coldness, SLAs, and the Countdown to Freedom

Brightly lit corporate office on a Friday afternoon with employees working at their desks

Intro:

Friday afternoons in corporate offices often carry a unique mix of pressure, exhaustion, and anticipation. This is the story of Gustavo, his team, and the clock that measures both their work and their freedom.

---

The Pressure of SLAs

The chatter of voices, the clicking of mice, and the clacking of keyboards fill the office on a Friday afternoon. Employees push through the final hours of the week, racing to meet their department’s Service Level Agreements (SLAs) before the clock strikes five.

At his desk, Gustavo takes a slow sip of coffee. The cup warms his hands against the steady blasts of the air-conditioning that chill the office. He works at an even pace, glancing often at the clock on the wall.

Gustavo’s 4AM Filipino Morning Routine: Coffee, Cigarettes & Sarcastic Work Chat

Before sunrise, Gustavo fights exhaustion, cigarettes, and the weight of another workday. This story captures the grind of early mornings, corporate dread, and the fleeting humor we use to survive routine.

At 4:00 AM, the town still lay beneath its blanket of silence. Gustavo’s alarm erupted—a shrill, unforgiving shriek—yanking him from half-dreams. He groaned, limbs heavy as wet towels, and fumbled for his glasses on the nightstand. Each movement felt like wading through molasses; even blinking cost effort.

In the kitchen, he set the kettle on its burner, hands trembling as he measured three spoonfuls of coffee and three of creamer into his chipped mug. No sugar, because at this hour sweetness was a luxury. Steam hissed from the spout, and when the first drop of boiling water hit the powder, Gustavo flinched as if stung.

A quiet kitchen counter with coffee, kettle, and mug—capturing the weary solitude and morning rituals of a long workday ahead.

When High Hopes Meet Low Bandwidth: Gustavo’s Tuesday Streaming Meltdown

After a draining 9-to-5, there’s nothing sweeter than clocking out and reclaiming your freedom. The Joyful Clock-Out follows Gustavo—your classic overworked office worker—on his chaotic yet hilarious after-work ritual. From dodging supervisors in the elevator to snacking like a king, and finally facing the ultimate anime-night disaster (thanks to a dead Wi-Fi box), this short story captures the comedy, relief, and pure absurdity of escaping corporate life at day’s end.

Joyful office worker leaving the workplace at 5 PM, symbolizing freedom from corporate stress and excitement for after-work relaxation.

The Joyful Clock-Out

Gustavo, the perpetually overworked corporate drone, slams his laptop shut at 5 PM sharp. He scoops up his coffee tumbler, earbuds, and half-eaten protein bar with a grin that would alarm a psychiatrist.  

He vaults toward the elevator, heart pounding with…something thrilling that isn’t paperwork.

Elevator Ambush: Background Noise

Doors slide open, and Ayan, Gustavo's supervisor,  edges beside him, clipboard raised.  

“Pah-per… plan-ting… Sat­ur­day… bus… waiv­er…” her words blur into elevator dings.  

Gustavo’s brain hits mute; he nods so vigorously Ayan beams—convinced he’s on board.

Shoes Off, Slippers On: The Great Escape

In the carpark, Gustavo peels off dress shoes and hurls socks onto the passenger seat.  

Alone at Night: A Short Story on Solitude, Memory, and Quiet Reflection

Late at night, Gustavo sits alone in his garage, cigarette in hand, lost in quiet thoughts. This short story explores solitude, memory, and the bittersweet comfort of routine—a glimpse into loneliness that lingers even when the world is silent.

Smoke from dying embers remain after Gusravo's quiet reflection

Gustavo sinks into the old outdoor chair in his garage, the one that’s slightly crooked but still holds him like it remembers. The street outside is quiet, save for the occasional flicker of the lamppost and the distant hum of a car engine. He unwraps a Snow Bear mint, places it on his tongue, and lights a Chesterfield cigarette with practiced ease.

The first drag is long. He exhales slowly, watching the smoke drift toward the dark corner of the property.

“Been a long day,” he says, voice low. “You seem to be in a good mood tonight.”

He pauses, eyes fixed on the shadows. No reply, of course. But he waits anyway.

Fried Chicken and Existential Crumbs: One Man’s Lunch Break Meltdown at Lawson

Gustavo had conquered his morning workload like a caffeinated warrior—half a shift’s worth of spreadsheets slain before noon. But victory came with a greasy price. His go-to lunch savior, Gaspar the home-cooked meal hustler, had ghosted the office. No adobo. No sinigang. Just silence and hunger.

So Gustavo descended the corporate tower like a man condemned, muttering curses at the culinary void. The elevator doors closed slowly, trapping him with his thoughts.

“Why did Gaspar have to be absent today? Here I go again. Fried chicken, fried siomai, fried bean sprouts, fried longganisa, fried luncheon meat… what’s next?!

Micromanaged and Alone: One Man’s Drive Through Office Life and Traffic

Corporate pressure, endless Manila traffic, and the weight of solitude—Micromanaged and Alone follows Gustavo’s weary drive home after another draining day at the office. This short story captures the frustrations of modern work life, the longing for freedom, and the quiet ache of loneliness in a city that never slows down.

Lonsome view from the driver seat of Gustavo's daily commute after work

Gustavo’s fingers were still stained with printer ink when he slid into the driver’s seat of his aging sedan. The dashboard blinked its usual warnings—low fuel, overdue maintenance—but he barely noticed. His mind was already elsewhere, tangled in the knots of another exhausting day at the office.

The engine hummed as he merged onto the freeway, Manila’s traffic already thick with impatience. He gripped the wheel tighter than necessary, jaw clenched, thoughts spiraling.

“What’s her problem?” he muttered, thinking of his supervisor.