Kat the Tindera

When I was seventeen, I ran away from home. (The reasons don’t matter now—even I just find the justifications of my 17-year-old mind laughable.) I was taken in by a friend with a very understanding family, who helped me carry out my then-mantra “I’m a big, big girl in a big, big world.”

 

I had to look for a job. The first one that came my way was a tindera post in a pirated CDs and DVDs kiosk in a Class C mall. I was a stowaway living off the kindness of others, so who was I to say no? My friend’s mom introduced me to the Muslim lady who owned the stall, and I was told to come the next day at 10 am without so much as asking for a bio-data. I was hired.

 

And so I became Kat the Tindera. For three months I worked ten hours a day for a measly 150 pesos, six days a week.

 

I hated that job.

 

One, there was always that nagging feeling of “I’m waaaay better than this.” The job was a no-brainer, and I didn’t really get along with the other tinderas around me. Even the small things, like their music preferences and conversation topics irked me. I had that misplaced feeling of superiority that often made me feel bad because I looked down on others, and even more bad because I was among them.

 

Two, when I was Kat the Tindera, I often got hit on by customers who probably viewed me as a poor, easy girl who would do anything for money. Tinderas flirted with the guys who bought from them, and perhaps they expected me to do the same.

 

Three, I was bored to death. Sure, sometimes I watched movies in my stall, but most of the time I sat in silence, writing things on my notebook.

 

But I learned many things there.

 

One, was that the piracy industry was big money. I sold an average of 3000 pesos worth of CDs and DVDs in one day, I don’t even go around hawking my goods. I just sat and waited for people to pick what they wanted and hand me their payments. Other girls from other stalls called out to customers loudly, and they often earned an average of 10000 pesos. This is why many people stick to this business.

 

Two, it was dangerous too, because of the raids. In my days as Kat the Tindera I experienced two false alarms, wherein the whole floor was in chaos with vendors hiding their stuff or running with sacks and cash boxes, people yelling here and there “Raid! Raid!” and loud mutterings in Arabic that confused me so much I ended up running away abandoning my store. I was scolded for that, and it was a good thing the police raided the other mall before ours, and did not proceed. That was one of the few moments I experienced real-life action!

 

Three, these people, working in these kinds of jobs, have their own stories to tell. Sometimes, the haughty Leo in me tend to think badly about them and their behaviour, but being among them made me understand it’s the circumstances that made them this way. I myself have been a victim of circumstances (not to mention my own erratic mind and impulsive decisions) and had to “kumapit sa patalim” as the saying goes. I realized my background and theirs does not necessarily make me better. We were all people who needed to rake off our asses to survive.

 

Later on, I got myself a better place and a better job, went back to school, and straightened out the life I messed up in the first place. We may sometimes find ourselves in unfavorable situations but we can always get out–always–if we never stop trying. Once in my life I was Kat the Tindera, Kat the Jollibee girl, Kat the girl with no baon, Kat the girl with no nice clothes and decent shoes, but now, I’m happy to be Kat-sonsaengnim*, the one who kept going…and going…and going.

 

 

*sonsaengnim—teacher