There was once a woman who was almost perfect.
Her name was Christina Moran, and she had everything a BPO company could ever want: a soothing voice that could calm even the angriest American customer, a typing speed that could rival a caffeinated octopus, and the ability to pretend she cared about modem lights blinking.
But there were two problems.
One: she came from a poor family.
Two: she had an inverted nose.
Not metaphorically inverted. Literally. Her nostrils pointed upward like they were trying to smell heaven. Office gossip claimed she was born during a lunar eclipse. Others said her nose was a failed cosmetic experiment. One guy from IT swore it was a divine punishment for being too sexy.
Christina didn't care. She had bills to pay, a sick mother to support, and a salary that arrived later than her birthday greetings from HR.
"Thank you for calling Horizon Online high-speed technical support," she chirped, her voice as perky as a Jollibee mascot on Red Bull. "My name is Tina, how may I help you?"
She coughed. Not because she was sick, but because she needed people to think she was. It was her strategy: look sick, sound tired, and avoid being noticed by the creepy men in management.
DING DONG.
The PA system crackled like a dying karaoke machine.
"ATTENTION PLEASE. MISS MORAN, MISS MORAN, YOU ARE TO REPORT TO THE CEO'S OFFICE AFTER YOUR CALL."
The feedback screeched like a banshee. Christina winced.
'What does that maniac want now?' she thought, her stomach doing cartwheels.
She ended her call with a fake smile and walked toward the CEO's office, passing through the jungle of cubicles, each one buzzing with chismis, delayed pay complaints, and the occasional forbidden office affair.
Inside the CEO's office, the air was thick with cigar smoke and broken dreams.
"Christina Moran," said Raffy, the CEO, his voice like sandpaper dipped in gin. "Have a seat."
His face was flabby, like a melted candle. His office smelled 70% alcohol, 30% cigar, and 100% HR violation.
"You called for me, sir?" Christina asked, trying not to gag.
Raffy grinned, the cigar shifting to the side of his mouth like a villain in a teleserye.
"We have a new rule," he said, puffing one last time before stubbing it out. "Facemasks are now forbidden."
Christina blinked. "Excuse me?"
"No more hiding," Raffy said, eyes gleaming. "We want transparency. We want to see who's really working hard. And who's just pretending."
She knew what this was. It wasn't about productivity. It was about her nose.
Her inverted nose.
She stood up, her heart pounding. "Is that all, sir?"
Raffy nodded, still smirking. "For now."
As she walked out, she could feel the eyes of the office on her. Some curious. Some judgmental. Some just bored.
But Christina didn't flinch.
She had survived five years in the BPO jungle. She had handled irate customers, broken systems, and broken hearts.
She could handle this.
And if Raffy thought her nose was a weakness, he was about to learn the hard way:
It was her superpower.