In the BPO world, chismis spreads faster than fiber internet.
By the time Christina Moran returned to her station after her meeting with Raffy, the entire floor had already constructed a full-blown telenovela around her life.
"She's dating Edward Callen," whispered one agent, eyes wide with scandal.
"No, no, she's dating Jacob. I saw them sharing a banana cue last week," said another.
"I heard she's dating both. It's a love triangle. Like Twilight, but with more call escalations."
Someone even created a meme: Christina's face photoshopped onto a Chickenjoy drumstick, with the caption:
"Crispy on the outside, inverted on the nose."
Christina stared at it on the group chat and sighed. She didn't know whether to laugh or file a cyberbullying report.
She walked to the pantry, hoping for peace. Instead, she found Jacob, eating spaghetti with the intensity of someone trying to forget his metrics.
"You okay?" he asked, mouth half-full.
"Do I look okay?" she replied, grabbing her Chickenjoy and sitting beside him.
Jacob shrugged. "You look like someone who's about to slap a manager with a gravy cup."
Christina chuckled. "Tempting."
They ate in silence, surrounded by the hum of microwave ovens and whispered gossip. The pantry was the unofficial therapy room of Horizon Online. People cried over delayed salaries, cursed broken headsets, and confessed forbidden office affairs between bites of palabok.
Suddenly, the door opened. In walked Edward Callen, holding a bottle of imported water and a book titled "Emotional Intelligence for Executives Who Don't Cry."
He looked around, spotted Christina, and walked straight toward her.
Jacob tensed. Christina tensed. The Chickenjoy tensed.
"Hi," Edward said, as if he were greeting a boardroom instead of two exhausted agents.
"Hi," Christina replied, chewing slowly.
"I was wondering," Edward began, "if you'd like to join me for lunch tomorrow. At the executive lounge. They serve quinoa."
Jacob nearly choked on his spaghetti.
Christina blinked. "Quinoa?"
Edward nodded. "It's like rice, but pretentious."
Jacob leaned in. "She's allergic to pretentious."
Edward ignored him. "Think about it," he said, placing a business card on the table like he was offering a job instead of a salad.
Then he walked out, leaving behind a trail of confusion and imported hydration.
Christina stared at the card. It read:
Edward Callen, VP of Strategic Ambiguity
Jacob snorted. "VP of what now?"
Christina sighed. "I don't know. But I think I just got invited to a date disguised as a networking opportunity."
Jacob looked serious for a moment. "You don't have to say yes. You don't owe him anything."
"I know," she said. "But I do owe myself a free lunch."
They both laughed.
Outside the pantry, the chismis continued. But inside, Christina was starting to realize something:
She could handle the gossip.
She could handle the drama.
She could even handle quinoa.
Because in a world that judged her by her nose, her salary, and her love life, Christina Moran was learning to write her own story.
And it was going to be crispy, juicy, and spicy.