Contributor: Orange
“You would really wish somebody has invented a time machine for you to undo it all.”
The cellphone beeped for the second time. Sweat came out of my hands as I continued pushing the buttons. For the third time, I took a deep breath, tried to recall something from my mind and began pressing the keypads’ numbers. The last beep and the words that flashed on the screen horrified me from head to toe as I closed my eyes and wished I never touched it. I wished I never pressed those buttons and never helped a friend in the first place.
Everything happened last summer on a small bakery in our town. Because boredom almost killed me that season, I decided to apply for a summer job together with my sister and best friend in a bakeshop. Being already known by the employees and having established the friend-to-friend relationship already (since we were also able to work there the other summer), we were able to adjust quickly to the environment and serve the costumers with smiling faces.
I was even more privileged to be taught on how to push buttons on the cash box and to be entrusted with amounts regarding the sales for the day. My colleague at work even relied on me with her cellphone loading business—a sideline activity she does to help her family earn a living.
Every time she went out to follow-up the orders and supplies, I was left in the bakery to take over. I served the costumers, received the payment and returned the change, washed the dishes, mopped the floor, and of course, reloaded cellphones as what has been instructed to me. Busy weekday afternoons made me dizzy in my routine so when a vacant baker came in, he assisted me with the rest of the task. However, when the production for the day has not been sold, I managed to grab a nap for a few minutes or help the bakers mold doughs and pies. It was a tiring job but every time I received my pay for the week, all the pains and brawls remained in my head as I realized those experiences cannot be learned within the four walls of the classroom.
One brisk weekday morning, my workmate who happened to be a mother already, told me that she had to go out for awhile to check on something about the upcoming delivery of goods.
“Feel free to get my phone from the cabinet if ever a costumer needs load,” she said.
I agreed to stay with the rest of the bakers who began to serve costumers. I tarried on the counter, feeling responsible for the entry of cash as more and more consumers approached to buy breads and pastries.
Suddenly, one of the bakers in his late thirties approached me and asked for help regarding his dilemma about his sister. Guess what, he needed a cellular phone to contact her. According to him, his sister was coming to visit; since it was her first time in the place, he had to stay in touch with her. Lucklessly, he left his phone at home and he needed information from her sister impromptu. Checking on my phone balance, I discovered I got no load. I couldn’t help him.
The best option we got was to use my colleague’s phone. A text won’t damage anything, I thought as I grabbed the gadget. I turned it on since she forgot that it has been turned off before she went out.
I looked at the concerned face of the baker as we found out that the phone was guarded by a pin code. I tried not to continue exploring the code but he observed me anxiously. I hate to see someone crestfallen because of me, so I did my best to think of the most possible code and pinned it.
First attempt: I failed as the screen flashed “code error”.
I scratched my head, wiped my running sweat and attempted to enter the code she used in her retailing sim.
Second attempt: “code error”.
I remembered her name. Maybe, that’s the code. I pressed the buttons once again and crossed my fingers for what might happen next.
Third attempt: “code error”.
My face twitched in disappointment. I could not think of any other possible codes. I tried again, hoping it’s the one.
However, my heart began to race relentlessly when the words “sim blocked” blinked on the screen. My eyes widened as I recalled my classmates murmur about their blocked sim cards.
Because I have not experienced the same in my phone before, I was unsure if I have read the right words on the screen. I turned it off, optimistic that when I turn it on again, the “sim blocked” warning on the screen would disappear. Although I already realized that it could not be retrieved, I still turned it on and off. My heart pounded like drums on a street parade as I sat down and released the phone.
The baker wondered why I stopped and has even managed to ask me if the message has already been sent to his sister. I never answered and instead, glanced at him in disgust for the first time. I wanted to storm out of the bakery at that moment and never come back.
Minutes of hopelessness stare consumed me. I decided to tell the truth and be ready to accept the consequences of my irresponsibility.
Smiling, my colleague entered the bakery, and introduced her little boy. I greeted back as she shied away but my heartbeat was intolerable and my mouth itched with guilt. I swallowed all my pride and even my soul and began to talk softly. She was watching me with sparkling eyes ready to listen to what I was going to say. I, on the other hand, could not look at her straight in the eyes. Step by step, I told her what happened and what I did to retrieve it. The time I saw her raise an eyebrow, I felt like I turned short in her presence. The commotion began when I said that her sim has been blocked.
Thousands of “I’m sorry” came out of my mouth afterwards but she seemed not to care. She began to pound the table and curse. I could not move my head and look at the people observing us from the outside. Torrid sweats came out from the pores of my body. I felt like I was melting faster than butter. I wanted to be gone in a snap of a finger. But I couldn’t.
She continued to curse and walk around in circles as I stiffened in my place, muted. Tears began to edge but I didn’t want them to fall because it would be more embarrassing.
Moments after her violent reaction, we talked. I apologized again and again. She just nodded. As the conversation transpired, we agreed that I’d pay the remaining load and disregard the sim since it’s impossible to be reused unless the PUK code would be found. She had to give up all the contact numbers inside it.
After my father knew what happened, he quickly paid the debt and told me that I had to pay him of what he had spent, which meant that I had to get it from my earnings. I couldn’t imagine all my efforts and hard work vanish into thin air and would just go to the payment of the load. But I couldn’t do anything about it. It has happened and it couldn’t be undone.
Luckily, the Globe Telecommunications Network said that the load from the blocked sim can still be retrieved by transferring it to another deactivated sim card. I bought a new sim and via computer, the load was transferred and sold again. So my money was returned to me.
My workmate and I are friends now and I have already moved out from the job after summer. The day I blocked her sim was the day I tried to save a life, and at the same time, ruined another.
*Orange is Bachelor of Elementary Education (major in Preschool) student of this university who loves writing.
“You would really wish somebody has invented a time machine for you to undo it all.”
The cellphone beeped for the second time. Sweat came out of my hands as I continued pushing the buttons. For the third time, I took a deep breath, tried to recall something from my mind and began pressing the keypads’ numbers. The last beep and the words that flashed on the screen horrified me from head to toe as I closed my eyes and wished I never touched it. I wished I never pressed those buttons and never helped a friend in the first place.
Everything happened last summer on a small bakery in our town. Because boredom almost killed me that season, I decided to apply for a summer job together with my sister and best friend in a bakeshop. Being already known by the employees and having established the friend-to-friend relationship already (since we were also able to work there the other summer), we were able to adjust quickly to the environment and serve the costumers with smiling faces.
I was even more privileged to be taught on how to push buttons on the cash box and to be entrusted with amounts regarding the sales for the day. My colleague at work even relied on me with her cellphone loading business—a sideline activity she does to help her family earn a living.
Every time she went out to follow-up the orders and supplies, I was left in the bakery to take over. I served the costumers, received the payment and returned the change, washed the dishes, mopped the floor, and of course, reloaded cellphones as what has been instructed to me. Busy weekday afternoons made me dizzy in my routine so when a vacant baker came in, he assisted me with the rest of the task. However, when the production for the day has not been sold, I managed to grab a nap for a few minutes or help the bakers mold doughs and pies. It was a tiring job but every time I received my pay for the week, all the pains and brawls remained in my head as I realized those experiences cannot be learned within the four walls of the classroom.
One brisk weekday morning, my workmate who happened to be a mother already, told me that she had to go out for awhile to check on something about the upcoming delivery of goods.
“Feel free to get my phone from the cabinet if ever a costumer needs load,” she said.
I agreed to stay with the rest of the bakers who began to serve costumers. I tarried on the counter, feeling responsible for the entry of cash as more and more consumers approached to buy breads and pastries.
Suddenly, one of the bakers in his late thirties approached me and asked for help regarding his dilemma about his sister. Guess what, he needed a cellular phone to contact her. According to him, his sister was coming to visit; since it was her first time in the place, he had to stay in touch with her. Lucklessly, he left his phone at home and he needed information from her sister impromptu. Checking on my phone balance, I discovered I got no load. I couldn’t help him.
The best option we got was to use my colleague’s phone. A text won’t damage anything, I thought as I grabbed the gadget. I turned it on since she forgot that it has been turned off before she went out.
I looked at the concerned face of the baker as we found out that the phone was guarded by a pin code. I tried not to continue exploring the code but he observed me anxiously. I hate to see someone crestfallen because of me, so I did my best to think of the most possible code and pinned it.
First attempt: I failed as the screen flashed “code error”.
I scratched my head, wiped my running sweat and attempted to enter the code she used in her retailing sim.
Second attempt: “code error”.
I remembered her name. Maybe, that’s the code. I pressed the buttons once again and crossed my fingers for what might happen next.
Third attempt: “code error”.
My face twitched in disappointment. I could not think of any other possible codes. I tried again, hoping it’s the one.
However, my heart began to race relentlessly when the words “sim blocked” blinked on the screen. My eyes widened as I recalled my classmates murmur about their blocked sim cards.
Because I have not experienced the same in my phone before, I was unsure if I have read the right words on the screen. I turned it off, optimistic that when I turn it on again, the “sim blocked” warning on the screen would disappear. Although I already realized that it could not be retrieved, I still turned it on and off. My heart pounded like drums on a street parade as I sat down and released the phone.
The baker wondered why I stopped and has even managed to ask me if the message has already been sent to his sister. I never answered and instead, glanced at him in disgust for the first time. I wanted to storm out of the bakery at that moment and never come back.
Minutes of hopelessness stare consumed me. I decided to tell the truth and be ready to accept the consequences of my irresponsibility.
Smiling, my colleague entered the bakery, and introduced her little boy. I greeted back as she shied away but my heartbeat was intolerable and my mouth itched with guilt. I swallowed all my pride and even my soul and began to talk softly. She was watching me with sparkling eyes ready to listen to what I was going to say. I, on the other hand, could not look at her straight in the eyes. Step by step, I told her what happened and what I did to retrieve it. The time I saw her raise an eyebrow, I felt like I turned short in her presence. The commotion began when I said that her sim has been blocked.
Thousands of “I’m sorry” came out of my mouth afterwards but she seemed not to care. She began to pound the table and curse. I could not move my head and look at the people observing us from the outside. Torrid sweats came out from the pores of my body. I felt like I was melting faster than butter. I wanted to be gone in a snap of a finger. But I couldn’t.
She continued to curse and walk around in circles as I stiffened in my place, muted. Tears began to edge but I didn’t want them to fall because it would be more embarrassing.
Moments after her violent reaction, we talked. I apologized again and again. She just nodded. As the conversation transpired, we agreed that I’d pay the remaining load and disregard the sim since it’s impossible to be reused unless the PUK code would be found. She had to give up all the contact numbers inside it.
After my father knew what happened, he quickly paid the debt and told me that I had to pay him of what he had spent, which meant that I had to get it from my earnings. I couldn’t imagine all my efforts and hard work vanish into thin air and would just go to the payment of the load. But I couldn’t do anything about it. It has happened and it couldn’t be undone.
Luckily, the Globe Telecommunications Network said that the load from the blocked sim can still be retrieved by transferring it to another deactivated sim card. I bought a new sim and via computer, the load was transferred and sold again. So my money was returned to me.
My workmate and I are friends now and I have already moved out from the job after summer. The day I blocked her sim was the day I tried to save a life, and at the same time, ruined another.
*Orange is Bachelor of Elementary Education (major in Preschool) student of this university who loves writing.
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