December 26, 2006
My brother and I received Christmas greeting cards today from the Ateneo de Manila University Office of University Development and Alumni Relations, via snail mail. I assume my Ate Vanny got hers today as well, being an AdMU alumnae herself and our neighbor down the street.
It was a very heartwarming gesture on the part of the alumni relations office to let us know that they care (and that we're still in their database). I'm sure there are no ulterior motives behind the act, save encouraging alumni to continue supporting school projects. Still, I can't help but wonder if the money spent on these cards could've been better spent elsewhere.
Let's say the cost of sending out a card (design, printing, materials, envelope, postage, manual labor, electricity, other logistical costs) amounts to around 4 pesos, which is likely a conservative amount. Let's put the total number of AdMU alumni (at all levels) in the tens of thousands; 50,000 is a good number to start.
If in fact they do send out Christmas cards to all these alumni, then the total cost of 200,000 pesos is enough to finance an Ateneo college education for two scholars each year! Even if my estimates were way off, the cost is still likely to be non-trivial. Think about it. Would the alumni of this proud Jesuit institution, with a tradition of building persons-for-others, prefer to receive a Christmas card every year, or give the gift of education to deserving youths?
I think the answer is obvious.
(I hope someone from the alumni office gets to read this. I'm sending them an email about my concerns and I'll post an update should I receive a reply.)
It was a very heartwarming gesture on the part of the alumni relations office to let us know that they care (and that we're still in their database). I'm sure there are no ulterior motives behind the act, save encouraging alumni to continue supporting school projects. Still, I can't help but wonder if the money spent on these cards could've been better spent elsewhere.
Let's say the cost of sending out a card (design, printing, materials, envelope, postage, manual labor, electricity, other logistical costs) amounts to around 4 pesos, which is likely a conservative amount. Let's put the total number of AdMU alumni (at all levels) in the tens of thousands; 50,000 is a good number to start.
If in fact they do send out Christmas cards to all these alumni, then the total cost of 200,000 pesos is enough to finance an Ateneo college education for two scholars each year! Even if my estimates were way off, the cost is still likely to be non-trivial. Think about it. Would the alumni of this proud Jesuit institution, with a tradition of building persons-for-others, prefer to receive a Christmas card every year, or give the gift of education to deserving youths?
I think the answer is obvious.
(I hope someone from the alumni office gets to read this. I'm sending them an email about my concerns and I'll post an update should I receive a reply.)
December 01, 2006
If you're one of those common Filipino folks like me who have to take a bus on a regular basis, then you might have noticed a sign like this on some of your rides:
For the longest time, I had no idea what "No ticket, no pay" actually meant. It just sounds wrong. I mean, shouldn't it be the other way around? The direction of the implication is wrong. It should be "No pay, no ticket", or in other words, "Passengers must pay in order to get a ticket". I've always assumed that this was another one of those signs with funny bastardized English that tourists love to snicker at and take pictures of. (To be fair though, the English signs in the Philippines are much better compared to the ones you find in non-English-speaking countries.) I imagine that it all started with one bus company and the others just followed suit.
In a moment of inspiration, while I was buying food for take-out at Jollibee, I finally figured it out. One of the signs by the cashier went something like "Do not pay unless you are given a receipt". Then it struck me: the bus ticket is actually a receipt.
The sign "No ticket, no pay" isn't telling the passenger that you can't get a ticket to ride unless you pay. What it actually means is that you don't have to pay if the conductor doesn't give you a ticket/receipt. The sign is standing up for your rights as a passenger and as a consumer!
(Please don't tell me that I'm the only one who doesn't know about this.)
For the longest time, I had no idea what "No ticket, no pay" actually meant. It just sounds wrong. I mean, shouldn't it be the other way around? The direction of the implication is wrong. It should be "No pay, no ticket", or in other words, "Passengers must pay in order to get a ticket". I've always assumed that this was another one of those signs with funny bastardized English that tourists love to snicker at and take pictures of. (To be fair though, the English signs in the Philippines are much better compared to the ones you find in non-English-speaking countries.) I imagine that it all started with one bus company and the others just followed suit.In a moment of inspiration, while I was buying food for take-out at Jollibee, I finally figured it out. One of the signs by the cashier went something like "Do not pay unless you are given a receipt". Then it struck me: the bus ticket is actually a receipt.
The sign "No ticket, no pay" isn't telling the passenger that you can't get a ticket to ride unless you pay. What it actually means is that you don't have to pay if the conductor doesn't give you a ticket/receipt. The sign is standing up for your rights as a passenger and as a consumer!
(Please don't tell me that I'm the only one who doesn't know about this.)
