OH MY GOD, CRINGE

Once upon a time, there was a corporate soldier—gray cubicle, blue tie, gray soul. Thirteen-hour workdays filled with reports nobody read, meetings that could’ve been emails, and coffee that tasted like despair.

Socially, he was wallpaper. At family reunions, he hovered near the buffet like a shy security guard. He didn’t even hug his parents, offering only a polite half-smile whenever titas lunged for a beso.

Then came the revelation. He saw his old schoolmates—the ones who used to copy homework off him—suddenly buying cars and condos. They weren’t doctors or lawyers. They weren’t climbing the corporate ladder. They were in… real estate. And the kicker? They were earning like mid-sized company CEOs.

So one day, he dropped the corporate badge and dove headfirst into brokering.

The transformation was immediate—and slightly terrifying. At the very next family reunion, the change was obvious. Gone was the shy, stiff cousin. In his place: Mr. Broker. Shiny shoes, too much cologne, and—heaven forbid—nagbebeso na. With titas. With titos. Even with distant family friends who barely remembered his name.

“Oh my god,” whispered a cousin. “Did he just initiate beso?”

“Yes,” another replied, eyes wide. “He’s… networking.”

The family shuddered. Corporate Man was gone. Real Estate Man had arrived.

And suddenly, nobody was safe from the beso.