How I Began My 200-Hour Training at DND

I went to bed early the night before—so why did I wake up late? When I finally opened my eyes, I saw 12 missed calls and frantic notifications on my phone. It was already 6:33 AM, and my alarm hadn’t gone off. In a mad dash, I showered, grabbed a quick bite, and threw on my clothes to head into town.

On the jeepney ride over, I nervously patted my backpack and checked my requirements for the hundredth time. My phone kept vibrating—Jason was calling again. Earlier he’d been at the school gate waiting for me, and I was late leaving him behind. Thankfully, some guardian angel must’ve nudged Juanillo, because when I finally arrived, Jason and the others were still there.

Together with Bok, Mayor, and Jason, we made our way to Camp Aguinaldo. The morning air was crisp, the roads clear—no traffic jams in sight. Best of all: Jason had heard back that we’d all been accepted for OJT. A huge relief!

But reaching the camp gate was another story. The guard at the entrance looked like he’d swallowed gravel—gruff questions poured out: “Why are you here? Why are there four of you? What do you intend to do?” He didn’t even glance inside our bags for bombs; he was too busy scowling.

Once inside, HR put us through an on-the-spot screening. We passed—finally, I had secured one of the many requirements for graduation. Jason managed to pull in our assignment: the Data Center Division, where they send all the sick PCs to recover. We’d be treating printers that refused to join the network, cleaning virus-infested machines, and tuning up clunky desktops. On our first day, a broken unit arrived—our chance to shine. Jason cleaned out its memory, and like magic, it booted straight to the desktop. He teased, showed off a little, but he knew his stuff.

Meanwhile, Jerry Mayor landed in the Records & Evaluation Department. His corner was filled with computers so old they’d need Charles Babbage himself to troubleshoot them—and a generous layer of dust. At least there was cable TV to keep him company.

Raymund Bok joined Military Shrine Services. His office felt fancy: a tiled floor, a chandelier overhead. The boss there was friendly, and snacks were free whenever he got grumpy. But Bok was solo most of the time—just him, the keyboard, formatting drives, and, of course, hunting down viruses.

Our lunch break became the highlight. Jason introduced us to Dodgie “Dudz” Petuco, a contractual staffer at the PVAO division. He led us to the DND canteen just outside camp. The food was hot and freshly cooked—crisp and comforting, though I couldn’t exactly call it gourmet. Over bowls of soup and endless rice, Jerry, Bok, Jason, and Dudz launched a rice-eating contest: Dudz piled plate after plate, and Jason refused to back down. We all benefitted from their rivalry—our plates stayed heaping, too.

After lunch at one, the whole camp ground to a halt for siesta. Heads nodded off, even the department leads. We felt free to join in, letting the warm afternoon lull us into a quick nap.

The rest of the day flew by—troubleshooting, networking, formatting and reformatting. It wasn’t just resume fodder; it was real, hands-on training. Every machine had its own quirks, but the cycle was the same: diagnose, repair, test, repeat.

By day’s end, I realized this was more than just “job training.” It was the beginning of a long, 200-hour chapter in my life—and I couldn’t wait to see what came next.