THE CASE OF THE MISSING OTPs

A one-time password is supposed to be the first line of defense against digital criminals.

It was breached with a deluge of 188,620,000 Vietnamese Dong that was surreptitiously and fraudulently charged to my card.

PNB falsely claimed that these charges were securely authenticated by an OTP.

I did not receive any OTPs, and thus was how Pugad Baboy's PNB accounts were secured at LBP.

PNB is comparable to chasing a delayed report and addressing the red lights in an enterprise resource planning system.

So I conversed with my machine how a global advocacy survey muted sexual diversity and gender identity and expression in the preparatory meeting for the IMF annuals.

Two case studies are missing but the annual reports are ready for a fiscal oversight framework. 

In my emails, my squads and line manager agreed that OTPs are not required for the advertisement of a call for applications and contract reviews. 

A team development in Phnom Penh will investigate the missing OTPs with the findings to be included in the final cut of an annual report.

Perhaps the OTPs melted with the incessant rain of Dutch and Singaporean beers that smelled of garlic buttered sugpo, tokwa't baboy, tiim na pata, popcorn, and the familiar aroma of watered and extra-strong lagers.

Where are the OTPs?

The Phantom Biker searched the portals of RCBC and UB and walked to the church to plead for divine intervention before finally hying off to Mr. Bob of the Central Bank. 

MAYMAY AND LUIS

Maymay and Luis are the Bonnie and Clyde of weather conditions.

They represent siginificant disruptions that are at par with Manila's hostaging of a deadline, Africa muting a short-term contract offer, and dealing with a bratty Prajnaparamita.

Luis and a returning victorious warrior came with the Monday emails just as a delayed appointment with a specialist was consumated with 58 bottles of birthday beer, 58 strands of delicate tiim na pata, 58 chunks of curnchy lechong kawali, 58 thin inihaw na liempo slices, and 58 cups of scalding sinampalukang manok. 

Luis was persistent but the amendments will be generated by the system alone, by the acceptance of statements despite foreign excange losses --- the supervisor said so at the drugstore counter where invoices are issued as a neurologist's press release on phasing out coal.  

Maymay offered  a lull long enough for a Jollibee breakfast but was more intense and unforgiving, aborting a Thursday ride that somehow got an evaluation madate moving through a bike-by at a rising McDonald's.

Reimbursements nudged the Bangkok Training and Oplan Anatolya but the daily rain shut out Cambodia from the system despite an offering of reheated birthday leftovers, a pouch of Japanese nuts, and plastic bowls of cold menudo, lechong ulo strips, and sour pindunggo to placate Apo Tudo.

It rained in Macondo for 4 years, 11 months, and 2 days which is the equivalent of almost 2 weeks in Bakal 2. 

Luis is a tropical depression while stormy Maymay interrupted our weekend walks but not our weekly lottery bets.

She is Kujira after all.   

THE REIGN OF THE AIRLINES (and their air money)

Airlines rule.

The Regulator made me understand so, that my complaint againt Philippine Airlines should be lodged somewhere else, perhaps in repetitious SAP Form submissions through a worthless Footprint Report that escorted the unwelcome intrusion of a contested rating.  

The Lodge was therefore convened.

Crunchy deeep-fried sosohong permeated a delicate sinampalukang kambing as The Brethren gaveled an updated toolkit content, the fnal draft of an endline evaluation ToR, and a passdown allocation that mitigated The Teeth's struggle with a rubberry dinakdakan while recalling an airline's accountability in disputed credit card charges.

Is St. Jerome also the Roman God of Commerce? 

The Phantom Biker would not know so he searched the chat box about how OPA amendments can absorb foreign exchange losses, provisions to a contract offer that The Physician, in her absence, was uploaded into the OPP by The Ironman of Bakal 2 as they walked into the tarmac that isn't there.   

The Teacher at 80 smelled like a 53-year-old pussy that looked like a fried boneless chicken feet, the inihaw na hito served as an inflight meal of an untouchable airline, apparently.