Quite a lot of us have had the experience. We open our banking app to send P500 to a godson for his birthday, and the screen politely informs us that this act of generosity will cost us P25. Nakagulat. Five percent of our kindness, gone—not to our godson, not to charity, but to a fee whose only visible purpose is to exist. Haay naku.

Apparently, the moment Alex Eala cracked the WTA top 20, she also signed an imaginary contract to win every match.

Filipino motorists appreciate the freedom to leave the house on a given morning without checking the last digit of the license plate. In Metro Manila, this can be worth a surprising amount of money. A day without number coding means another day of using the car, another day without arranging a ride, another day without pondering why a perfectly serviceable vehicle has to stay in the garage. So when a salesperson mentions that a particular electrified vehicle can be driven even on its coding day, a prospective buyer has incentive to sit up a little straighter.

Filipinos have a curious relationship with the medal table. We like to see our flag climbing it, preferably past countries with larger populations, bigger budgets, and considerably more athletes. We count golds, compare totals, calculate rankings, and wonder whether we could have done better. A silver medal is celebrated, of course, but not before someone observes that it could have been a gold.