I have been spending the past couple of weeks contemplating on my career. I am just a normal twenty-something (Yes, late-twenty-something-come-December-so-please-do-not-rub-it-in) woman who, fresh from college, walked under the blistering heat of the sun along Ayala Avenue to look for a job. I was an average student, so not one hotshot multi-billion company has invited me for a job interview. In my Curriculum Vitae (sounds smarter this way), I could only brag about being a “fast learner”; my “attention to detail”; and, having “excellent oral and written communication skills” a few spaces below my educational attainment. To put everything in perspective, I had to mentally liquid-erase my dream of becoming a millionaire by the age of 30.
Then by some stroke of luck (OK, maybe I really am smart but that’s not my point), I finally got my anti-dream job. I get to spend 9 to 16 hours in an office building, in front of a computer, programming. Yes, you read it right. I (well, was and probably still) am a programmer. People who knew me from school would never have thought of seeing me end up in the I.T. industry. My friends from elementary would have expected me to become a teacher or a nun (I came from an exclusive Catholic school for girls – it’s natural to emulate or want to emulate your school principal). In high school, I was into various forms of media and a bit of stage acting so I could have easily been labeled as a future backstage crew member or creative writer or small-time newscaster covering highway disturbances at 4:00 in the morning (I would like to think that I am a versatile young woman, thank you). Then, the parallel universe sucked me into its wicked vortex. I took up BS Information Technology in college and the rest was history.
Fast forward to 2011, and I could easily write down “6 years” beside that sickening bullet point asking the question, “How long have you been with <insert name of company here>?”. There are days when the first thing that comes to mind after being rudely awakened by my alarm clock is “So, what illness should I fake today?”. Seriously, I should start filing the various forms of excuses I conjure up just to skip work. But, somehow I was able to get by (in most days, it must be said that “getting by” is synonymous to “almost dying"). I’m not a model employee and I am definitely not a superstar. In fact, if I were to write an autobiography, it would start with the words, “If I could do it all over again…”. I think by this time I have effectively established my point so you have the freedom to complete this sentence.
Please do not get me wrong, I am not unhappy. In fact, I feel warm and fuzzy inside. It’s like that comforting feeling you get when wiping your plate clean with semi-hot pandesal after finishing your instant pancit canton. I am grateful for the fact that even if this is not the “future I dreamed of when I was watching Batibot”, I am still here, alive and kicking. My mom constantly tells me that I surprise her. She is under the impression that I am not taking my job seriously because of my erratic work schedules and my nonchalant reaction to the global recession. I have this strong hunch though, that she thinks that way because there was a point in my life when I was complaining daily to her about how I hated myself for not taking up Communication Arts in college. Or it may be because of the fact that I barely passed 3 units of Database Programming. Yet, (pardon my bragging) I have consistently been reaping the rewards of career progression (a.k.a. promotion). What is the secret, you dare ask? The age-old answer is (and this may possibly disappoint you), I don’t know for sure. But I have a few theories which you can piece together and play psychologist/diagnostician/lawyer on:
1) I can play the part. No, I do not have bipolar disorder. I am not gifted with sheer genius, so I make up for it by being the person that my team wants me to be (Cheesy. I know, right?). That line in my CV that says “fast learner” proves to have its perks in this line of work.
2) I accept all forms of challenges. It is in my nature to look for ways to amuse myself because I get bored rather easily. I work best under pressure and where I am right now, everyone eats pressure for breakfast. I like watching my cool, calm and collected self in the middle of a raging storm (or trapped inside an elevator) while everyone else is flailing their arms wildly in the air.
3) I choose my battles. I used to think I can do everything -- that the world will end when I stop working (or thinking about work). That eventually took a toll on my health, relationships and general mental state. I have learned to qualify things that deserve my attention (at that point in time). This way, I conserve my energy and I could go on full Gabriela Silang mode as necessary.
4) I embrace reality. Being a resident of planet Earth for more than twenty years, I have learned (and I am sure you have also) that there are good days, and there are bad days. When I was in gradeschool, I used to hate it when mid-essay, I hear the dreaded "Finished or not finished, pass your paper." I studied all night, I was sure I'd ace the test then lo and behold, I couldn't write my answers down fast enough (insert mental curses here). I can hope and dream and wish for a smooth-sailing monthend release. But it won't happen. That's why we get to live another day and try harder.
5) I laugh at myself. I commit mistakes, my team commits mistakes, (some span halfway across the globe) I learn from it and laugh (appropriately) at how easily I could have avoided it. I believe that people who take their jobs seriously are the ones who can remain productive after being scolded by their boss. I swear by keeping happy thoughts and keeping a positive attitude (helps with preventing wrinkles and other signs of ageing too, so there’s nothing to lose here really).
Now, I wouldn’t mind if you trust the better judgement of your Magic 8-Ball over my words of wisdom. I’ve seen it in action and its compelling arguments bring chills to my superior vena cava. In the end, (if I may quote my Ninja friend) I may be wrong. But then again, this is just my feeble attempt at inching closer to world peace.
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