Open Letter To Papa

Dear Pa,

Though you are a man of few words (as in really few words), the few words that actually get stuck in family lore are quite significant  (I may be quoting some below quite liberally):

"The best way to love your children is to love their mother"

(when confronted with Lolo Lino's rejection) "Makakuha lang lagi ko ug diploma..."

(talking to Lolo Nonoy)"Pa, ikaw ang modelo, ang modelo nga dili nako pamarisan"

Indeed, there are many others, stuck perhaps inside the repositories of my siblings' minds. My personal favorite is the last one because it not only speaks about your life as a whole but also speaks of mine, inasmuch as I try to emulate you.

You had always maintained that Lolo Nonoy was the biggest reason why you are what you are. It helped of course that you had good peers to begin with but it was Lolo Nonoy, God bless his soul, who fueled your desire to become a better husband, a better father, a better man. That was because you chose to regard him as the model that should not be followed.

As for me Pa, I'm choosing to also have you as my model, the one that I should not follow. That's because if you are a good provider, then I want to be a better provider than you. If you are a good husband and father, then I want to be better than you someday. If you are a good man, then I want to be the best. If you have chosen Lolo as the model that you should not follow, then I am choosing you to be the model that I must exceed.

It is accepted belief that each generation owes much of its progress to the generations that have gone before them. "Bernard of Chartres used to say that we are like dwarfs on the shoulders of giants, so that we can see more than they, and things at a greater distance, not by virtue of any sharpness of sight on our part, or any physical distinction, but because we are carried high and raised up by their giant size."

And it is so for both of us, Pa. For the most part of my life, you were the giant. You were my first superhero and, though you were not perfect, you were always my standard of what it means to be a man. And for everything that I am now, it is because I stood on your shoulders.  Now it is my turn and I would be owing you a great disservice if I choose to act small. You became bigger than Lolo Nonoy could ever be. Now, I'll try to do the same thing by becoming bigger than you.

I love you Pa.

Your son,

Paolo

A Book Project

Earlier this year, I set out a goal that I'll be writing a manual for those who are interested in my job (sort of a primer to ease the newbie into the scheme of things).

It turns out that I've had a change of heart, recognizing the innate futility in my endeavor. I may be able to write the manual and finish it but procedures and processes do change. What I may know about the job now might not be applicable for those who will come after me.

In any case, while I mull over even proceeding further with this project, here's an excerpt (or to be more specific, the introduction) to the book (It's loaded with cliches and idioms though but a little editorial work might wipe some of that off):

"Ako? Nakuha ko man yan in two weeks."

I remember those words like they were said yesterday. Those were the words uttered by a former colleague when I innocently asked how long it took her to master the job. Whether this was a testament to her self-proclaimed genius or her twisted way of motivating me, I'll never know. But, in my case, this statement definitely did not apply. It took me almost a year before I began confidently embracing the intricacies of my position. And even now, I still learn a thing or two every day.

To digress, I was employed before by a consultancy firm in Manila for over a year. We, new hires, were confined in the conference room for an entire week, while being given lectures on corporate culture, product presentations, and other stuff. By the end of our first week, we were more than ready to take on our jobs and all it took was one week of intense, brain-wracking, knowledge bombardment. Then after, we had weekly sessions on skills development and monthly meetings with the CEO to discuss the company's direction.

In contrast, my first week with the bank consisted of reading manuals and asking questions here and there. How much I learned depended on how generous my officer and my colleague was of their time and I was left to fill in the gaps. It wasn't an ideal situation, of course, and stressful mistakes formed a crucial part of my education.

So, if no one has greeted you yet, then I'll greet you first. Welcome to the prestigious school of hard knocks. Unlike our counterparts in OTP (Officer Training Program), we have formal trainings every once in a blue moon. The rest of our training comes from each other and irate clients. It's a hard place to be in but that's the price for working in one of the bank's up-and-coming business centers. And if you're up to it, then you wouldn't want to be anywhere else.

Before we begin, let me just put in some pointers. First, this is my experience. This book is a crystallization of everything I've learned on the job. Hence, this book does not seek to replace the training manuals you will be reading. This book merely augments what the HR gurus are teaching (or not teaching) you.

Second, some points may raise an eyebrow if you were an auditor. Hence, use your common sense and sound judgment in knowing when and where to defy the rules and when to stand by them. As you grow into this job, you'll be better in spotting the difference. 

And third, after you've digested the book, please, please don't forget to challenge everything I've written down. As I've said, this is my experience. Yet processes can still be improved, tasks can be eliminated, procedures can be streamlined. In sum, I look forward to this book being a catalyst for continuous improvement and I want you to be the star of the show.

Finally, my hope is that this book will help you understand and perform the job better than I ever could. I've made the errors so you won't have to make them. As the cliche goes, let's not reinvent the wheel. 

Enjoy reading.

The Color Of White

White is a paradox. It's the color of the entire spectrum of visible light. It's the color of our visions of heaven. Yet, it's also the color of death, of decay.

Fascinating.

Para Malahi Daw

Dapat daw magsulat nakog maski isa lang ka post kada bulan nga binisaya. Para daw ni masanay nako ug para dili na baluktot akong binisaya nga pirmi nako ginahaluan ug ingles. Hmmm...

Rest In Peace, Lolo Nonoy

Lolo Nonoy passed away. He died of a heart attack. 

Am I sad? No, I guess not. As far as I'm concerned, I do not have a grandfather to begin with. Lolo Lino, my mother's dad, passed away before I was born. Lolo Nonoy and I never had a connection we could hang on to. I was his grandson by name only; I could not recall any memories of so-called "bonding time" between he and I.

For me, Lolo Nonoy was the absentee grandfather. He was the perennial man seated on the corner, staring at the world with bored eyes. It didn't help that much of what was said about him wasn't exactly in praise of his legacy. In fact, he had none to speak of, except of course of how much he has affected his children's lives, including my father's.

So what do I feel? Is this gratitude, perhaps? Gratitude that a life has ended, finally?

I owe this feeling to what one of Lola's friends said,"Maayo pa si Nonoy. Makapahulay na."

And I think that pretty much sums up what I should be feeling anyway. It's gratitude, gratitude for a long life lived. Gratitude for someone who is now resting eternally.

So Lolo Nonoy, do rest in peace. You may not have deserved it but you did earn it. Thank you.