Playing Atlas

I didn’t sign up for mindreading, but that’s what I end up doing most of the time. Last week, I was pecking away at my keyboard when I received the most ambiguous instruction for a big mission.

You will be manager for this undertaking. You will work with _______ and ________. You will help each other.

Let’s see just how vague these marching orders are, shall we?

You will be manager for this undertaking. (What undertaking? Where? For how long? Will I manage the whole outfit, or simply the birthing process? What about my present job? Do I go back to it afterwards? Do I give it up temporarily? Or, do I divide my time between two places?) You will work with _______ and ________. You will help each other. (What will ___________ do? What will _________ do? In what capacity are these two people there? Do we make decisions jointly or separately? Do we need each other’s go signal before we can do anything? Oh, and there will be three managers? Surely the other two could manage well enough, and I can just go back to my post.)

Of course I clarified what this undertaking entails and exactly what I’m supposed to be doing. I got the same response. You take care of the undertaking. You and ________ and _________ will work with each other.

So, here I am, stuck in a big building, swamped with questions people assume I’ve the answers to and decisions people presume I’m in the position to make, if only because they received instructions far vaguer than mine. This mission, like most of the things I’m asked to do, is categorized Top Secret, and it’s precisely this that makes my job even harder. The people in the know are in this country and that. It’s not possible to ask their underlings because 1) it’s Top Secret and 2) only the bosses who are in this country and that know about so and so.

After slogging my guts out trying and subsequently failing to contact the people who could help me, I assumed the burden of decision-making. I’m not entirely sure I could, but no one else is doing it. So, I decided. I asked for documents. I ordered a second inventory. I scheduled meetings with the outgoing and remaining staff. I conducted interviews. I asked for remaining staff’s present schedule so I can study it and maybe change it. I appointed temporary teamleaders. I comandeered a printer and three computer units from my real office. I drafted an expense schedule I will have to request money for. I hired five people not on the must-hire list. I drafted four people from my workplace, temporarily changing their workload so they could set up Internet and network connections, organize documents, and establish a temporary system in place. I set appointments without consulting the other two people I’m supposed to be working with because the last time I tried to coordinate our schedules, I was calmly told. "It’s up to you." So, I planned their days, too, and I simply notified them. I also gave them assignments. ________ will take care of some legal paperwork. __________ will man the place so it will be feasible for me to divide my time between two companies. Oh, and most importantly, I parceled tasks in such a way I wouldn’t need to visit the third, fourth, and fifth floors because really, there is no elevator. If I ever miscarry due to all the walking, they’d have to carry me down the stairs the same way they’d lug a sack of rice.

This is very, very scary. If this works, the most I’d get is perhaps permission to go back to my real workplace. This is ample reward for me. I’ve been missing my keyboard. If it doesn’t work because there’s bound to be a glitch somewhere, I’m sure as eggs I’d get all the credit for every snag, every mishap.

On days like this, I think I’d be better off with farming as a life goal. Plants don’t talk, nag, blame, or scold. Oh, and they don’t tell you to sacrifice weekends.

Heartaches

We’re wondering if it’s a forever thing, your being there ba, because if so, we will sort of miss you.

I knew it!

No uy, we were wondering lang what you’d be wearing. You’re princessy baya.

Princessy, my ass!

It’s silly, and Line’s being silly, but this conversation made me grin, especially because we had it while I was busy discussing expanded tax and PLDT accounts one cab ride away from her.

I miss my office and the teamleaders. I miss my chair and my spot by the window. I miss bantering with Juliet. Sometimes, I even think I miss scolding Gretel. I hope tomorrow I can spend at least four hours in the office. This new project the big boss gave me is a huge strain on the mind and the heart. I don’t believe it’s the juicy part of the carrot many non-Filipinos seem so eager to take a bite of, but even if it were, I still don’t want it.

I know I have a lot to be grateful for. The more I learn of other people’s workplaces, the more thankful I am to be doing what I do and where I am. It’s not perfect and most times, it’s migraine-inducing, but it’s not __________ and I sure as hell wouldn’t trade it for this post I’m supposedly preparing for.

Sometimes, the cow just doesn’t want to graze on the greener side of the pasture.

I Hate You, Hollywood.

Remember the movie Shopgirl? After a painful revelation, Mirabelle (Claire Danes) asked, So, I can either hurt now or hurt later.

Guess which one she chose.

You don’t understand, of course, why it’s important to me to hurt now rather than later. But that’s not what I really find strange. What I find odd is that I’m hurting like this over you, and it sucks all the more because I know this pain isn’t uniquely my own. Hollywood got to this before I did. In fact, if it so chooses, it could mock me now with a voice-over: As Ray Porter watches Mirabelle walk away he feels a loss. How is it possible, he thinks, to miss a woman whom he kept at a distance so that when she was gone he would not miss her. Only then does he realize that wanting part of her and not all of her had hurt them both and how he cannot justify his actions except that… well… it was life.

I think, right now, I hate you Hollywood.

Hurt

Sometimes, the people you love casually reach out andy rip your heart out of your chest. You don’t understand why, and there might not even be an explanation around. Things like that just happen, and you let it because you love them. What good is a heart if it can’t take pain for and from the people it beats for?

Twenty and Certain

The last time I slept underneath the stars, I remember, I was in love. The moon looked like it had been spun out of stories and silver; and the sky was so clear I felt I could look up, fall into it, and slip unnoticed among the stars. I was young, and happy, and in love, and my world at that moment whirled around the big blue sky above me and the boy I was writing love letters to. Even now, all I have to do is close my eyes and I’d be there again, twenty years old and so certain in my happiness I’m sure my face glowed like the stars above me.