I felt like having a weeklong birthday bash but only five days short. So it's not really a weeklong activity but last-minute wellwishers still get out of their way to greet me. As expected, there's always the hirit of libre even from former colleagues--the price I pay for social capital and emotional bank account.

I am missing it all--the Wi Fi laptops, the cafeteria meetings--the meetings which fill my Outlook calendar to the brim, telecommuting, the one telephone per person ratio, the shoulder-high cubicles. Stretching at 9AM and 2PM. Friendster and MSN. Had my salary been mucho higher there I'd go back.

My last day wasn't filled at all with melancholia. When a colleague who's been with that company for seven years asked "Anong feeling?" which reminded me of Mel Tiangco interviewing the just-released Angelo dela Cruz, I responded "Wala." There really is no feeling, probably because I was too busy packing things and burning four years' worth of data.

Not even when the gang dined out last Friday--the pressure of my wife wanting me to go home asap was much greater than anything melancholy which may brew in our last hours together. Call me manhid. There is nothing to sink in. Probably when this next company opens up all the things to me in the next few days then something will sink in.

And my birthday coincided with my second day of work in a new company. And the feeling isn't even there! What great timing. If you still don't know, the second day of work is the most critical time in one's career. Compared to the first day when you are introduced to the members of your group, there's a pressure on the second day to be more accomodating, to know the names in your team, to be with them come lunchtime, and even to extend a few minutes more past the time off. Or, since there are no work orders yet, find creative use with your boredom. Like blogging.

Coincide that with the birthday and I felt butterflies the size of B-747's in my stomach. In terms of work I'd prefer to be left alone in the quiet but office chismis is my antidote from Ibong Adarna's ipot which turns me to stone for eight working hours five times a week. Through the years my PR skills have diminished and I'd much rather be an office furniture than a talking head. Take this from a conversation yesterday with another engineer that I am forced to have lunch with:

new officemate: "so when is your party?"
me: "di na uso ang party-party sa akin eh."
new officemate: "dito sa (office name) uso pa rin yan."
me: (smiles, then back to deadma mode. in my mind: "are we that close yet?")

So I may be a male-bitch but I choose the people that I can bank my social capital on. Like the general manager, or a next-in-line. And of course, true to my being makamasa, the rank and file. They are the ones who will run my evaluations anyway and therefore my stepping stones to success so if I step on them it should be at least less hurtful but with benefits.

I am not sure though when I will break from the suplado mold, which I usually do in some cases. Some instances it came back to me, good that I am a spin doctor too. It's only with the wife that I, caught with my pants down, would rather raise my hands and surrender. Or maybe I am much of a user who becomes friendly if I dig for a favor. Am I bad or what? Bad bad person you Buddy you.

With all this sinking-in stuff, this is what I think is the feeling: I feel like I am taking a very long leave from the company which, in syota-speak, is my first love. Someone I expected to last but did not. Someone that I will never ever forget, someone I hope I can go back to and be accepted again.

This entry was posted by sky, on Wednesday, August 04, 2004. You can leave your response.