It came unexpected – seeing the faces that I have shared an office/room with around two years ago.
I walked from our apartment building to the police station to gather updates for a class the next day. With a long umbrella in my right hand, I quietly trod the damp streets of Manila in sure swift steps.
A few meters away from my destination, I noticed a man talking to his companion pointing at my direction. To my surprise, the man, and his companions, are my former co-workers in the photography studio two years back.
They were headed home from a shoot in a college within the vicinity. It was in the same college where we had a shoot whem I experienced soaking my lower extremities to murky waters the rose on the streets after the downpour of Typhoon Ondoy (International Name: Ketsana) as I headed home.
It, indeed, has been two years. Between the years of going AWOL from the job until now, I wonder how much I have accomplished.
I have been jobless for months after leaving (or not showing up for the next shoot of) the company. From that time until the end of summer, I decided to finish a Bachelor’s degree and took Mass Communications.
I wanted, then, to work part-time while studying but I feared the process of applying for a job. I still do. I don’t like the idea of trying to please somebody when you are too much of a cynic and a pessimist to actually think of your strengths. I always think that I could never be good enough to be hired even in the fields that I like – writing and art.
I suck at interviews. My brain tends to wander off to a different land or dimension. My ears has the tendency to block too much words that I care less about. My mouth usually does not coordinate well with my brain. And I think I either appear too smug, too nonchalant or too dense – traits that any employer would disapprove of.
I wondered, then, how did I end up with that job. I was brazen enough to pass my resume via the graphic arts institution I’ve enrolled in. It was a surprise that I was even accepted considering the limited knowledge on photo editing that is highly required in this field.
I assumed, when I got accepted, that I will be working as a graphic artist. However, my fears turned real. They’ve sense the lack of skills required for the task. I was moved to the shoot area wherein I was tasked to coordinate a student in choosing which photo will they use for their pictorial package.
I was bummed. My idealistic self demanded that I should perform the duties of the job I actually applied for.
When I got sick for a week after one extremely hectic day, I decided not to go to the next shoots.
I planned to hand a resignation letter, which is the right thing to do. But I didn’t. The mixture of disappointment and shame kept me from doing the act that exhibits professionalism.
Seeing them brought back the memories of earning my own money. The idea that I no longer depend too much on what my parents can give me is something I long for. At my age, I should be working. I should be able to rely on myself for my needs and wants.
Will I be able to get back the time I’ve wasted? I know it’s not possible. However, my attitude towards a job will change greatly. Besides, finishing a degree may lessen the fears.
I really hope so.