No Work, No Pay, No Problem
During the second half of 2022, I got kicked out of a possibly lucrative and career-boosting writing project, my lovely girlfriend called it quits, and an acquaintance went on a mind-boggling tirade, just to avoid settling the small sum he owed me.
To add to the excitement, my right knee got busted in July.
As of this writing, I am still unfit to run, take long walks, or go on extended bike rides.
But thanks to irregular (because expensive) therapy, all equipment from the waist down remain functional during the day, or for that matter, night. (I could probably use a check-up from the neck up but that's another story.)
In short, for the past six months last year, I've felt left behind — professionally, personally, and financially.
Clearly, this drama has given me enough material for a four-part Netflix miniseries.
The only question is: Would the likes of Romnick Sarmenta or even, say, Smokey Manaloto be open to a light comedy series based loosely on my life? Would any one of them be willing to play the lead in a production called "No Work, No Pay, No Problem"?
These questions, of course, have been uttered in jest. Which also explains why only a few people in authority take me and my skills seriously.
In a previous life, humorless, uptight editors have yelled at me, written memos regarding my charming behavior, deployed me to different sections, and (arguably) moved to successfully demote me. (The legal term is constructive dismissal.)
Upon learning that I was supposedly, allegedly, putatively being forced to quit, an older and wiser editor told me: "I want you to know that I won't risk my job for you." His candor was a whiff of fresh air in that newsroom. To this day, we remain friends. We even met up afterwards once he himself quit the shitshow we were once part of.
In any case, despite these career setbacks, I've been known to enjoy an occasional break or two.
Late last year, a representative of one of the Philippines' largest conglomerates set an appointment to interview me based on — and even I can't believe it — my LinkedIn profile.
I got a nice lunch out of that — the last Sinigang na Baboy that I would ever get to relish. This is because, a week after the lunch interview, I decided to become meat-free, proving that there are no limits to my being insufferable. (Okay, during the holidays, I accidentally had a bowl of clam chowder and three large prawns on two separate occasions. Operative word: accidentally.)
Besides slowly becoming a vegetarian (to use the term loosely), the past six months also saw me explore a career in teaching.
When I was asked to apply for a part-time position at a university in Manila, I was absolutely floored. I mean, seriously: my jokes aren't even educational. They have punch lines that are moot and academic.
Doubts about my teaching skills were shared by the acquaintance I mentioned earlier. During an unforgivably manic episode, he messaged and called me "a mushroom who couldn't even explain how a bicycle works."
Too bad for him I wasn't being interviewed by the physics department. And that the panel evaluating my teaching demo chose to end my presentation before I managed to finish it.
Apparently, I passed muster.
Three months into the current semester, I still have to wrap my head around the idea that I have so far helped facilitate learning in three (!) different classes.
And as part of my resolutions this year, I intend to improve my less than stellar skills in public speaking. I might even learn to be more casual, if only to help students lighten up when they find out I don't know how to use a spreadsheet.
But don't worry. Soon enough, I promise to excel (get it?) in that regard.
