The One with the Gray Flannel Life

You're working a 9 to 5 job and you're haplessly scouring crowds for the next available cab. The influx of people can be likened to a tsunami - the wave of gray, blue and brown tops all around you drown out your white shirt. Rush hour traffic is pouring in and you just can't, for the life of you, understand why the hell the city is populated with so many people. You now wonder where the hell these people are coming from and just irritatingly think - where the heck do you guys work - only cos you don't remember having that much colleagues or people in your building. 

This is New York and this is kind of like how a Manila traffic cam looks like as you cruise along EDSA.

I work in Makati, the most densely-populated business hub/industrial zone/BPO central/nightlife and lifestyle domicile/residential city in the entire Metro Manila. If you've ever been here, there is no heck way you would want to live here. Maybe because of the proximity to work, but other than that, the traffic is infernal, the queue to any type of food service is eternal and the heat (thanks to the thousands of people taking the train with you, or ribbing you to get the next available cab) has no interval (I had to rhyme there...). 

GT Tower in Makati. Just a few blocks away from virtually any other building. 

Forget finding some common ground with the rest of the business populace. Every day is a rat race - it's a long-enduring marathon to the office, followed by a bike ride uphill and downhill to your boss' heart (and if you're fortunate enough to have multiple bosses to please, your bosses' hearts and sometimes, even liver and lungs - think alcohol and ciggies) and a long brisk walk to the end of the day, to which the endurance marathon begins again as you do the diurnal exodus to your respective city. 

Some people prefer the fastest way out from the business hub every day. I'd rather ride a cab than get ribbed, suffer microfractures on my back and shoulder bones and maybe an occasional bruise here and there. Why there was this one time that my shirt lost a button amidst the chaos in the train. 

A few months ago, I had the choice of trading my offbeat, colorful, chunky clothes for a gray flannel suit. I won't say where or how or why, but I was given the opportunity to join a leading financial institution. I did my part - filling out forms, long interviews, having time snatched away from you in a long and winding waiting room/lounge for applicants as you listen to their company anthem over and over and over and over and over (and over and over and over again until you want to slash your wrists off using the blunt side of your phone or maybe using the twine used to sew your purse). They offered a wonderful remuneration package... a car loan, a good salary, bonuses, other packages that other companies (BPOs to be exact) can't provide. The catch is working from 9 to 5 and maybe even beyond that. 

Obviously, I'm not this hot. She's wearing the gray flannel suit much better than me. 

I wasn't ready to give up my freedom. Call it my last hurrah or my child-like impulses or the need to have fun in my job, but it dawned on me that I wasn't ready nor wanting the gray flannel life. It was an associate manager position and their employees have stayed with them for years, some even counting decades of sheer dedicated and disciplined work. I was going to handle a team, and report to a director of sorts and yet my heart was sinking. I felt it in the pit of my stomach. I politely asked to think about it and decided against all rational and logical thought that I should reconsider my current position. 

Not that ready to be chained to hardcore corporate just yet...

I want a team that's dynamic, that's fervent and teeming with energy. I want work that changes as times change. I want marketing and communication and learning and training and passion - yes, passion in my work. Passion in the written word, passion in letting someone learn from you and learning something from someone. Engaging someone. Involving someone. Firing-up their senses and stabilizing culture and intent. Training is my passion and to be confined or boxed in a boundary was just too much for me. I foresaw myself having to ask for approval per protocol I was going to implement. I saw myself barking against a wall of corporate suits that won't listen to a word I say because their company has simply existed long before my parents were even born and will probably exist long after I'm gone. I guess that is what I'm against, corporate red-tape that would otherwise kill my mojo. 

Am I regretting my decision, that's why I'm writing about this experience? Not really. I realized I'm not a purist. I am not someone direly in need of a grown-up, mature job. I sincerely appreciate the hustle and bustle of a corporate jungle in the guise of a playground. 

All pictures were taken from Stock Xchng.