'One Year'
I was on my home from Ilocos Norte on friday in the middle of August last year when I got this frantic call from my bestie Rommel. In between sniffles, he broke to me the news that an order from our central office was just issued assigning me to a new post in Ilocos Sur, the nearby province. After verifying with my sources, it was indeed official. I was in shock, I did not see that coming. But hindsight I suppose I felt it, as one of the last official speeches I made in Ilocos Norte was about accepting and embracing change. We were in the middle of 'rationalizing' the bureacracy, read: forcing people to retire to streamline the organization. It was a troubling and uncertain phase, and I wanted to be there to see through this transition for my colleagues in Ilocos Norte, with whom I have worked with for almost six years.
I called on the gods. I pleaded with them, as a last-ditch effort, not to reassign me. Of course, I knew then that whatever I did, whoever I called, I had to comply. It was an emotional farewell for me to Ilocos Norte. Not only did I forge relationships with my colleagues, but I feel, even now as I write this, that I had the best years of my career in the province. I had milestones while serving in Ilocos Norte, regardless of what transpired when I left. Betrayal, the worst kind, came into play. It was providential, I guess, because had these things not happen, I would not have known the true colors of the people I gave all of me to for almost six years. And most importantly, I now am able to acknowledge the weaknesses I have, my mistakes, my shortfalls, as a person and as a leader.
I am a work in progress in Ilocos Sur, my new area of assignment. It has been a year now, yet it still feels like it was just months ago. I feel that the honeymoon is not over. I do not know all the names of my colleagues; I do not know of their specific tasks in the organization (just a general picture, especially those assigned in the field); I have not been with them in their unguarded moments; I have not heard hearty laughter; I have not received genuine smiles. Of course I have gotten those from them who are my friends, some old and some new, who happen to have known me since Day 1, or those who have embraced me, out of the goodness of their hearts. A handful.
I feel like I am in a limbo. I feel inadequate. I see this strange aura of dislike, indifference and judgement from most of my colleagues. They are always whispering, scared to smile and laugh, filter all they tell me. Like they are terrified of being identified as open, candid, smart, and happy, almost like all of them are afraid of something, or someone. It is disturbing, and sad really. Because I know most of them are open, candid, smart and happy. I sometimes fault myself about these. I tell myself, maybe I am not likeable? Or I seem a 'bitch'? Perhaps I do not give them the chance to be themselves, or get to know me? Then, I ask myself, too, if it were the other way around?
Only a handful remembered I have been in the province for a year now. I am okay with that. This one little thing just goes to show the low register on 'warmth meter' for me. This handful surprised me with early dinner and coffee and cake. I was deeply moved by their gesture. But I can imagine the others whose tongues are wagging now, and what they are saying about these handful of people. I mean, really. I may miss the mark in Ilocos Sur. I may fail here. But God knows I am doing my best. With His grace, and with the kisses, hugs, smiles, caring thoughts and love of a handful, I will try harder. You know the feeling when you are down and out, all odds are against you, and a hand is held out for you to cling to in desperation? I know. And even from one hand, or a few, I will take it. Even from just one hand, or a few.
I called on the gods. I pleaded with them, as a last-ditch effort, not to reassign me. Of course, I knew then that whatever I did, whoever I called, I had to comply. It was an emotional farewell for me to Ilocos Norte. Not only did I forge relationships with my colleagues, but I feel, even now as I write this, that I had the best years of my career in the province. I had milestones while serving in Ilocos Norte, regardless of what transpired when I left. Betrayal, the worst kind, came into play. It was providential, I guess, because had these things not happen, I would not have known the true colors of the people I gave all of me to for almost six years. And most importantly, I now am able to acknowledge the weaknesses I have, my mistakes, my shortfalls, as a person and as a leader.
I am a work in progress in Ilocos Sur, my new area of assignment. It has been a year now, yet it still feels like it was just months ago. I feel that the honeymoon is not over. I do not know all the names of my colleagues; I do not know of their specific tasks in the organization (just a general picture, especially those assigned in the field); I have not been with them in their unguarded moments; I have not heard hearty laughter; I have not received genuine smiles. Of course I have gotten those from them who are my friends, some old and some new, who happen to have known me since Day 1, or those who have embraced me, out of the goodness of their hearts. A handful.
I feel like I am in a limbo. I feel inadequate. I see this strange aura of dislike, indifference and judgement from most of my colleagues. They are always whispering, scared to smile and laugh, filter all they tell me. Like they are terrified of being identified as open, candid, smart, and happy, almost like all of them are afraid of something, or someone. It is disturbing, and sad really. Because I know most of them are open, candid, smart and happy. I sometimes fault myself about these. I tell myself, maybe I am not likeable? Or I seem a 'bitch'? Perhaps I do not give them the chance to be themselves, or get to know me? Then, I ask myself, too, if it were the other way around?
Only a handful remembered I have been in the province for a year now. I am okay with that. This one little thing just goes to show the low register on 'warmth meter' for me. This handful surprised me with early dinner and coffee and cake. I was deeply moved by their gesture. But I can imagine the others whose tongues are wagging now, and what they are saying about these handful of people. I mean, really. I may miss the mark in Ilocos Sur. I may fail here. But God knows I am doing my best. With His grace, and with the kisses, hugs, smiles, caring thoughts and love of a handful, I will try harder. You know the feeling when you are down and out, all odds are against you, and a hand is held out for you to cling to in desperation? I know. And even from one hand, or a few, I will take it. Even from just one hand, or a few.
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