Last night, our immediate boss treated me and my colleague for dinner at Pizza Hut somewhere in the inner suburbs near our expressway project. Boss sends me an intra-office message, asking me what my colleague and I have planned after work. I responded with a fake nonplussed response, which I later on attempted to push our luck further with this generous treat (or bribery—pun intended) to include beers, that we didn’t have any.
We ordered a promotion meal, which usually comprises two medium-size pizzas of different flavors, three orders of chicken wings as an appetizer.
Our boss usually does this micro-treats of sorts now and then. Sometimes I worry: do you remember that Jerry Maguire scene?
To our relief, it was just our boss being the good leader that he is. It also made me guilty for even contemplating leaving the company those past few months just because of my other crazy endeavors. I mean, what was I thinking? It may be a Spartan-like workplace but I got used to it. Is this the effect of the pizza?
My management believes in me: they wouldn’t promote me to an assistant managerial position if they weren’t. Plus the perks: two-week leaves every four months, open hands-on risk-taking at work, inside scoop of corporate politics, candid discussion at work—they discuss and seek my opinion (which is rare if you’re TCN), we both lied and cheat for the love of the company, and these dinner treats.
No, the pizza and the treat are just the sides. It made me ponder. I work for a very stable and sustainable (knock-on-wood) company—we’re on the top of the last DJSI survey for the past few years. Elsewhere, people were being retrenched while our company did the opposite. I feel ashamed. My past behavior was unacceptable. I should be grateful that they hire erratic and moody individuals like me.
If I had focused on studying their language instead, there was a more likely chance that I could get promoted. But I can still do that.
A little touch of reality is not that bad—in fact, it’s good.
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