It happened.
Mea Culpa.
But, as they say, it takes two to argue. But I’m not arguing. My bad. I screwed up and now I’m left to tend for myself. Years ago ( decades, really) I vowed never to work in Makati. But I did. And fell in love with it. But all things, all good things must end. But endings are never really sweet. In fact it left a sour taste in my mouth. I thought I was good enough for the company. I thought my extra hours without asking for extra pay meant something. I thought those extra tasks that were clearly not on my turf meant something. But like those good relationships, something always breaks them in two ( cue Joe Jackson, please). I never could understand. But I can accept.
Mea Culpa.
I should heve left a couple of years ago. I should have told them I need to earn more. Shoulda. Woulda. Coulda.
Mea Culpa.
I fell in love with Makati. I fell in love with the good people I work with. These guys are the best. They welcomed this old man with open arms and open minds. I should have left them early on.
Mea Culpa.
Leaving was hard. Being told to leave was harder still. It happened both ways. Me intending to leave and the bigwigs wanted me out. It was simple.
It was painful.
Mea Culpa.
I would love to think I left my mark. I would love to know that I contributed something.
But I would love to get a better paying job to pay the bills, support my extended family and basically do what humans do: Live, not just exist. Not just filling in timecards and watching the clock.
Mea Culpa.
Nobody’s fault but mine. ( I could feel Robert Plant singing . . . )
#whatsthepoint 