Blasting Back to 2002

So this afternoon I got to talk with a couple of fresh grads out looking for work. They didn’t know each other but had chatted each other (and me) up while waiting in a small cramped glass room. How I got there and what I was doing there is a whole other story we’ll discuss when I get myself a beer.

So anyway, these two kids were both fresh grads and both still with the wide-eyed, slightly confused look of people nurtured inside a controlled environment then unceremoniously thrust into a wild and harsh world. After the small talk, I asked them how many companies they’ve applied for. One gave me a solid number (4), the other told me, “Nakakarami na po ako.”

After we went our separate ways, I lit a cigarette to contemplate my place in the universe. I realized a few things: a. that I am old; b. that because I old (and experienced), I am no spring chicken, I do not tolerate bullshit, and I know what I want; and c. that because I’m old, the convo set forth a trippy blast from the past. Me from 2002 flashed before my very eyes.

Rio from 2002 was an 18 year old gangly kid freshly dropped out from college. I was lucky: when I started looking for work, my nanay’s friend was looking for a data encoder. I didn’t have to look for another job after I lost that one. My boss took me with him to another company when the previous one closed, and by then I was a draftsman. Next, I was tech support, then a marketing associate, then finally a writer. (A writer because I write. No frills, no artiste aspirations.) Here comes my point: That long convoluted path to where I am took years, I now am doing what I love doing, and I think I’ve found my place (I’m just working to get myself a cozy spot around here).

I hope they find theirs too. Eventually.

*Oh Batman, I’m old!