A tiny blip in the continuum

The company was a place I knew. Back then, being one of the few nineteen-somethings in the 300-strong organization, I – along with my peers – had stood out; people recognized and knew who I was, this young energetic student intern who came to work always plugged into his Discman, and whose dressing was smart street-style.

It was a mundane job. There was only so much one can be enthusiastic about revising and amending building plans. By hand, with technical pens and razor blades. I did not like it one bit, yet I did what I was told to do and more.

The internship came and gone in two months. I returned to school and subsequently left with less than ideal grades. I had to repeat a semester, and since I had only one or two school day out of a week, I returned to the company as a part-timer to fill my time. Along the way, I made my mark as a young boy with a lot of initiative and drive who learnt fast.

Some of the project leaders who led the various teams in the company must have been suitably impressed with the way I worked, for they began pulling me away from my base team just so I could work on theirs. I worked late nights and weekends, but strangely, I enjoyed it.

The sharing got so messy to a point in which my designate project leader had to complain about my unavailability to the company directors. One fine day, as I was minding my own business, I was called to one of the director's room. I stepped in and saw two project leaders seated around, looking like they have just been chewed by the boss. It would seem that the problem had been sorted, for the director announced his directive, that, if I was needed on any team, its project leader would have to seek his authorization to 'borrow' me.

That incident got the company directors' attention. In 1998, on a particular day in the Christmas week in which each and every team was called to the director's rooms, and year-end bonuses were handled out, I found myself alone at my desk. Someone came running up to me and said I was wanted by the boss.

"I heard you're leaving us," the director said as I stepped into his office, where the rest of the team was gathered.

"Yes," I replied. "For national service."

He smiled and nodded. "I've been told you've been working very hard. And for that, we wish to show you a gesture of appreciation."

My project leader winked at me as the boss picked up the sole envelope on his desk. It contained the requisite one-month bonus, even though I had only worked for nine months.

I was enlisted into the army with a spanking new cellular phone.

* * * * * *

Fast forward to 2000; Human Resource called up one day and, knowing I was soon to be discharged from the army, asked if I would like to return. I did, but I was adament to not be hired as a draughtsperson. I went down for an interview and showed one of the directors my feeble portfolio.

"You expressed an interest in joining the graphics team," the director said. "But, honestly, based on what I'd just seen, I would say you are not good enough."

Ouch.

He continued. "But I've worked with you, and I know what you're capable of." I squirmed in my seat. "And because of what you had made yourself to be, I will give you that chance."

It was a humbling experience. And it was at that moment I realized that all my life I have been surrounded by people who gave me opportunities freely.

I walked in through the doors to the company three days after my national service a graphics designer. It was the first step away from my schooling, away from what I loathed.