Career crossroads

My friend Angiela is leaving for Washington D.C. at the end of the month. We hadn't seen each other in a long, long while, so she asked me to dinner at Robinsons Galleria last Friday.

While we were talking I found myself getting jealous of her position. She'll be earning ten times her old salary at her previous firm over there, and she'll find it a lot easier compared to her overworked/underpaid days here. She's even getting a car once she gets there, too.

I felt happy for her. But compared to all that, I felt a little sorry for myself. I have nowhere near the toxicity of her workload, but I do have to admit I'm not paid enough for the kind of work I'm doing. My eyes turned green with envy for the better part of a weekend.

I work in an industry I don't exactly love. I work in a company that pays its employees peanuts compared to other companies...at least until I work my ass off and get at least 4 promotions, at which point the pay becomes merely "livable." I'm not getting any younger.

But I'm not willing to leave the Philippines, either.

I'm free of any extra-contractual obligations now. At this point I'm not quite sure what I should be doing. At least thanks to PJ, I know that I'm not really in as bad a position as I had thought. I guess the best thing I could do is do well in my current assignment, and tough it out.

Farewell, WHH-687.

Farewell, WHH-687.

The whole time my folks were in Bohol for vacation, my mom had left her new FD1 Civic wedged in our garage and the old SX8 City at her office parking lot. She had to because she fetched her new ride. Now that they're back and my mom's found a potential buyer for my old car, she decided we should bring it back home.

When we got there, it was in need of a wash, with water stains smeared all over the windows and bodywork. My mom dropped me off at the lot and I slipped the key into the ignition. The instant I shifted into reverse and let go of the clutch, I realized I had forgotten how short the travel on the City's clutch was, as it bucked, hungry for more revs.

Initial idle awkwardness with the clutch aside, my final drive of the City reminded me of the good old days. Next to all of our current cars it looks and feels decidedly old-school, save for perhaps my dad's Trooper. The steering is still at the right weight, the car's still at its pointy best, and the rorty D15B7 engine still reminds me that my Jazz lacks 30 HP to be truly fun. The Jazz's infinitely better stock sound system reclaims a lot of brownie points though.

Surprisingly enough, now that I've grown accustomed to economy-mode driving, the old City's perfectly amenable to an early-shifting life below 2500 RPM. I decided I'd have none of that though and gave the City an Italian tune-up---a trip to redline in second gear along EDSA.

Wonky clutch, loose rear-view mirror, dents, rust and surplus aircon aside, my old SX8 is still a pretty damn good car.

I will miss WHH-687 terribly.

Into the terminal and out of my sight.

Into the terminal and out of my sight.

Mao surprised us all a couple days ago with an announcement over my college blockmates' e-mail group. She announced a despedida party somewhere close to her house in Quezon City, with the title of her message being, ominously enough, "Leaving on a jet plane."

Apparently she's leaving for the U.S. for work. With that she joins a small but growing list of blockmates who are leaving the country for greener pastures overseas.

So this is how it ends. Will we see each other again? I would love to, but I don't know that for sure. Maybe I'll learn more by driving to the party tomorrow night.