My LGU story

I consider my story of being hired in LGU-Bayambang a miracle, not the least because I didn't have any of the usual connections to get in.

In August of 2016, I was working on projects here and there as a freelancer after I lost my full-time job at MIMS Philippines. I was almost at the end of my rope, professionally speaking, barely keeping it together.

One day, while seated at my chair at my cousin's place in Pasay City, Christopher Gozum chatted me through Facebook Messenger. He is a town-mate whom I only met online after I had blogged about his award-winning film. Chris, it turned out, was recently hired as the town's tourism officer, and he tipped me off about a vacant position at the old Municipio in our hometown. "They are looking for a writer here," he said, "preferably a computer-savvy one."

The very next day saw me traveling to Pangasinan to apply for the vacancy. I have not gone back since, not even once as of this writing.

At the old Municipal Hall, a structure in eclectic (Spanish-Filipino-California Mission) style, I met a good-looking young woman whom everyone addressed as Atty. Raj. After she quickly reviewed my resume, she right there and then asked me to proceed to the Mayor's residence for interview in Brgy. Bical Norte. Atty. Raj turned out to be -- beyond my expectations of a typical local government functionary  -- Bayambang's Municipal Administrator, and I heard she also happened to be a former Miss Bayambang, thus the requisite looks and bearing. 

At the Mayor's residence, I was ushered in by Karen, the Mayor's personal secretary, to a well-appointed room inside what turned out to be the family mansion, although from the outside, it looked more like a corporate headquarters. The Mayor had very few questions. "Are you from here?" "Where?" "How much is your professional fee?" I harrumphed, not knowing exactly what to say. He got his calculator and calculated at length and offered me something. I accepted.

As soon as the Mayor okay-ed my application, Atty. Raj asked me if I could start right away, and fearing she'd change her mind, I said a hesitant yes -- hesitant because I still had an entire house of personal stuff to cart off from Manila, starting with my work clothes.

That was how I started working as a writer for the Municipality of Bayambang, but with the designated title of "Public Information Officer."

Writing is something I can confidently say I know how to do right, even though I am aware of how much I still need to learn to improve, but nothing prepared me for what my official title entailed.

Being PIO, it turned out, was not limited to writing tasks, it meant being an office manager/administrator too, something I knew almost nothing about and not interested in learning one bit.

I enjoyed working as the Mayor's, and by extension the Administrator's, reporter and speechwriter, though I was often treated by others as their personal secretary the moment they heard that I could write. I realized that's how most people see a writer -- as their personal proofreader. (I wouldn't mind much if my workload was light, and requests for help didn't come one after another like patients waiting in line at the doctor's office. ) But the rest of the unexpected tasks were something I had to contend with big time. Simply put, I was overwhelmed. Even as I was in the middle of writing one obra maestra after another, a dozen non-writing concerns competed for my attention and I was ill equipped at it. One particular task I don't relish doing is being an omniscient god of search engines (or Bayambang town's Google, for short) at people's beck and call whenever they are looking for something, be it a certain medication or (gasp!) a missing husband.

To give further examples of day-to-day concerns outside of writing, there was budgeting (horrifyingly enough, the first task Atty. Raj assigned to me), planning and assigning the day's tasks, the minutiae of HR concerns of staff assigned to me (whether a job order employee's Daily Time Record is accurate or not), a dripping AC unit and the presence of mice, strategic (long-term) planning, bickering among the staff, the many forms to be filled out, the many documents that needed my signature, the labyrinthine procurement process, the steady stream of memos and emails, garbage disposal, etc. ...Bureaucracy, in other words, something that I had long despised as evil as an ordinary citizen because I viewed it as a major obstacle to the fast-tracking of progress. (I still can't forget that experience when I lost all my government-issued IDs to pickpockets along EDSA in decrepit Pasay Rotunda and I had to find at least two new government IDs in order to have a new government ID and just so I could transact with private banks.)

From my 'hakuna matata' existence in Pasay as a freelancer, I was suddenly thrown into a whole new world that I had to face squarely despite my zero interest. You can be sure that, cliched as it may sound, that famous Disney theme from "Aladdin" kept playing in my head -- what they called LSS or last song syndrome at the time. It already took me long years before I got to embrace my 'calling' as a writer. I had attempted to get out of the writing world several times because "there was no money in it," but I ended up going back to it again and again, and here I was being confronted again with a whole new set of realities that begged my acceptance.  

As far as I can recall, I had no dreams of becoming a local government official (no matter how minor) and everything that this entails. I certainly had no desire to manage an entire office that an LGU department head unfortunately faces each day, on and off official hours, and I certainly don't enjoy dealing with different kinds of people and their own personal issues, not when I myself was having a hard time dealing with my own.

After all, I was then into my fourth year of counseling and psychotherapy in various pro bono helping institutions in Manila (Baclaran Church, UST, etc.), when I suddenly had to return to my hometown with wounds that were not yet fully healed. But since I was already here back at my old ground (I was born in Manila, but I was here since kinder grade and up to senior high school: that's from 1976 to March of 1986), I had not much choice but handle every challenge as it came, as best I could, with the grace of God.

It was only into my 6th year as a middle-level LGU employee that I have realized that I had been contending with a silent inner conflict all along as PIO. One midnight, I suddenly woke up confronting myself about this hidden issue which finally surfaced to my awareness, thanks to this seminar given by motivational speaker and image consultant Ms. Toni Miranda which was a kind of retreat and recollection that I badly needed for the longest time: "I was supposed to be just a writer, but here I was doing a lot more beyond my expectations and perceived competencies." No wonder I was constantly anxious, panicky, and depressed.

Then and there, I decided to once and for all accept that this was my lot in life -- six years being at it is quite lengthy, after all -- and instead of saying to myself "how new and difficult everything is and I feel so inadequate at it," to convince myself how lucky (or better yet, blessed) and how wonderful I am to be right here, right now, together with all these people I had to work with, with not just their own issues but most importantly their own rarefied knowledge, skills, and experience.

In the latest documentary about Imelda Marcos, I was surprised by a major revelation: Imelda, too, despite her high-flying self, suffered from a nervous breakdown (or is that depression) in the beginning whose cause she couldn't place her finger on. She said she had to travel all the way to the United States to figure out what was bothering her, and she realized with the help of the psychotherapist that being a politician's wife made her profoundly sad. She couldn't accept all that horrid life of being in the public eye 24/7, with all those strangers coming in and out of her family's now aquarium-like lives.

What she did, she said, to overcome her sadness was to see the whole thing from a different perspective, thanks to her therapist's suggestion. She said that, instead of agonizing, "Oh, how pitiful I am," she chose to keep saying to herself, "I am so lucky to be here, I am so lucky to be here, to be a politician's wife, to be at all these events, to meet all these famous, wonderful people and welcome them into my life."

Right from the start, I knew I was certainly lucky to work for someone like Cezar Quiambao and, like what I told my superior and now-colleague, Dr. Leticia Ursua, "Gee, I don't know him from Adam, but this is a guy I am willing to work for, for free (because he's the genuine article when it comes to love of country and his people)!" But somehow, along the way, I tended to forget that, as I got overwhelmed by mundane concerns, that initial feeling of wonderment was drowned out by all the negatives, which was made worse by the ugly realities of local politics (I mean, I was suddenly yanked out of my comfort zone right into the middle of a big political squabble I had taken no part in -- in a town where everybody knew everybody too. And since I wasn't sure where each character's loyalty lay, I was like constantly walking on tiptoes, and around eggshells). I tried to be as loving a coworker as I could, but as a team leader, I am the first one to say there was just so much left to be desired in me.

I guess this is an opportune time to do something like what Imelda did to get healed: to keep on repeating to myself until I believe it that "I am so lucky to be here, I am so lucky to be here." And I hope that, through acceptance, I can turn things around as well -- I mean, the way I see my current work and life situation. I have given so much of myself in my writing job, despite my many inadequacies and handicaps in the non-writing tasks (better ask my work-mates what these are), that I had not given much time for myself, and now that I am bound to get more relaxed as I accept my circumstances, thanks to this happy reversal of perspectives, I hope to have a more enjoyable life, or at least, in corporate-speak, a work-life balance, and I hope to do a lot better in this job that I now embrace more fully as a new genuine, uhm, calling.

I don't intend to be the so-called jack of all trades or a Renaissance man who is a master of everything -- I am more of a realist because I know my weaknesses and I know I will flicker like a candle stub the sooner I spread myself thin. But I can now concede this way: Alright, God, I get it now -- I am not just a lowly, struggling writer now, but also what I used to regard with animosity before because of long-held stereotypes: I am now a government worker and officer. I am not sure if I am up to certain tasks that the likes of Paeng Saygo has thankfully rescued me from, but I will keep my fingers crossed moving forward.

Meanwhile, I almost forgot to say that, after a few years, I got back around 80% of my things in Pasay, big thanks to my brother Ricky, brother-in-law Carlo, and others who lent a hand. I heard they got so exhausted with the unbelievable amount of my worldly possessions, which included boxes and boxes of books, magazines, artworks, and, um, ephemera. I ended up donating most of the reading materials to the library because I no longer had any space left at home.