Why the post-college path isn’t always smooth
I’ve probably likened life after college to a nightmare once or twice before, but not to the point of calling it sleep apnea, or dying in your sleep. It’s not so bad, but it’s no walk in the park either. Because, morbid pegs aside, life after college really means adjusting to various discomfort zones.
The hassle might come in the form of weighing a mundane corporate job in Rockwell with big pay against a more fulfilling art-based job in Cubao with much lesser pay. It might come in the form of choosing between a graduate school abroad or just here. For , discomfort might even come in the form of feeling lonely during lunchtime because everyone else in the office brought and you’re out there in Greenbelt 5 buying Cibo.
I wouldn’t realize all these, though, without that first job experience after college. Although I did make money selling mixed CDS and VHS tapes, and writing school papers for classmates in high school, my first real job came a few months after graduation.
I had wanted a hardcore writing job but got sidetracked by Don Draper so much so that I ended up looking into and bagging a job in advertising as a copywriter. I was able to write copy for clients like Meralco down to Whirlpool (for some time, I also did a few event ads for , not knowing I would end up working here).
But like in all jobs, problems had to arise somewhere. The ad agency was housed in someone’s apartment, actually, somewhere outside Makati and Ortigas. And though the place had a makeshift office space, the boss’s bedroom was just around the corner, so close that all his dogs, cute as they may be, would sh*t all over the place where I worked. It never really helped at all that its owners treated us like sh*t, too. Long story short, I resigned three weeks later mainly because one, I couldn’t stand the smell; and two, I was the kind who believed in signs. Sh*t everywhere wasn’t really that subtle anyway.
For the next two years, I went semicorporate, working as a copywriter for a company that dealt with online travel systems. I would eventually realize that South American bosses, no matter how
babe-looking they may be, can be hard to work with simply because of cultural differences. But I took it as a chance to learn and deal with different
“My first job was hard, but it taught me to be resilient...
It made me realize there are things about the world that I don’t know. It forced me to
grow up.”
kinds of personalities, from the overly emotional who brought their dirty laundry to work to the deeply perverse who alt-tabbed to porn sites come sundown. But friendships were made somehow. All in all, the camaraderie is the second-best thing you’ll ever get out of jobs, with the best being your actual professional experience.
My job, like most jobs, would allow for downtime, for instance, and I remember hanging out in the pantry with all the moms. Not my usual crowd but I would find their real mom stories disgustingly amusing — from their detailed sex lives to their meandering career (one person had gone through about eight jobs before get- ting to the same level as mine). However you put it, though, we were all united by Mini Stop fried chicken, fried , Jolly Jeep , and hot and spicy instant noodles at five in the afternoon.
Down the line, I found the need to look for another challenge a.k.a. resign and focus on actual feature writing more than copywriting. That same year, I found work on this newspaper, which gave me time to do music with my bands. It also allowed me look for a second job, this time in retail, which I had secretly wanted all these years. I now assist in the shop and do PR for Dr. Martens Philippines, under well, Borgy Manotoc. (Fine, a name-drop.)
“First jobs are great, man,” says my boss. “The process of earning money teaches you things. You just wanna earn a living and get your balls wet, you know.” Borgy’s first job was actually at Sentosa in Singapore when he was 14, where he says he was only paid to stand and let people inside the park. “I ended up going to school again in the States, saving up enough to get into business,” he says. He now owns Bunker, a menswear boutique at Ronac, and co-owns Dr. Martens Philippines in the Fort strip.
Cara Manglapus, however, had to do sales in several countries before winding up back home doing what she really wants: singing and writing. “My first job was primarily in sales, which meant that you faced rejection 95 percent of the time,” says Cara, who found her job both demanding and empowering. “It was exciting but emotionally draining. I was relocated to a new base in a different country every four months, straight from my last assignment with no pit stop at home, living out of one suitcase for the entire year. I lived in Hong Kong, The Czech Republic, Brazil, Taiwan and Sweden.”
Still, it was an opportune time for her to learn independence. “I was 21 years old when I started, balancing the pressure of not wanting to be fired from my first job on top of the responsibilities of living alone for the first time in a foreign country,” admits Cara, who also admits to managing her apartment, cleaning, cooking, doing laundry — all after a 13-hour workday. And like most people our age, it’s never easy being in a long-distance relationship.
“My first job was hard, but it taught me to be resilient and exposed me to a global business culture where things don’t run on Filipino time,” says Cara. “It made me realize there are so many things about the world that I don’t know but that I want to know about. It forced me to grow up.”
Now that she’s moved back to Manila, Cara started anew, singing jazz and soul for The Executives. She’s also a freelance writer and consultant for both journalistic articles and company profiles. “Singing is something I’ve been passionate about since birth. (I’m thankful for) the encouragement of people beyond family that I decided to make the career-shift.”
She also says that if you aren’t sure what you want to do, just be passionate in whatever endeavor. “And whatever it is, always have a Plan B and a Plan C. Most importantly, don’t sell yourself short.”
Revo Naval, meanwhile, was someone who went from an art-based job to something corporate. “I’m a marketing manager now but the title itself can’t explain enough what I do for living,” he says. With regards to freelancing, he compares it to working in a sea of opportunity. “Doing corporate gigs is like working in a pond. But why be a fish in a sea, if you can be a shark in a pond?” As to the challenges of shifting from freelance to corporate, he maintains that challenges are “all within.” “That’s the major problem with all young people today, including myself,” he says. “They all think the problem is the environment, but in reality, the true enemy is themselves. Problems are an opportunity.”
Obviously, college afterlife can be a sea of said problems. And while this might dissuade the graduate to just stay home and bury oneself with Cheetos and cable TV, it might be a good thing to realize that — preaching aside — job problems, when solved, can actually give you a higher high than said Cheetos and cable TV.