Since I was a kid, I wanted to be successful–have a fancy title appended to my name, a good salary package, the corner office plus the feeling of importance and achievement usually associated with being “one of the top brass”.
I’ve been through a lot, career-wise. I worked as a reporter (my first love) only to be disillusioned with the reality that being a reporter (for real) is far from the realities of Lois Lane and The Daily Planet.
From my stint working as a print journalist, I joined the PR world only to be appalled by the general phoniness of the profession. Yes, it sounded glamorous but unless you are the top brass, then your dreams of jet-setting and living the good life will only happen in your dreams. Burned, I joined the 8 to 5 grind to become a Corp Comm Officer/ Supervisor — the position that pretty much defined me as a professional.
After earning my stripes and paying my dues, I am head-hunted to be a junior manager for my current company. Manager. Wow, the innocent me would have died if she would have known that she was finally able to get the position she wants.
But present me? Let’s just say the position isn’t as cracked up as I think it should be. For one, the responsibility is bigger, heavier. Compared before when I can be my usual, carefree self — there is certain maturity, gravitas that is expected of me. I had to prove myself every single day. I have to show others that I deserve the respect they’ve given me. It can get quite lonely, actually.
Everyday, I keep wishing that I’ll hit the jackpot and strike it rich. When I do, I’ll pursue my dream of being a travel writer, contributing to publications not for the money or the prestige, but to share with readers the amazing things I’ve seen.