Gotta have the "F"

I thought I would never see the end of my continuing saga. My relationship with my future self is not really going well. I have this notion that how you envision yourself days, weeks, months or years from now affects how you live out your present life. I know this thought may seem esoteric and totally the opposite of what actually happens, i.e., the present affects the future and not the other way around. But perhaps it is my way of harnessing the benefits of positive thinking, mind mapping, and all the other psychological babble that I often ignore everytime I pass by the “Self-Help” section at the bookstore.

In reality, it is easier for me to close my eyes and see myself prancing in Prada stilettos living out a highly successful life. Such visions that appear overhead like a Peanuts comics dialogue cloud are easier to conjure up at times when I feel like “bad luck” – also known as the universe conspiring for my downfall – has struck me once more. Because sometimes, as they say, “When it rains, it pours.” Is this saying applicable to bad times as well? Heck, yeah!

And it felt more than just rain. It was a downpour of hailstones when the company at Jurong East that I have applied at informed me that my work pass was disapproved by the Ministry of Manpower (MOM) – the governing body for work passes. The company thought that perhaps it was due to the local-foreigner ratio, that they have to hire more locals first before they can be allowed to hire a foreigner. This is the company where the boss has expressed eagerness to hire me so much so that even some confidential company plans have already been shared with me. This just proves that no matter how a company likes you but if your work pass application was rejected, you still cannot start working for that company. Yes + No = NO. Such is the mystery that is MOM. They will not explain their reasons for disapproving applications. It’s just either a straightforward Yes or a straightforward No.  

Just a few days after that, I followed up with my other application at the school. They informed me that they are momentarily putting all applications on hold. The opening of the school in Vietnam where I was supposed to be deployed to was postponed indefinitely due to recession-induced budget cuts. When it rains, it pours.

Add to that the numerous other job applications that were either uncomplicatedly denied, politely rejected, or seem to be plainly ignored. Those companies which replied simply expressed their preference for locals or those with permanent resident status. As for the rest of my applications, they were akin to Add as a Friend invites on Facebook which are neither confirmed nor denied. Just ignored. When it rains, it pours.

Am I really seeing the end of this saga of job hunting?

It was two hours before midnight when I decided to retrieve all my clothes that I had left outside to dry. I am still hesitant to try the bamboo poles after the occasional futile attempts. In our new “Big Brother house” on the fifth floor, the corridor in front of the main door serves its dual purpose as a Smoking Area (for smoking housemates) and as a “Drying Area” for machine-washed clothes. Really, clothes that dried under the sun smell a lot fresher compared to those that dried indoors or just via the machine dryer. Sometimes Nanay, the grandmother, would hang huge, colorful blankets over the corridor ledge and leave them all to bake under the scorching heat of the sun. Viewed from the ground, these blankets could be mistaken as parachutes or kites that got accidentally caught in, obediently caressing the breeze. It is not as hideous as it sounds. Our side of the building faces the backyard of sorts of well-maintained bermuda grass and other common foliage. Several tall trees line the edge of the wired fence that separates the HDBs from the expressway at the opposite. 

I passed by Tatay, the grandfather of the house, on my way back to my room. He was sitting by the dining table intently reading his Bible with such concentration that allows for his lips to alternately purse and mumble almost involuntarily. It reminds me of the way I used to read my other bible which is also spelled as V-O-G-U-E. (Sometimes it is spelled as E-l-l-e, or H-a-r-p-e-r-‘s-B-a-z-a-a-r, depending on which has the fiercest cover for the month.)  I tried my best not to disturb him by not making any unnecessary noise despite the shaking sound that the spider’s web-like clip hangers make as I carry them. But I guess even the faintest of sounds could instantly interrupt his reading, the way that a hypnotized person would immediately be awakened with just a snap. He cleared his throat, looked at me in a librarian-esque signature gaze with a lowered head, spectacles resting low on his nose bridge and eyes rolled up to the ceiling of his eyelids, and whispered:

“What job position are you applying for again?”

I was tempted to let him know that I am open to any kind of decent job with a decent income that is hopefully fashion-related. But then again, that idea of a reply is something that is better said in front of a potential employer pathetic. Besides, just the way I constructed that thought in my mind seemed too wordy for a simple question that is answerable by a word or two.     

“Fashion Designer,” I murmured.

He went back to reading like nothing has transpired in the past few seconds. I went back to my room and started to fold my clothes as usual. As my roommate Marie began to chat online with her boyfriend, I began to wonder about my brief encounter with Tatay. Perhaps he was just curious. Or maybe he just forgot that I already told him exactly the same thing twice before. But I hoped that he included me in his prayers. I have been remiss in my obligations as a Catholic and nothing can prove to be more helpful than a nudge from an elderly pious man like him.

The next day I was casually browsing the Internet when I chanced upon a job ad that has been there for 4 months already. It was not in the usual online job portal format and yet it described everything that I wanted in a job. And so I decided to go for it and immediately called the number. While there’s a high probability that the vacancy has already been filled up, I chose to take my chances. And I’m glad I did. I was quickly scheduled for an interview. I have always believed in gut-feel when somehow you feel that something good is bound to happen.

You get that unique this-might-be-it feeling where excitement is fueled by Faith…

You get that moment when you know for sure that this time it is really going to happen (despite the fact that you already thought of/felt/said the same thing a hundred times before, only this time it really feels different)…

You just know this is meant to be. Fate as they call it. And I believed.

Oh, but please don’t make me sing the high notes of that old Mariah-Whitney song.