On the Hunt

While sitting on a plush copper sofa of a small BPO company in Eastwood, I kept a nonchalant attitude while observing the place, absorbing the work climate, and mulling over my chances at getting the sought-after catch.

It was cold, too cold, and I hae that plushie seat when a half-hour ago I was drenched in foul perspiration while I commuted in the open-air jeepney. Armed with razor-sharp and power-packed resumes, pretty photos as one-by-one or two-by-two inch lures, and a seemingly well-dressed camouflage to suit the corporate forest, I had to look, pursue, wait, then impress with my subtle persuasion skills and overt prowess.

I had been to many unsuccessful huntings; the grass is greener farther away from my suburban nest, so I had to delve deeper, look and look for the elusive source of living.

Competition is too competitive, to say the obvious. A genuine diploma, a reputable school name, these are not making an impact as one silly student (or parent) believe. Even prior experience. They look into practicalities, not potential:

Nearer? Better.
Cheaper? Better.

And still with these thriftiness in mind they hold on to insanely high expectations: I want to hire someone who can do the job of a specialist at a salary of an assistant. And to “test” loyalty, that hire will work on a contractual basis for months (actually, years).

Funny but true. Hunting nowadays have turned into scavenging.

But, a carcass is still food, if you’ll lower your expectations to below sea level.

Speaking of the sea, maybe I’ll try my luck fishing in foreign seas.

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