Three Rules

I took  the opportunity to let go of my babies and watch them grow up. You see,  I never took the time after graduating from college to settle down, get married, and raise a family. Rather, I lived vicariously as a parental figure to my goddaughter (now 20 and attending San Jose State) and my niece (now 19 and attending UC Davis). Through a lifetime of family gatherings such as birthday parties and backyard barbecues, I loved  them as though they were my own daughters, doting on them and spoiling them, for sure, but also ready with a stern word should the occasion arise.

When I was laid off this last time, I became aware that the work environment that my babies would enter would be much different than the one I began my career. So I gave each a book as a birthday gift that would help prepare them for their careers (What Color is Your Parachute? by Richard Bolles and The Pathfinder by Nicholas Lore), as well as a letter from my experience, strength, and hope as words of encouragement to sustain them on their journeys. I wanted to pass on an excerpt of those letters to others who may need the same encouragement:

Happy Birthday,

Ever since I held you in my arms the day of your baptism, you  have had a special place in my heart. Your birthday reminds me that you are preparing for a career in a world that has radically changed since your parents and I graduated. First of all, there were no cell phones, no iPods, and did I mention there was no Internet (which meant before e-mail, Web browsing, texting, and twittering). We are part of the “Old School” where you always carried around a dime to make a call from a phone booth (when there were phone booths), listened to our boom boxes (which tended to be as big as we could carry), and there was no substitute for the Internet because the very idea wasn't even around until you were in elementary school.

I'm giving you this book because I want you to be prepared for the many changes that will occur in your work life—some you will get to choose, some that will be chosen for you. For me, I have survived five layoffs in the past 15 years lasting anywhere from three to nine months. Every time, I managed to put food on the table, clothes on my back, and a roof over my head. Consider this book as a roadmap to help you navigate the inevitable job searches (like the one you'll face after you graduate from college) along your journey. Take the words that are contained in the book with both the wisdom of the author who wrote it, tempered by your experience as you find your way to where you want to go.

Still, just as important as the journey from here to there, is the kind of person you become along the way. You see, when I got laid off for the first time, it gave me time to do more than just put food on the table, clothes on my back, and a roof over my head. It also gave me the opportunity to take you to the playground and recite my three rules for the first time: “Please and thank you. You have to listen to me. You cannot always have your way.”  Although intended as instructions for a single occasion, those rules grew with time and experience to be the lessons of life that carried you off to college and I knew you would be all right.

These lessons of life will serve as your compass because they are the values that your parents and I have raised you so that, when that day eventually comes, you can go to farther off places and we will know you will be all right. “Please and thank you” is a reminder to be respectful of others, and that "No" is a complete sentence (no reason needs to be given). “You have to listen to me” is a reminder  to consider others in your choices and be accountable to others for your actions. “You cannot always have your way” is a reminder that if it is not possible for you to accept people, places, situations, or outcomes for what they are, it is  probably about "you"  rather than about “them”.

So, with a roadmap and compass in hand, my fondest wish for your birthday is that you find your path to a fulfilling life, passionate and exciting, with the knowledge that God has given you a purpose, meaning, and plan with the full support of your Mom, Dad, and I.

Love

Your Uncle Joe

Happy Belated Birthday Janelle,

Ever since I held you in my arms the day of your baptism and I became your ninong, you will always hold a special place in my heart. (to be a ninong is a very special honor in the Filipino culture, and shows that your parents had a special role for me to play in your life). Your 20h birthday reminds me that you are preparing for a career in a world that has radically changed since your parents and I graduated. First of all, there were no cell phones, no iPods, and did I mention there was no Internet (which meant before e-mail, Web browsing, texting, and twittering). We are part of the “Old School” where you always carried around a dime to make a call from a phone booth (when there were phone booths), listened to our boom boxes (which tended to be as big as we could carry), and there was no substitute for the Internet because the very idea wasn't even around until you were in elementary school.

Before you were five, your ninong Joe went through his first layoff at, of all places, Apple Computer. It took me almost eight months to find a permanant job, and I learned that work isn't everything (more about that later). I read the book "What Color is Your Parachute"  as a way to accept the fact that I had (and will have) many jobs that eventually I would call my career, so that I may as well get used to the idea that I may change jobs many times in my life. I'm giving you this book because I want you to be prepared for the many changes that will occur in your work life—some you will get to choose, some that will be chosen for you. For me, I have survived five layoffs in the past 15 years lasting anywhere from three to nine months. Every time, I managed to put food on the table, clothes on my back, and a roof over my head. Consider this book as a roadmap to help you navigate the inevitable job searches (like the one you'll face after you graduate from college) as a step along a very long journey. Take the words that are contained in the book with both the wisdom of the author who wrote it, tempered by your experience as you find your way to where you want to go.

Still, just as important as the journey from here to there, is the kind of person you become along the way. You may remember the story that I shared at my father's eulogy that I wanted to pass on the lessons that my dad passed on to me to the next generation (which includes you). You see, when I got laid off for the first time just before you turned five, it gave me time to do more than just put food on the table, clothes on my back, and a roof over my head. It also gave me the opportunity to take Lauren to the playground and recite my three rules for the first time: “Please and thank you. You have to listen to me. You cannot always have your way.”  Although intended as instructions for a single occasion, those rules grew with time and experience to be the lessons of life that carried her off to a far off place called UC Davis and I knew she would be all right.

I pass on these lessons of life to you to serve as a compass because they are the values that your parents and I have raised you so that one day, you can go to a far off place and we will know you will be all right. “Please and thank you” is a reminder to be respectful of each other, and that No is a complete sentence (no reason needs to be given). “You have to listen to me” is a reminder that we need to consider others in our choices and be accountable to others for our actions. “You cannot always have your way” is a reminder that if we cannot accept a person, place, situation, or outcome for what it is, it is usually about us rather than about “them”.

So, with a roadmap and compass in hand, my fondest wish for your 20th birthday is that you find your path to a full and meaningful life, passionate and exciting, with the knowledge that God has given you a purpose, meaning, and plan for your life with the full support of your Mom, Dad, and I.

Love

Your Ninong Joe

"

Looking in the Mirror (Part 2)

I had an opportunity to look in the mirror and see how much I have changed (and how much I have stayed the same). I saw a younger colleague, who looked much like me when I graduated from college, act much like me after I graduated from college.

Back then, I believed that anything was possible if I just set my mind on it. Less than a year after graduating from college, I convinced myself that my dream job as a technical editor for a trade magazine would make me happy forever (or at least until I retired). But after six years of tight deadlines and endless travel, I convinced myself that I just wanted a 40-hour a week job that had a reasonable commute. I got my wish and I went to work as a technical writer for a startup (for what I thought was going to be happily ever after)–only to bounce around in Silicon Valley for another 20 years trying to stay ahead of endless software release cycles and the (seemingly) never ending layoffs.

So, on Monday, I got to see all of  this play out first hand when my younger colleague berate another  for being incompetent and wasting his precious time in a very public setting (well, there really is no privacy when you all work in cubicles). Although I admit I was shocked at the poor manners of this engineer, I also could relate to his restlessness, irritability, and discontent.

You see, I began to realize how I got on the list of those to be laid off  next (or the infamous "shit list"). I may have been the most talented, most experienced, and most able employee on paper, but my attitude had often made me unemployable simply because I was unbearable.  That incident  on Monday made me reflect on how often my managers and colleagues had put up with me for 20 years, perhaps out of equal doses of empathy and pragmatism, only to be rewarded with my resentments and self-pity. As a result, whether I was a victim of circumstances that were beyond my control or my actions were the direct cause of my demise, I still was the one left on the  outside looking in...apart, alone, and most definitely afraid.

So, as my needs for emotional security and material security have grown to a house with a two car garage (with the SUV and the sedan parked in the driveway) and that almighty Roth IRA  for retirement, have I just become a human doing rather than a human being putting in long hours to pay the bills with little else to show but "stuff"?

Or is it just time to learn what it's like to be humane?

Letting Go

As part of my morning routine, I have been reciting a prayer that is often quoted as:

God grant me the serenity
To accept the things I cannot change,
Courage to change the things that I can,
and the wisdom to know the difference.

The complete version of the Serenity Prayer, attributed to Reinhold Niehbur, that I use goes something like this:

God grant me the serenity
To accept the things I cannot change,
Courage to change the things that I can,
and the wisdom to know the difference.

Living one day at a time,
Enjoying one moment at a time,
Accepting hardship as a pathway to peace,

Taking, as He did,
This sinful world as it is,
Not as I would have it,
Trusting that He will make all things right,
If I surrender to His will,
So that I may be reasonably happy in this life,
And supremely happy with Him forever in the next.

I found that the short form is like a billboard you see along the highway -- easily recognized, but not  fully understood. The longer version for me is like a roadmap that I can use to navigate the highway from Point A to Point B, with clear directions about the route I need to take and  milestones that  I can look for along the way.

You see, I am often tempted to sum up my life goals in buzz words that can fit on that billboard along the highway -- serenity, acceptance, courage, wisdom. But I don't have a clue at times on how to achieve these goals, so when life hits with Doom (the fear of losing what I have) and Gloom (the fear of not getting what I want), the words often ring empty in what I actually say and do. Then I react to rumors of layoffs, news that friends and colleagues have been laid off, or even when a boss doesn't smile at me when we pass in the hallway, by resorting to that persistent worry "How does this affect me?"

So, before I begin the insanity that I can easily make of the day by drifting into self-centeredness, I try to reflect on what the rest of the prayer is intended to remind me. Serenity can come to me whenever I take the day as it comes without the expectation that life could be "happily ever after" if  everybody (including myself) would just behave. Acceptance can come to me if I am willing to do the footwork and leave God the job of determining the outcome for the good of all (not just for me). Courage can come to me if I just trust in a kind and loving God and try to do the right thing even if it doesn't "look right" or "feel good". Wisdom can come to me whenever I show in my words and actions that God is doing for me what I cannot do for myself.

In other words, letting go of my ego allows me to be reasonably happy in this life, and  supremely happy with God forever in the next.