Lucky Day

Lady luck must be grinning at me yesterday. I got job offers from the two pending applications that I had since December. The first one was for IDC, an international research publications firm for the research editor position. The job appealed to me because (1) the company is multinational, (2) the job is in line with what I do, and (3) the work environment is less stressful. The other job application is more daring. They opened an internal hiring in my company for the position of Marketing Communications Manager. I hazard to apply because (1) I saw it as a chance for me to grow professionally and (2) it was perfect training ground for my eventual plan to go into events management in the far future. It was not a hard choice to make. And it was providential that both job offers came at the same time so I didn’t have to stall my decision to wait for what happens in the other.

The interview with the president went really well. I’ve been forewarned that interviews like this can turn out to be chika moments. And it did. I’ve been around her several times but I just realized in the interview how cool and wise she is. The session started out serious. Of course she asked me why I wanted the position. I figured she wanted to make sure this is not going to be just adventurism for me. She shifted to a lighter topic when we got the serious stuff out of the way. She asked about my family, my plans in the future, and, hold your breathe, my homosexuality. Even before the interview, I figured she’d have a bone to pick with me regarding my sexual orientation. I think it was just fair that she takes an issue out of it, considering the industry that my company belongs to. But she assured me that my homosexuality will not be an issue especially since I assured her back that I know how to behave and my scruples are all in place. What cracked me up was the fact that she went as far as asking me about the kind of men that I’ve dated. All along, she had the stereotypical gay guy in mind, those who pay their way to love. I had to put her in the right place though and explain to her that gay guys of my generation are self-respecting individuals who would sometimes pay for sex (Not that I have. I haven’t. But like straight men, there are gay guys who do it too.). I guess I pacified her fears because she gave me the job.

Ask me how I feel.

I am happy. I couldn’t get over the picture of myself, how I reacted, when the president told me I got the job. At her back, I had to shake my head several times like a mad man just to make sure it wasn’t just a dream. My world suddenly changed. But I am not fazed. I am used to snap-of-the-finger changes. I am not complete. But I am happy.