The day I marched to Brian

Aside from the onslaught of my beginning-of-month deliverables, this past week was marked by an epiphany.

Let me write about it now so I can make some more sense of it and put it all together. I am not satisfied with mere contemplation.

I have surprised myself (and the people around me), this past year, with constant bursts of assertiveness in the workplace. I use the word "surprised" because those who know me well--not even myself--would not think of describing me as headstrong or self-confident. I am sullen and quiet (or used to be) and most people would interpret that for submissiveness. Others take it for weirdness (haha).

It seems, though, that several forces of nature have conspired to transform me into something else. These forces are: my personal demons, motherhood, my family, certain recent, not-so-ordinary happenings in my so-called life, my former bosses Tin and Lester, the books that I've read, and heaven only knows what else.

Anyway, after this preamble, let me relay an incident which, for me, put an end to my self-doubts (or most of them, anyway) and one important cementing element to my quest for identity:

Last Monday, one of our American business partners, Brian S., was in the site for a surprise visit. At that same time, the plight of a certain client had put me in a quandary--I had spoken to him and I felt it my obligation to help. Now, the aid he was requesting for was turned down based on the policy parameters and its turn-around required the stamp of approval from someone in a director's position. I went to my boss who, unfortunately, was not qualified to approve it. She told me to go to Brian and seek guidance. And I was like, no way, I can't do it and I won't do it--talking to the AVP and the VP, yes, but being within a meter's radius from the BP would be such a horror! This thought, I, of course did not say out loud. Anyway, she said, this will be good training for you in terms of talking to upper management and don't worry, she said, Americans are very much into advocating the open-door policy.

So, anyway, five minutes later, I found myself marching to Brian's office, my nerves surprisingly steady and my heart beating, well, at a normal pace. My knock on his door was far from the timid one I had been used to making. I introduced myself (the nerve!), sat on the chair across from his and smoothly recounted (my voice didn't break! hurrah!) the client's situation. Now, Brian was very nice and explained his decision (which, unfortunately, was a no) in a detailed manner, such that a supervisor of my level would very well understand. I, again surprising myself, felt it my obligation not to give up that easily and laid out my cards more fully, giving him my stand on it, pointing out the details he might have overlooked. He was nodding and said that he agreed with some of my ideas, however, from the business side of things, he advised me that he had to stick to his decision. My face must have fallen a little because he smiled warmly at me and told me that I will be encountering a lot more of these situations and that now was the time to start learning to say "no."

A few hours later, I sat at my desk, still disappointed that the client's request was turned down and then it occurred to me that, hey, not once did I realize the enormity of the task I had taken upon myself to achieve. I went to my boss to iron things out and she said not to worry because I had done the right thing (and I believed so, too) when I stood up for my cause.

This story, aside from the fact that it's a long one, is another piece that I will add to the string of anecdotes documenting my road away from diffidence. I know that this will not be the last in this series. The next ones, I hope, will not be things to make such big deals out of because by then, I would have become better versed at handling them and they would have become part of my norm, quotidian stuff like the trips I make to and from the office everyday.