Not so long ago, a newly transitioned manager told me about her experience so far: constant self-doubt, regular doses of intense pressure, an incessant urge to quit. My initial response was to tell her that what she said pretty much summed up my Jiu-Jitsu journey up to that point. I also couldn’t help but share my newfound passion for the martial art and how the training has helped me navigate obstacles in other endeavors. Below, I share notes about my experience and how I find that mindsets inherent in the sport translate well to both work and life.

My love affair with Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu started with the desire to do something scary and exciting. I badly needed to get in shape too, and the thought of going to the usual gym had lost its appeal. Plus, our office’s three-year romance with basketball had turned from three-hour games every Monday night into sporadic flirtations with dwindling participants. It seemed that Jiu-Jitsu was the perfect next adventure. 

 I got more than I wanted. In my first real sparring (as opposed to light or situational sparring) just into my second week of class, I thought I had executed an elaborate sweep of my opponent, only to have his knee spectacularly land on my rib cage. I ended up missing training for the next 19 days. On my first session coming back, a sparring partner forcibly tried to choke me, albeit incorrectly and painfully. My neck hurt for weeks. Each session left me enervated, and my body felt sore for several days. Jiu-Jitsu started to be an adventure like no other.

The new manager I spoke of earlier confessed that she cried every weekend but somehow managed to convince herself not to give up. I told her how I thought of quitting Jiu-Jitsu after every training without telling anyone, only to show up again in the following session. If half the battle is being present, then maybe sometimes the consistent effort gets rewarded with a win. In the case of the new manager, she got positive reviews after six months in her new role, cementing her position. On my part, I got my blue belt 13 months after I first stepped on the mat. Yet what we received weren’t the greatest rewards to come out of our efforts.

Jiu-Jitsu is problem-solving at its finest, and this is perhaps one of its greatest allures. Much like chess, opponents do a series of attacks, defenses, and counterattacks, always trying to outmaneuver or outsmart the other. Essentially, every move is intended to be a step towards a solution. (Conversely, every move poses a new problem for the opponent.) There’s no luxury of time to overthink, and the only choice is to move forward quickly, lest one gets stuck and submitted. The beauty of those split-second decisions is that they’re not merely a reaction to the opponent’s move but they’re also born out of individual strategy. At work, it pays to always look towards the solution first rather than assigning the blame or analyzing the problem a dozen different ways. There are countless times too, when taking action is better than getting stuck. No Jiu-Jitsu practitioner isn’t a problem solver and a strategist. The same can be said of anyone who deals with people at work.

One of the benefits of Jiu-Jitsu is that it forces an individual to adopt a growth mindset. There are plenty of techniques to learn, and new ones are coming up all the time. It’s simply impossible to know them all, much more to be good at them in an instant. Naturally talented and athletic individuals definitely have some advantages over regular folks, and so do the strong, agile, and flexible. But bigger and stronger doesn’t always carry the day. Proper application of technique coupled with impeccable timing —something that can be honed with consistent, deliberate practice— is paramount and beats plain bigger and stronger most of the time. My experience of getting smashed as the heavier opponent as well as occasionally submitting someone bigger and stronger has been incredibly revealing: the real enemy isn’t another person; true progress isn’t measured by comparing one’s self with another; mastery isn’t about knowing all the techniques but flawlessly executing a select few. The most memorable words uttered by the Jiu-Jitsu coaches don’t just pertain to the martial art or sport but also life in general. “I learn more from losing than winning,” said my female coach, who happens to be a three-time world champion. “It’s a marathon, not a sprint,” said my male professor, also a world champion. Such statements attest to the importance of adopting a long-range point of view and having the ability to see the big picture to be in a winning position. In business or life, isn’t it liberating not to let short-term goals or failures become distractions in favor of moving closer to the ultimate vision? What about the value of choosing to focus and being great at a small number of things rather than trying to be good at everything?

There is no denying that Jiu-Jitsu is challenging. Famous personalities of The Gentle Art have stated that it is easily one of the hardest things they’ve done in their lives. They have no hesitations, too, of following this up with the declaration that it is also one of the most fulfilling things they’ve ever done and continue to do. Rolling, the equivalent of sparring in other martial arts, as a simulation of real-life ground fighting is grueling. But it is also gratifying. The experience of going through intense pressure several times and just surviving the process is possibly one of the best therapies that exist. What more of the feeling when one ends up victorious in some rounds? And what better way than to struggle and be triumphant than being together with people who are passionate about the same thing? One of the ways I made it through white belt is thinking of training as something that prepared me not only for self-defense situations or competitions but also for the realities of business and life. After all, isn’t the most fulfilling kind of work or life not one that’s easy but one that’s full of challenges and surprises?

By the end of our conversation, the new manager and I came to a shared conclusion: things may or may not get easier over time, but we could certainly get used to them and probably even learn how to thrive despite them. M. Scott Peck in The Road Less Traveled said it best: “Life is difficult. This is a great truth, one of the greatest truths. It is a great truth because once we truly see this truth, we transcend it. Once we truly know that life is difficult —once we truly understand and accept it— then life is no longer difficult. Because once it is accepted, the fact that life is difficult no longer matters.”

Before the pandemic, a trip to the basketball court every now and then was part of our office-sponsored fitness activities. It used to be that we were pretty consistent about going every Monday night, something we had managed to keep up for three years straight. Most of the participants, myself included, had near-perfect attendance. A lot of us did this to stay in shape, de-stress and have a bit of fun while others were simply passionate about the game. Regardless of their reasons for playing, people oftentimes got competitive — everyone wanted to win at one point or another.

A boss once shared with me a story about his experience with an immigrant whom he had employed in one of his donut shops in New York. The boss learns that this particular immigrant used to be the captain of their cricket team back at home and decides to give him more responsibilities. After all, weren’t leadership skills supposed to be transportable? The boss ends up promoting the immigrant to a supervisory position, only to promote him again as branch manager several months later. The immigrant eventually becomes an area manager responsible for handling several stores.

In a recent performance review of a newly transitioned manager in the office, I’ve seen once again —it certainly wasn’t the first time— how people’s behavior and mindset on the basketball court can be similar to their performance and mentality at work. If I had to come up with more reasons to join office-sponsored sports activities apart from the obvious camaraderie and health benefits, getting a peek into people’s mind wasn’t a bad one. I share my notes below about some of my observations, mainly how I’ve unconsciously categorized players under three main buckets.

First, there are the stars. These are players that need to be in separate teams, lest the game becomes a lopsided affair and all the hopes of having some fun gets eliminated. They can be counted upon to do what is necessary to give their team the best chances of winning. They get the lion’s share of playing time and points because they put in the equivalent amount of work and consistently show good results. It almost feels like cheating when you pass them the ball because they seem to be able to score at will. At work, they bring the same passion and energy in what they do. They’re usually not together in a project unless it’s uber-complex because spreading them across several ones tremendously increases the chances of success on the individual projects they’re part of.

There are also the facilitators. While they could also score points if they wanted, especially when their team is behind or whenever the situation is critical, being the highest scorer or the individual superstar isn’t their priority. On the contrary, they look to pass the ball to open teammates first and even give weaker players the chance to score whenever possible. They don’t mind doing the necessary but less glamorous work either, like rebounding and defending — anything that could give their team the edge. As facilitators, these people are first and foremost leaders and their very presence helps improve the output of their teammates. Back in the office, they do pretty well in their managerial roles, whether the responsibility was thrust upon them or whether they asked for it themselves.

Then there are the role-players. These are the pesky defenders, the tenacious rebounders, or even that guy who favors the side of the court just behind the three-point line and has a relatively good chance of sinking the shot if he’s open. These people have no delusions of becoming the MVP but aim instead to contribute steadily and reliably, even if it takes time to master their chosen role. Part of their internal dialog goes something like, “I just don’t want to be the joker” — the very same words uttered by the boss I spoke about earlier when he decided to start playing basketball again after he turned 50. In the workplace, these people can be relied upon to perform their responsibilities well. They’re the subject matter experts who aren’t any less valuable than their colleagues. Many of them end up doing well in supervisory and managerial positions too.

Whatever roles or labels get assigned to them, and whether it be on the court or in the office, people want to win. They also welcome having fun and learning new things along the way. In basketball, the team with the higher score at the sound of the final buzzer wins the game. At work, the team who wins has leaders that can crisply define what constitutes a win and constantly rally their members towards it.

It was a fine afternoon on the fourth floor in one of the towers of Singapore’s largest banks.

Like any other work day, it was the constant sound of keyboards clicking away that mostly permeated the office. The floor’s occupant, a majority of which were external partners working on projects for the financial institution, could be occasionally heard talking in near whispers. Every now and then the phones would ring, their sound intentionally rendered as soft hums, followed by more whispering when they get picked up. Guests coming out of the elevators, speaking in loud voices as they get carried away by their ongoing conversations, were sure to catch everyone’s attention.

So you can imagine it was quite a scene when, at two in the afternoon, a small, previously invisible, bespectacled lady erupted from her quiet little corner.

“What?!?!”

The single word uttered slightly louder than the normal conversational voice made everyone turn their heads to discover she was speaking to someone on the phone.

“What do you mean I’m unfair?”

This came out even louder. The sound of keystrokes from the rest of the room had stopped completely. All eyes and ears were now glued to her.

“Of course I’m unfair! Life is unfair!” shouted the iron lady before slamming down the phone down as if to punctuate her statement.

It would be weeks before my colleagues and I would stop using her last sentence as our default answer to questions that began with why.

There’s always a thing or two you can learn from every person you meet, and at times they can be priceless. It doesn’t matter who they are, how old or young, what their status in life is, what religion they are part of, or which ideologies they subscribe to. If you truly listen — and often times more with the heart than with the head — you pick up a gem or two worth keeping for life.

In my case, it wasn’t the first time I learned something from a colleague. This fact is a source of happiness and inspiration, and gives me that much needed extra push when the seas I navigate turn rough. Being around people who are as committed as you in making a dent in the universe and on lifelong learning is truly priceless.

I can’t say what I received was unsolicited advice. Our discussion went from opportunities and challenges we faced at work to our own strengths and weaknesses both as individuals and as a group. Somewhere in the course of our conversation, I had praised this talented and determined individual for being consistently vocal about things we can improve while confessing that on more than one occasion I had allowed something below my standards to get past me. His response came swiftly, but naturally: “I think you must always insist on the beautiful.”

He had mentioned the movie where he got it from, but those details didn’t register. I got nothing even when I tried replaying the conversation in my head afterwards. No matter, the main message got across, and the realization that his words perfectly summed up my job description quickly followed — and stayed.

Whether you manage a person, a team or a company, insisting on the beautiful is part of your job to a great extent. From what to present to clients either as a proposal or a final product, to the kind of floor tiles to install in the office, there’s almost nothing too trivial when you care about achieving a beautiful result.

It’s a balancing act, of course. Do it too much and you either stifle the growth and learning of others, or risk tiring them out. Do it too little and you may find output that don’t align with your standards or expectations.

Always insist on the beautiful. Let those words liberate you from mediocrity, make you uncompromising in your quest for beauty, and refresh you in the long journey that still lies ahead. Allow those words be a perfectly valid reason when you need to assert what you truly know in your heart is beautifully appropriate. Make it a powerful tool to justify, motivate, inspire, diffuse or defuse.

How can beauty in itself be enough good reason? Because everything we hold dear is beautiful. Life is beautiful. Love is beautiful. If you believe in God, then you know Him to be beautiful too. And weren’t you made in His image and likeness, and aren’t you His co-creator? Then shouldn’t everything you create be as beautiful as it can be?

For beauty’s sake, insist on it.

Sometimes the words of people long gone echo in our heads not to scare or torment us but to remind us of something truly important. In my case, after losing them in the deepest recesses of my memory for over a decade, my grandfather’s word of wisdom would come to me in a flash of inspiration when I needed it. It would since reverberate in my mind every so often.

My grandfather was a brilliant man. For a profession he chose one that shaped futures. He was a university professor and dean, teaching and training eventual educators for over 40 years. His colleagues and students spoke very highly of him.

As a young boy I was taught to fear him. I only had to get a taste of his leather belt on my buttocks once to know he meant serious business. (The occasional welt served as a good memory pill for certain things like needing to be called only once when dinner is ready). With this fear, came respect, which over time grew into admiration once I got to observe how he got things done.

He excelled at everything I saw him do. A good carpenter, he built sturdy stools and spacious cabinets with his traditional hammer and saw, and consistently found time to lend me a hand with my school carpentry projects. As his own mechanic, he changed his car’s oil by his lonesome, coated the chassis with asphalt paint, and took pride at having a visibly clean engine. He even kept a journal exclusively for his trusty Volkswagen.

Apparently, he was also good at things I didn’t get a chance to witness him do firsthand. But proof of his brilliance weren’t difficult to find. Early in his days as a professor, he worked part-time as a silversmith to augment his income, and judging from the remnants of his work — earrings, necklaces and bracelets, they wouldn’t be that difficult to sell. (After his death, my grandmother proved this point too easily). His class cards from his postgraduate studies demonstrated he was a good student, recording high marks from a top university in the country. Plastered on our wall was a diploma for a radio electronics course that for years had me thinking he actually went to California; turns out he completed the study via correspondence.

One Saturday night, when I was about 9 or 10, while my brother and I were watching MacGyver on TV, I noticed my grandfather scribbling on his pad during commercial breaks. After the show was over, he revealed to us what he had quickly worked on, and to our eyes it was an accurate, even beautiful, sketch of our faces. I could not draw a matchstick if my life depended on it, so I was quick to admire his output. But the expression on his face didn’t hide his dissatisfaction with his own work. It took years for me to figure out the significance of that dissatisfied look.

I would hear my grandfather express disapproval whenever he saw work that he wasn’t happy with, one that he discerned was done haphazardly and wasn’t given the effort it deserved. This could be a student’s rushed paper, a riprapping job by hired hands that wasn’t exactly stellar, or even a bad road-paving project by the local government. At each of those instances, he would say “footwork”, along with the shake of the head.

He never really bothered to explain to me what he meant. He probably just assumed I would get it. And boy did I get it, especially after being on the receiving end of his criticism a number of times. Hearing him say that single word (“footwork”) was enough for me to feel guilty about either being too lazy or not giving the appropriate time it took to get a task done properly. Somehow I came to understand from his repeated use of an expression most unique that handwork was meant to be beautiful and the only way to be excused for churning out ugly work was if you say you used your feet instead. It was his way of criticizing substandard output and saying that anything worth doing was worth doing well.

What I appreciated about the way he voiced out that word either as a plain observation or private criticism was that it wasn’t borne out of a superiority complex or condescending nature. It never struck me to mean “you’re dumb” or “you’re no good”. It always sounded to me like, “you can do better than that” or even “is that the best you can do?”.

Not only did I occasionally fail to rise to the challenge, but I also turned out to be a poor keeper of personal histories. Somehow I had almost forgotten my grandfather even uttered that word. That is, until one day while I was talking in front of a group of students and the topic veered towards mediocrity. It came to me unexpectedly, ferociously. Footwork! I had to share it. According to a friend I was with, it was the best thing I had said during the two-hour talk. From then on, that single word would echo in my head every so often.

Why did he excel so much at things he put his mind on? Surely, he wasn’t good at everything? For one thing, he didn’t play the guitar like my mother did. I never got beaten by him in chess because we never played a single game. I didn’t even get the chance to determine if he was secretly competitive, like my mother and I am. And he can’t be instantly good at all those things I saw him do, right? For sure, he had talent. But no one could be a competent mechanic overnight. No hobbyist could finish in a day that correspondence course he completed. One can’t play the harmonica proficiently in a matter of minutes.

At any rate, what he chose to do, he did so very well. And maybe that was part of his secret: he didn’t set out to do a lot but opted to focus on a number of things and made sure he was good at them. That last part might as well be part of his secret too. He was committed and had the discipline to excel.

Looking back, it seems like his magic formula had always been in plain sight for me to see if only I were willing to pay attention enough. For instance, my mother already mentioned to me that my grandfather used to bring a tape recorder with him when he attended lectures in his masteral studies. Why it never occurred to me to utilize a similar method of immortalizing my college lectures, I don’t know. Then, he had a number of books about car mechanics and issues of Popular Electronics, and devoted hours reading them. He always seemed to be gaining time: he was constantly reading, typing, writing, checking papers, solving crossword puzzles or doing something engaging or productive. Moreover, he was never afraid to get his hands dirty to apply what he had learned, spending many occasions doing so. He would tear his engine apart midmorning and always managed to put it back together before dinner. He would smell of kerosene during Sunday lunches because he used the solvent to clean his greasy hands, the scent stubbornly clinging despite repeated washings. (Up to now, that odor would always turn back the clock for me to when he was still alive.) Also, he kept a routine and almost never deviated from it. Part of it was going to bed at 10 p.m. and waking up between 4-4:30 a.m. He’d read himself to sleep, and before breakfast he’d already manage to clean his car and shine our shoes, among other things.

By no means was he perfect. He used to smoke he said to me once, but he kicked the habit in an instant when he determined it was the appropriate time. “Sheer willpower” was his answer when I asked him how he did it. His marriage with my grandmother was also in trouble for some time but he managed to fix it after deciding it was “the right thing to do.” He was flawed as any of us could be, but how he turned things around, stood by his principles and applied the high standards he kept for himself made him all the more admirable in my eyes.

I was about 8 when I was bitten by a neighbor’s dog. I kept crying even when the initial shock and pain were long gone. “Don’t be such a baby, you’re not gonna die,” my grandfather said to me. I stopped almost immediately because he allayed my secret fear that he somehow discovered. I was 30 when I learned that doctors found a tumor in his colon. I started crying even before knowing all the details. “You’ll get well,” I texted him one day, “I’m still going to take you on a trip to Singapore.” He replied, “It’s up to the Lord now.” Somehow, his response gave me peace of mind.

He suffered quietly, in his own dignified way, in the months following the tumor’s discovery. He lived 9 months and 77 years.

Whatever your hand finds to do, do it with all your might, for in the realm of the dead, where you are going, there is neither working nor planning nor knowledge nor wisdom. – Ecclesiastes 9:10

A lot of people avoid Multi-level Marketing (MLM) like the plague, and for good reason — for every legit and good MLM company, hundreds of illegal or bad ones abound. But can there be success lessons from MLM applicable to your career, business and life in general? Well, I can tell you that a lot of what I learned from MLM were instrumental in forming, pivoting, expanding and eventually selling my own tech company several years after.

Before you read on, I’d like to clarify that I’m currently not part of any MLM organization. Neither am I endorsing any MLM company out there. My last involvement with the industry occurred over two years ago when my tech company — the same one I co-founded and sold — built a system for a hotel chain and an organization selling health products.

Below are some of the most important lessons I learned from being a network marketing associate.

1. You don’t have to live from paycheck to paycheck.

I was on my second job and fifth year of employment when Robert, a friend of a friend, invited me to join an MLM company.

In my first job, I had to do a number of things on the side to augment my meager income. It was clear to me from day one that getting overtime pay was not something I should expect. So, I learned how to write for print and TV. I  also forced myself to sell odd things like laundry soap and strawberry jams. I managed to do all these while performing adequately well at work, going way beyond the normal office hours and above the call of duty.

When I transitioned to my second job, I decided to focus on it entirely. I spent nearly all my extra hours on unpaid overtime work. I traded instant compensation for delayed gratification. I think the strategy paid off because I continued getting a series of promotions.

So, it was perfect timing when Robert gave me his pitch. Things were already pretty stable in the office. I also felt I had earned the liberty to spend hours outside the office however I pleased. Only one obstacle remained: I had to pay the PHP8,888 (US$217) starter pack required to become an MLM reseller.

In that span of five years as an employee I had managed to raise my monthly salary from about PHP8,000 (US$195) to about PHP45,000 (US$978). But even with the fivefold increase I was yet to be in good financial shape. I still could not afford the starter pack which was to be my ticket to a new adventure. Thankfully, Robert agreed to loan me the money and allowed me to pay him back from my MLM earnings.

Robert enticed me with the huge earning potential and the ability to get paid more than twice a month, among other things. But he clarified that it was up to me how much I wanted to make, contingent on the amount of effort I was willing to invest. I found the idea appealing, having accumulated tons of unpaid overtime hours at work and previously having spent significant time on my sidelines.

It was alluring to be shown proof that I didn’t have to wait for the 15th and 30th of each month to get paid. After all, I come from a family of employees where certain things revolved around paydays. It’s definitely not a bad habit to schedule expenses around salary dates. But as an employee with limited resources I had a hard time surviving until the next payday.

During the course of my MLM escapade, I proved what Robert said to be true and got what I deserved based on my efforts. You can probably imagine how refreshing and liberating it felt to receive money on a weekly basis. Some amounts were even bigger than my monthly salary. The additional income was not only useful for unplanned expenses but also instrumental in paying debts and getting rid of the bad but sometimes necessary habit of borrowing money.

As an employee, you can’t expect your company to pay you additional compensation for staying more than the required number of hours in the office. Thanks to my MLM experience, I learned that it wasn’t my employer’s job to make me rich. What you need is an eye-opener similar to mine to see the limitless possibilities that exists out there to get compensated equal to or far greater than the effort you exert. This realization can lead you to be bolder in pursuing similar opportunities in the future such as your own traditional or Internet business whether you do them full time or while being an employee.

Struggling to make ends meet doesn’t have to be permanent. The people I know who’ve come out of their MLM experience making even just a bit of money primarily of their own efforts have become more resilient and creative when it comes to generating additional income. My friend Robert (another one), for example, opened a restaurant after his first stab at MLM. As a testament to his continued success, he established a second branch about 10 years after. One great thing about such an experience is that it makes you see you’re ultimately responsible for your financial situation and that there’s always something you can do to improve it. It’s your job to make a better life for yourself, nobody else’s.

2. Your success depends on your ability to acquire and build leaders.

I was actually a rookie manager in my day job when I signed up for my first of only two MLMs. I was intent on doing well in this new role as well as in my MLM stint. But I was worried. I was not only venturing into unknown territory, I was also chasing two rabbits. I knew I had to develop certain talents and skills if I had any chance of succeeding.

I quickly realized there was a single key to victory for these two different goals: helping the people under me flourish. In turn, if those people helped the ones under them thrive, the results would flow all the way to the top back to me. In my simplistic point of view, I was in the business of people helping people. Recruiting and building leaders then was imperative for both undertakings. My MLM venture provided a good avenue for practice and experimentation in this regard.

You’ve probably heard of the saying the bigger the dream, the more important the team. Whether you’re a proprietor or an employee, the quality of people you have under you is tantamount to your success. Acquiring or building leaders, people who can make things happen for you, is crucial in helping you meet your goals in many endeavors. You need to be deliberate in your approach and take time to be hands-on in both selecting and training people.

3. Some form of selling is necessary for success.

I used to hate sales. Family members would discourage one another from buying something because “they were just being sales talked”. Either that or they would make someone guilty after a purchase because he or she was “just sales talked”. The terms sales and sales talk left a negative impression in my head for a long time because of this. Things quickly changed when I first became part of the work force and saw how highly regarded our sales team was. I had a newfound respect for sales after that.

My first real encounter with selling is a funny accident, a story I would save for a future article. But I joined my first MLM company with little faith in my ability to convince others to purchase my products or join my team. In the beginning, Robert gave all the presentations to my prospects. My job was simply to invite them and make sure they came.

After repeatedly seeing him do the presentations and answer mostly the same questions, I became certain I could do it myself. Furthermore, by the time I received my first few checks, I felt I had gained some credibility and confidence to present. I had become very much acquainted with the products we offered by then too. So, I copied most of his contents and techniques, incorporated my own style, practiced first with chairs, then people and got to work. Voilà! It worked like a charm. But only to a certain extent. I never received more rejections in my life.

Little did I realize then that things I had to do such as keeping a list of people I wanted to woo, enticing them to come, doing the actual presentations, handling objections, following up, and finally getting people signed up or receiving a definite no were all part of the sales process. How little did I know as well that all those practice and learning would come in handy in my next few jobs and businesses, and also in eventually selling my own tech company less than a decade later.

Sales could be something loathsome or mysterious for you. But in one form or another, it’s actually part of your daily life. Sales, distilled to its basic essence, is about influencing others to buy into your idea or product. You’re selling yourself when you go for a job interview or try to get someone to like you. You’re selling an idea when you’re trying to convince others to do something. There is no escaping sales too when you build your own business. You want to be successful? Learn how to sell.

4. The quality of your communication determines the quality of your success.

As an introvert, I rarely strike up a conversation with someone. It takes some effort for me to talk with other people and I feel sapped doing it for a long time. I envy friends who can start talking to strangers so effortlessly. I’m amused by people who seem more energized the longer they talk with others.

I somehow managed to excel in my first job while trying to avoid oral communication as much as possible. I relied a lot on e-mail instead. But every time I didn’t open my mouth to bring up an idea or to offer a solution during a meeting and a teammate beat me to it, I died a little inside. I would cringe, a feeling of fremdschämen overtaking me, when a colleague unknowingly makes an embarrassing mistake during a lecture or presentation. I knew I had better confront my irrational fear, lest I risked getting stuck or accepting mediocrity.

Fortunately, that first MLM experience allowed me to polish my skills in oral communication. I got the chance to talk to a whole lot of people, folks from all walks of life. I learned to establish rapport, read body language, argue logically, connect emotionally and apply the right tonality. I picked up things only steady practice and proper feedback could provide. I’m certainly a work in progress. But talking to hundreds of people during my MLM days helped me get to where I am now in terms of my communication.

The fear of public speaking is real. But with lots of practice, you can improve. Learning the difference in dynamics when you’re just talking with one other person, subordinate, colleague or superior, or with 10, 100 or 1,000 people in the room makes a big difference. Improving my communication has been the single most important factor in allowing me to multiply my income several times over the years. You want better relationships, better results? Work on your communication skills.

5. You need a coach or a mentor.

I’ve always been fortunate to have bosses who likewise served as good mentors. I appreciated them even more when I found myself in a dead-end job that had me questioning my future.

I consider my MLM experience a mild success. Had I not had good mentors (the Roberts were just two of them), that wouldn’t have been the case. They showed me the ropes and gave me tons of encouragement. More important, they held me accountable for results. Surely, I’ll be a better mentee if I could go back in time. I would pay more attention, ask more questions and request more feedback. I would copy more of what they did to pass on to my team. I would be even more successful and save more time, blood, sweat and tears.

Why reinvent the wheel when it’s possible to benefit from people who’ve done it before? Get expert advice and the kind of accountability that keeps you pushing forward. Still in debt for years despite a ten-fold increase in your salary? Recognize that you’re not a good financial adviser to yourself and get a professional. Constantly in the gym but not seeing results? Hire a personal trainer. Always on a diet but not making much progress? Get a nutritionist. Starting up a business? Find someone who’s done it before and get advice.

6. You can’t please everyone and you shouldn’t.

I should have learned this earlier and now it’s something I have to remind myself once in a while.

I mentioned that never did I get more rejections in my life prior to my MLM journey. But it wasn’t just all about the noes I’ve received from prospects that taught me this lesson. I failed to recognize it then, yet it was in every part of the process from beginning to end. It seemed that no matter what I did, I couldn’t make everyone happy. How unwise of me then to even think I should try.

People believe what they want to believe. Others care for only what’s convenient for them. Some aren’t willing to help themselves even when you so earnestly desire their success and go out of your way to help. Trying to please everyone around you can be costly and can do more harm than good. It is a path to futility.

In Sheryl Sandberg’s book, Lean In, she talks about her first performance review with Mark Zuckerberg: “One of the things he told me was that my desire to be liked by everyone would hold me back. He said that when you want to change things, you can’t please everyone. If you do please everyone, you aren’t making enough progress.”

Sometimes, the only way you can move forward is by getting some people upset. As long as you know what you’re doing is right and is aligned to your values, press on.

Perhaps Rick Warren put it best when he said, “Even God can’t please everybody. Only a fool would try to do what even God can’t do.”

All good things

All good things must come to an end to make way for the better as the best is yet to come.

Robert, the one who opened up a restaurant, was one of my leaders during my initial attempt at MLM. A couple of years after, he invited me to join him on another MLM ride and I acquiesced. He was a better leader to me than I ever was to him. But in the end, I didn’t do as well as I did in my first try. It was my fault entirely — my heart wasn’t in it.

Fast-forward many years later, the other Robert invited me to sign up with him in yet another MLM company. This time, I respectfully declined.

It was fun while it lasted. I learned a lot and gained a few friends along the way. But ultimately I realized that becoming a serial network marketer wasn’t for me. I wanted to make my mark some other way but I made sure to carry all the lessons I’ve learned from those days.

“All glory comes from daring to begin.” – Eugene F. Ware

It’s strikingly simple but absolutely powerful: you’ll never make it to the finish line if you don’t take that first step.

Take this article for example, it would have never been written if I didn’t set out to finally sit down and type that very first word. Sure, I spent some time thinking about it beforehand. Then I wrote, erased and revised until I was satisfied, which took even more time. But I would have never gotten anywhere if just kept thinking and never actually started doing.

The very act of starting accomplishes a number of things:

1. It breathes life into an idea and gives clarity in terms of direction.

Before I started writing this, I had an idea of what I wanted to tackle. The first sentence crystallized that idea into something tangible, something alive. Midway into the first paragraph, I realized a way I could be serving my intended audience better. I decided to focus on a subset of my original topic instead. After just taking a few steps, I gained much needed clarity.

Do you remember hesitating to take action about something you felt good about? How about those times you acted on those good feelings and found the experience rewarding afterwards? What about that first conversation with a stranger that opened the door to a very good friendship? What about that single episode that got you hooked to a TV series until its final episode years later? Or that visit to a restaurant that made you a regular and one of its biggest fans?

Failure As A First Step To Success

If there’s one incentive to getting started, it’s the learning you gain from taking a few steps. This is true whether you ultimately decide to push forward or make a full stop down the road.

The tech startup world now espouses the idea that products must be rolled out sooner rather than later to get much needed learning. Resulting lessons can then be applied to future versions (iterations) of the product. This approach handles failure in a spectacular way, making it less costly in terms of time, effort and money. After all, you’d rather have a failure that cost you two employees, three months and a few thousand dollars than one costing you 200 employees and millions of dollars after three years. Handled properly, failure becomes temporary and serves as a valuable tool in making improvements.

The bold recommendation for entrepreneurs is to fail faster to accelerate learning. Like mastering how to ride a bike, learning how to fall can be a crucial part of your success. The sooner, the better. You don’t get to fail if you never even begin to move. But that gives you absolutely no chance of succeeding, which is an even bigger failure in itself.

2. It gives momentum to keep moving forward.

After finishing a number of words in this post, then sentences, I’m propelled and compelled to move forward. Even when I can’t find the words to say, I get a thrust to carry on after reading what I’ve written so far, realizing I’ve made it to a certain point so there’s no reason I shouldn’t be able to move even further. The more I carry on and the faster I try to accomplish what I had set out to do, the more difficult I find it to stop.

Ever started something you found hard to discontinue? Ever experienced being in a state of flow? How about being in the zone or in a roll?

It can take only a spark to get the fire going and at times very little effort to keep it burning. The thing is, you don’t reap the benefits of gaining momentum if you don’t move first.

I know of people who’ve always thought of adopting a health regimen such as running but never got to part where they actually begin. I also know about people who can’t stop running simply because they’ve already started. Of course, they’re aware of the health benefits, but they’d tell you they run every day mostly because they run everyday. I can very much relate because when I took up the sport a little over five years ago, I ran everyday and joined one marathon after another mostly because I had gotten used to doing so. When you find yourself in a similar position, it just doesn’t feel right and even scary to stop, not when you have built so much momentum.

3. It builds confidence that gives birth to other things.

Some articles are harder to write than others. I seldom finish one in a single sitting. Often times, it takes a couple of days, multiple revisions included. Somewhere here in what you’re reading right now, I either slowed down or got stuck. I probably revised a single sentence way too much. But once I got over the hump, the fun continued.

In the past, I’ve written articles, poems, scripts, stories, reports, copies, case studies, emails and even personal letters, encountering moments when it seemed like I was permanently stuck. Faced with such, I try to recall a similar but triumphant experience even further into the past and summon the confidence I’ve gained from it to finish the task at hand. I do this over and over with each additional challenging task I encounter. In the end I always come out learning that the seemingly permanent predicament I was in was actually temporary, giving me greater confidence.

Of course, taking the first step to success is sometimes the most difficult part. Which is why I’ve learned to use this accumulated confidence not just when I’m already in a rough patch but also when I’m just about to begin a knowingly arduous task. I convince myself I’d get through like I always did in the past if only I found the courage to start.

At times it’s just the lack of confidence that hinders you to even begin, but realize that confidence is gained from having accomplished something in the past, which isn’t possible if you never really start on anything. The confidence you build from experience is instrumental in future endeavors even when the circumstances are not very similar.

Taking That First Step To Success

Planning to learn a new language? Perhaps taking up a new instrument? Getting into shape? Forming a good habit? Always dreamed of starting that business but never gone around to actually trying?

There is only so much dreaming, thinking and planning you can do.

You need to take that first step to success. Get to the act of doing. Do it now.

It still amazes me how a change in perspective alters the way we see things. There was a time when I expressed my opinion that it would make HDBs look neater and maybe a bit more sophisticated if they were painted mostly white, or at least of a lighter shade. I imagined the entire of Singapore having rows and rows of white buildings as dwelling places. When I finally listened to what I was saying, I wanted to smack myself in the head.

Over the years, I’ve encountered a number of Singaporeans who say that their country, Singapore, is boring.  I don’t agree with their observation perhaps because I’m an introvert (i.e., I keep to myself and find it hard to be bored).  But a quick googling of “Singapore is boring” reveals how popular this sentiment is.  Allowing my idea to see the light of day doesn’t exactly help disprove this notion.

For most part of my life, at least up to the present, I have never been one to live inside a dull, ordinary white box. I realize now that choice had a lot to do with it but this hasn’t always been the case, especially during the dark moments, when I was afflicted with the victim mindset. What lead me away from this mentality? A change of perspective of course. And a decision to continuously live under bright light.

Living outside a boring white box means life being an adventure, taking risks, learning new things and setting up one’s self where a thing or two eventually goes wrong. It is a life filled with colors, one that requires a person to see things not in black and white but in the full spectrum of light. But it is also a life where things don’t always go as planned and therefore one filled with tears, laughter, hope and disappointment. But isn’t that what life is all about?

It’s true, a change of perspective can shed new light and bring fresh color to an otherwise dull and boring view.  Perhaps it’s time to tilt those lenses?

***

Is job security or the stability of tenure a thing of the past?

Thursday Doomsday

Fresh from the news of the coordinated bombings and attacks on Mumbai, it was no ordinary Thursday for a large bank’s IT group, who, apart from having to bear the terrible news, considered it a day of reckoning, one that would determine their fate at work.

Among the employees of that group in the Merlion City are Kate and Lei, both women and contractual employees. They worked in different departments but held office on the same floor of the same building. Both are foreign workers, hail from the same country, and are permanent residents of Singapore.

Apart from these similarities, their backgrounds and circumstances vary greatly. Kate is single, not marrying anytime soon, but does not wish to retain that status forever. She sends two of her nieces to school back at home. She pays for their tuition, lab fees, books and allowances, and would very much like to keep her job. Lei is married and is pregnant with her first baby for a little over a month. Although she is not entirely convinced that they —husband and wife— are financially ready to have a child, she accepts her destiny wholeheartedly and prepares herself as much as she can for the lifelong vocation of motherhood. At these very early stages of her pregnancy, she finds the changes in her body difficult to cope up with and has taken several leaves of absence from work since the doctor confirmed her condition. She’s been wishing to get fired, not wanting to file her resignation because she’ll have to pay an entire month’s worth of wages for not fulfilling a year’s service, a condition stipulated in her contract.

On that fateful day, Lei was given a wake-up call at 7:30 a.m. by her agency, a term she has gotten used to calling her employer which proclaimed itself as an IT solutions and services provider in its website the first time she visited. She was requested to “come down to the office for something important”. She asked if she could just go some other day because she was on MC (medical certificate: the shortened form has become synonymous with medical leave). The other person on the line stressed it was really important and she had to come right away. At that moment, finally, it hit her.

Kate got her call at around 8:30 a.m. She immediately knew when her phone rang. And so she showered, got dressed, skipped breakfast and went straight to the agency’s office, one bus ride and fourteen MRT stations away.

Kate was a bit surprised to find a lot of other people when she arrived. With their office attires, they looked like they were waiting to be interviewed. Except that some of them had their laptops in tow and most everyone wore a grim expression on their face. Kate wondered how many of them were not even aware of the reason they were there.

Just then, the lady who was responsible for recruiting her came through the door.  “Hi Kate! What are you doing here?”

“I’m here to get retrenched. But how nice of you to ask,” Kate kept to herself what would have been her answer. Instead, she smiled back and waved.

Kate sighed with relief when the recruiter went on her way to wherever she was supposed to. Kate had to wait for a while before it was finally her turn.

“Hi Kate!” An HR associate greeted her cheerfully, motioning her to come into the meeting room. “How are you today?”

Kate only managed to smile.

“Hi! How are you,” said the HR Vice-President who was already waiting in the conference room.

“I’m fine,” replied Kate after she realized the lady seemed to be waiting for a reply. She found the situation awkward and amusing, but not without a trace of irony.

“The reason why we called you is to tell you, that unfortunately, it’s your last day on the job…” The vice-president went about telling her that it wasn’t because of her performance or anything she might have done or failed to do, that it was a difficult decision that the client was forced to make.  She was told that to help her tide over, she was going to be given another month’s worth of salary while she looked for a new job, on her own, without the agency’s help. She was asked to sign some papers and to surrender her company ID and security badges. The whole thing took less than ten minutes.

Later that afternoon, Lei’s turn came. It wasn’t that different from Kate’s experience. Only that in Lei’s circumstance, she felt happy. How could she not? Apart from getting her wish, they were paying her an extra month including all the leaves she had taken during the last month, both official and unofficial.

Permanent Redefined

Mike got his first job in Singapore as a consultant through a body shop disguised as a consulting firm. He left his previous job of six years back at home.

“I’m offering you a permanent job, you got that?” said the man Mike spoke to on the phone. “Lower your asking salary a bit.”

Mike went to work in the consulting firm’s office, supporting an IT service for a large multinational company (MNC) whose headquarters in Asia is in Singapore.

Three months later, the MNC decided to move its support operations to India. “So much for job security,” Mike thought, but he must have been the only person in the office who was secretly happy to be losing his job. It was the worst he ever had to endure but he couldn’t resign without paying a huge penalty. He had no qualms about the consulting firm not finding him another “project” despite his permanent status. Besides, he was given two months notice, which was more than enough for him to find a new job.

Fortunately, he did find new employment. Since then, he would go on interviews from time to time, checking out what good opportunities might come his way.

On one such interview, Sumi, a contractual employee of another large bank who was authorized to hire people needed for a particular project, played the role of the interviewer.

“How’s your employment right now? I mean, is it contractual or permanent?” Sumi asked.

“Permanent.”

“Oh. The job I’m offering you is contractual. Are you interested?”

Mike reluctantly said yes.

“But you know the difference between a permanent and a contractual employee here in Singapore, right?” Sumi asked, sensing Mike’s hesitation.

Mike gave a chuckle. Although he’d never really thought about it before, he knew where Sumi was going.

“None.  There’s no real difference.” Sumi said, answering his own question.

Mike realized that in more ways than one, Sumi was right, finally realizing the irony in his previous experience.

Body Shop

Landing in a permanent job doesn’t eliminate the possibility of getting fired or retrenched. It’s even worse for people who get deceived into taking a seemingly permanent job. Some are hired into permanent positions by companies similar to that of Kate’s and Mike’s who have managed to redefine the word permanent. Such companies advertise as consulting firms or IT services & solutions providers and conveniently exclude manpower services from their websites as part of what they offer. People like Kate who end up working for them usually become permanent employees of the firm while managing to be contractual employees of other firms, the latter being the former’s clients. The same case is true for people like Mike who get assigned to “projects”. Some of these falsely advertising companies go as far as providing job offer letters stating that the employment being offered is permanent, only to make applicants —later on when it’s usually too late for them to back out— sign a employment contracts stipulating that their employment is co-terminus with the contracts between the company and its clients where the applicants are to be assigned. Applicants like Mike are left no choice but to capitulate, having traveled all the way from their home countries,  having already invested time and money and having quit their original jobs. And when these employees’ contractual employment become terminated, rather than helping them find a new workplace, their permanent employer would no sooner make them sign a release waiver saying that the company’s obligation with them has ended. The term body shop has been used to refer to this type of companies. For employees of such companies, the term has become synonymous with exploitation and deception. There is no such thing as job security with these body shops.

During a short trek in the hills of Ubud in Bali, Indonesia, we met an artist by the name of Wayan Rana. Pak Wayan is a traditional painter, born into a family of artists. His grandfather was a dancer and a wood carver; his father, a stone carver.

While it was his egg paintings displayed atop a bamboo table that initially caught our attention and lured us towards him and eventually inside his small shop, it was an acrylic painting that captivated my imagination. The artwork depicted seven maidens in a forest, two of them taking a bath in a stream.

“This is a nice painting,” I remarked.

“Oh. That is the story of Raja Pala and the seven maidens. Do you know the story?”

“The one where he hides one of the maiden’s wings?” I answered Pak Wayan’s question with a question, making a guess based on the clues I saw in the painting and a story I heard from a writer two years ago. It was my first time to hear the name Raja Pala.

“Yes. Then they bore a child…”

“And later she went back to heaven after she got her wings back?” I asked, cutting him off again. It dawned on me that the story I heard wasn’t exactly original.

“Ahh… Yes!” Wayan Rana replied with a smile, obviously pleased that I seemed to know the story.

The story, as recounted by the Balinese, goes like the following.  Raja Pala was a clever hunter who discovered Dedari, the secret place of heavenly maidens. While the maidens were taking a bath in a stream, he steals one of their magical gowns, the one belonging to Sulasih. Without her magical gown, Sulasih couldn’t fly back to heaven with her friends.  Raja Pala successfully carries out his plan to convince Sulasih to agree to bear him a child that she has to take care for seven years before he returned her magical gown. Indeed, after bearing a son, Durma, and taking care of him for seven years, Sulasih got to return to heaven. Raja Pala gave up hunting and became a holy man.

“How much for this painting?” I asked, seriously considering buying it.

Wayan gave me his price, explaining that this was far cheaper than the amount it was sold for in a gallery in Ubud, where many of his works were also displayed. Knowing that we were also interested with the egg paintings, Wayan offered us a good price if we bought one of them together with the Raja Pala. He lowered the price further when we said we couldn’t take the carved mahogany frame because we already had too much luggage to carry back home.

The price was really good, I thought, considering that it took him nine days to finish an acrylic painting, one and a half days for a small egg and three days for a big egg painting.

“The traditional paintings take a longer time to finish than the abstract ones.” Wayan explained.

“I see. I prefer the traditional ones,” I said.  It was true. I heard someone say he preferred abstract paintings because the real world could already be captured in photographs — a sentiment I didn’t share.  As I gave the Raja Pala a second look, I knew I was happily saying goodbye to my original thought of having a lush landscape for my first painting purchase.

“I also prefer to make traditional paintings than abstract. Do you also paint?”

“No. As an artist, I’m a writer, at best,” I replied, wondering if he saw the connection between a painter and a writer like I did.

How we were going to bring home the painting undamaged without the frame, was the next question. But Wayan had a ready answer, said he’d put the painting between two pieces of plywood before wrapping it.

With his permission, we took pictures of some of his works. Then, reading our mind, he offered to be photographed, and I had the feeling he had done this more than once. We were more than happy to indulge and in fact, we had already taken pictures of some of the people we met in Bali – waiters, hotel staff, market vendors, the kid who sold us silver, the animal handler at the Bali Elephant Camp, our driver, and many others.

Next, I sat beside him first and had our picture taken. That was for my private album. Then I stood up to take his picture, specifically for this post.

“Where are you from?” Pak Wayan asked.

We told him.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen your currency before,” Wayan stated matter-of-factly, his curiosity as an artist, obvious.

I rummaged through my wallet and took a note, offering it to him the way we were taught to present our business cards. He looked at it with great interest, scrutinizing the details front and back.

“Do you know the equivalent in rupiah?” Wayan asked.

I replied as I put my wallet back into my pocket.

Wayan, with the keen eye of a painter, noticed this.

“Oh. Are you giving me this…?”, he asked, even though he extended his hand towards us, returning the money.

“Yes. Please keep it.”  I smiled and made a halting motion with my hand.

“Thank you. You are very kind,” Wayan replied, reciprocating the smile as he bowed his head slightly. I could sense his sincerity in every syllable and movement.

As we walked away from Wayan Rana with our prized artworks in our bags, we noticed the obvious void from where the painting we bought used to hang. We knew it would soon be filled again. But we also knew that other than the exchange of money and goods, the tiny joys we had bartered and the new strands of memories we had weaved left something indelible in our hearts and minds.

We wished him more voids on his wall and bulging pockets in the days to come, and a heart bloated with glee all the days of his life.