Causes + Bosses

Entrepreneursh–t

this story originally appeared in the philippine daily inquirer on February 22, 2011.

IN A perfect world where fairies exist, nobody smokes, your phone service provider doesn’t charge you for data services since you have an unlimited services plan, the President’s team of communication experts doesn’t need a guide to know good manners, and my father would appreciate it if her firstborn is still employed instead of asking for P100 to buy something from time to time.

But alas, this is reality, and unfortunately for him, I am not employed anymore. Within a span of one year, I resigned from my first job and my second—not exactly something you would want to write in one sentence, but I just did and I have not broken down in tears.

My father has dealt with this diplomatically, first by asking “What’s wrong?” and then moving on to talking to my mother about what I planned to do and finally to telling me when I ask, “I don’t have money” or “What do you need the money for?”

There are three golden rules you should know before tendering your resignation. First, don’t resign if you don’t have a new job to move into. Second, don’t resign if you don’t have at least six months worth of savings to live on. Third, don’t resign unless you have paid off your debts.

I didn’t follow any of these rules and, had I been born to an American family, I probably would be out in the streets by now begging for alms. But I wasn’t, and I am grateful. At 23 and without a job, no savings and saddled with debts, I am happy my mother has not poisoned me yet.

What was the reason for my resignation? I wanted to be an entrepreneur. And like every kid whose parents own a business and who has the opportunity staring her in the face, I said I wanted to learn the ropes of managing the family business.

It has not been easy. During our discussions, my mom said one of her misgivings was that I would lose my identity. To be honest, I couldn’t understand it. How could I lose my identity by being in the business and handling the cash register?

But now, one month since my last day of work, I have realized what it truly meant. I had the dream: a corporate e-mail address, my own local number, something to wake up for and something to go home from, people to deal with, a computer, billable hours, meetings to attend, a paycheck and a title to go after my name. And an answer to the question: What do you do?

But today, how would I answer that question? I am not an entrepreneur (at least not yet)—I did not create the business. Like children of other entrepreneurs I have to admit that I didn’t create the machine—I just benefit from it.

When I give instructions to our employees, some of whom have been in the business longer and know how to run the business better than me, even without college diplomas, I wonder what they see—a new, competent boss or my mother’s representative? I am not sure and I am too scared to ask.

Who am I? I already had the dream, twice—and I was asking what was wrong with me. I already had the life that I could explain to people during family reunions. But I woke up one morning and realized I wasn’t happy. When I was in the office, I counted the days until the next weekend. I waited for holidays like my life depended on them. I learned and did things that weren’t important to me anymore.

My dad said I should be grateful that I didn’t have to go to job fairs to find employment, and I was. I was grateful to the companies I worked for, but they didn’t deserve to have an unmotivated employee. So I left to follow my heart.

You know the dream? It’s not a dream anymore. And it shows on my credit card statement. I read somewhere that “money can’t buy you happiness but unhappiness can cost you money.” Mine is worth P60,000. That may not amount to much for some people, but that’s what it cost to buy things I don’t even remember or to pay for solitary dinners which made me fatter.

But before you get any idea that being an entrepreneur is easy, think about this. My former supervisor and now my forever friend Michelle puts it this way, “Entrepreneurship, like being an employee, is not for everyone. You have to know who you are.”

First, there are no holidays or weekends. If you work for your mommy, when it comes to business she’s not your mommy and you are not her daughter. Every time is the perfect time to discuss business, so it’s like a management committee meeting anytime you feel like it. The hours are horrendous. It is 7:28 p.m. and I just woke up, and I have to go to work. And you can’t expect praise when you do something right.

In my head, there are 101 things buzzing all at the same time. My feet hurt and my face is breaking out. I can’t check my Facebook as regularly as I used to. A friend is asking when I would be free for drinks and I can’t even give her a definite answer. All these even though I am not working every single day yet.

There are times when I think of shelving this dream and going back to my past life. Even my mother thinks I’m ready to give up. But then one night, a customer comes up to me, gives his order and complains about how tired and frustrated he is with his work and yet he still has to stay and drink with people he doesn’t even know, and I know I made the right move. I was a few months from being that person and if it meant losing my identity to not be that person, then losing it was worth all the trouble.

Being in business has its good times and bad times. I can’t say how you can tell if you are cut out for it, but I’m lucky I don’t have to invest any money to know. You have this so-called passion, sure, but reality can hit you hard.

But if by passion you mean you have this insatiable fire burning, you don’t have a constant need to be praised or be loved by the whole world, you have this unexplainable need to create something even if nobody understands it, you have a specific vision that plays in your head in full color, you have the willingness to learn stuff that seem unimportant, you have an idea that keeps you awake at night like a nightmare, and you know deep inside your ambitious exterior that this is all far more than just the money and it is your life and what it means to be alive, and your day job is this big dragon at the gate that just gets in the way of the action—then go ahead, take the plunge, rock on.

My favorite entrepreneur Steve Jobs once said in a commencement speech: “Your time is limited, so don’t waste it living someone else’s life. Don’t be trapped by dogma—which is living with the results of other people’s thinking. Don’t let the noise of other’s opinions drown out your own inner voice. And most important, have the courage to follow your heart and intuition. They somehow already know what you truly want to become. Everything else is secondary.”

I am still a long way from what I want to be, which is to be an authentic entrepreneur and go off and build something and make a difference, but isn’t the thought of it happening the best way to wake up and be alive for?

Patricia G. Malong

Patricia G. Malong, 23, was a PR specialist and account manager before turning into an unemployed pseudo-entrepreneur.

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