Decisions

I've made countless bad decisions in my life.  Some were as trivial as the vomit-green t-shirt I bought at Banana Republic, not capturing a pawn that turned a winning chess game into a draw, and ordering hot fudge sundae when my combo meal drink was a Coke (blech!).

However, some of these choices are not so inconsequential.  I screamed a lot when I was a kid, just to irk my family.  That resulted in me having to go through a yucky throat treatment, leaving me with this raspy voice quality that flushed my dream of becoming the next Pavarotti down the pipes.  Then there's this decision of mine to leave my school bag in an unguarded place.  It got stolen, bag, books, notes for the exam the day after, scientific calculator, wallet holding my ATM cards, school ID, etc.  Everything that I held precious in my young student life.  That incident left me devastated for weeks, not to mention poor grades that disqualified me for a Presidential Scholarship the following semester.

When you do make these bad decisions, other people seem to be always there, to remind you of them.  Expect to hear comments from the polite "If I were you I would've..." to the downright soul-wrenching "You're so $#%@ stupid" from friends, family, and even your own conscience (ala Safeguard commercial).

These days, when I wake up every morning, especially weekday mornings, I'm constantly reminded of this "bad" choice I made not too long ago, a choice that was downright illogical if you really think about it.  A choice that significantly altered the course of my life.

I did not take the IBM employment offer.  In other words, I currently do not have a job.  Nothing.  Zilch.  Nada.  Mei Yow.  Wala.  My contract with IBM expired last June 30, 1999.  Since then, I've been part of the unemployment statistics.

So what did I just forego?  A lot actually.  Like an above average salary.  Green card sponsorship which, when processed by IBM, takes less time than most.  Prestige factor in being an employee of the largest hardware, software, and services provider in the world.  Yearly trips to Cancun, Mexico (c/o my team lead).  Trips to Hawaii and England (c/o my officemate).  Free ski lessons (c/o my team lead and my officemate).  X years of unadulterated fun in Poughkeepsie (or rather, X*52 weekends of fun in NYC).

But I said No Thank You.

I was given my share of "If I were you..." and "You're so stupid" remarks by everybody.  I'd normally say in response: "I'm looking for a better offer."  They'd scratch their heads and ask "What, more money?"  I'd say "Uhm, something like that."  And they'd leave me in peace.  Well, it wasn't really the money.  But what was I supposed to tell them?  The truth?  And risk another round of admonition?

What was the truth?  The truth was, if I took the IBM offer, then I would be getting the above average salary every year.  IBM would sponsor my green card, so I could permanently reside and work in the U.S.  I could hold my head up high every time I walk into Barnes and Noble, with my IBM badge "accidentally" left pinned on my shirt or jeans after office hours.  Every June I would be diving in Cancun with my team lead's family and friends.  Every time my officemate had a party to attend either in Hawaii or in England, I could come with her.  January or February my team would go out on ski trips to Hunter Mountain or Belle Ayre.  The rest of the weekends of the year, I would be going to the city and have a blast with my friends.

I would be doing the same fun stuff a year later.  And again a year after that.  Year after year after year.  I would have fun.  But it would be the same fun.  If there's something I find very hard to do, it's to laugh at the same joke twice with the same intensity.

So I said No to IBM, and Yes to a life full of uncertainties, doubts, and mysteries.  Today is August 12.  It's been 43 days, and I don't have "better offers" (or any offer for that matter) from other companies yet.  My apartment lease ends Sept. 10.  After that, I will wake up in the morning to a different view (hopefully it's a different ceiling, and not the morning sun rising over Central Park).  I'm still waiting, hoping, and praying that I (very soon) find that "perfect" job, one that will allow me to retain my perhaps childish sense of adventure.  And all this wait is making my friends and family squirm uncomfortably.

But you know what?  I'm having the time of my life.