When the cruel hand crushes the rose, the rose bathes the hand with perfume. For comments that you do not wish to publish, email mikoy_blog@yahoo.com
It has always been interesting to describe your own boss regardless whether you like him or not. Some employees quit their jobs because they feel they are being treated unfairly. A few abhor their bosses but are able to tolerate the daily horror at work and stay stuck to the relationship. Some are staunch supporters that remain to be in amicable terms and choose to stay enchained. Truly there are different descriptions, reactions, perceptions about one’s boss. There are some you would love some you would wish to be marooned in the most desolated forests colonized by wolfhounds if possible. Where does my boss come in the list?
Scott Adams who created the comic character Dilbert and wrote The Joy of Work proposed four types of boss in his book. The capable harmless (CH); the capable evil (CE); the incompetent harmless (IE); and the incompetent evil. If Adams would enter my room and ask me where does my boss fall under, I would say he missed out on the capable misunderstood (CM)!
I went to Tagaytay Highlands for the first time with friends on a drab Saturday in August. The rain bathed the fevered soils and clouds hovered over the crescentic highways of Ternate. It almost felt like the day belonged to the dark depths of June. Despite the trying precipitation, highlands was a lush landscape of beauty -- studded with golf holes and high priced square houses perched on top of a deluxe mountain that rises about 200 meters from the plateau ground. It brags a tranquil atmosphere and luxuriously manicured gardens with so many amenities at which vacationers can spend the rest of the day to free them from the pressures of work in Manila. The funicular on the cliff railway, similar to the Duquesne, not only transports golfers to and from both ends of the golf club, but also stood as an accessory for the remote playground. Swiss engineered cable cars traversed over the wet trees of Highland’s steep hills. We went to the China Palace to have lunch. The food, reminiscent of oriental culture, brought back memories of the best cook of my sinicized grandmother when she was alive. I was like a child tasting sugar for the first time, dabbing and tasting it over and over again. The charming waitress looked like she had been on standby in front of my table for the whole period maybe she wanted to talk to me (wink!). The cuisine left me wondering why this place should be too remote for people to see. So I managed to write a note on a tissue to solicit a branch in QC. My friends and I spent the afternoon by the pool and talked about primordial friends that were long gone and those we have managed to stick with. Before dinner, we took pictures of ourselves and did poses only the mental would dare to do. Dinner was Italian themed this time with white aproned waitresses swarming around the table. Food was equally delicious; the room was well lit enough to make everyone lethargic. We all went home with a full stomach. Descending Ternate was more daring. With the sky as dark as black coffee and with clouds that dropped to as low as zero visibility, the van driver had to pull down the windows just to get a good view of the periphery. The wind pushed my face away from the door and the mist pelted my right sleeve like little bullets. It was a long ride back to Manila.
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