Looking up, from the top

MANILA, Philippines - I never imagined that I would be president or general manager of a corporation, even though the company that employs me is still not a major player in the FMCG industry. As a child, what I really imagined was to be President of the Philippines.

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Five years ago, I was thrust into this position of having to lead a start-up operation as general manager, handling 29 people. The mother company had been hugely successful in Indonesia for a decade already at that time, and aimed to duplicate its success here in our local shores. With my then-nine years of sales and marketing experience in a couple of multi-national companies, it was not totally unreasonable to believe that it was my time, and that I was fully ready for this great challenge. Career-wise, it may not have been the safest route to take, given that we would be starting from nil. However, the ego led the way. The drama that played in my head was that this would be the culmination of my life experiences, training, and everything I have gone through and accomplished – from being valedictorian of my nursery class, corps commander of the Service Scouts, starting point-guard of our champion high school class team, all the way to being a top salesman in Mindanao and project leader of a couple of successful new product launches, one of them an insecticide. All small in scale and semi-trivial in significance, but I will not quite apologize. For it was precisely this uncanny resemblance to those experiences of being a successful big fish in a small pond which made the environment familiar, and the decision a no-brainer. Aaaah, GM of my own small company. Perfect. Just like it has always been. I was very grateful for the opportunity to live out my significance.

But as the battle-tested veterans among you would surely know, the times ahead would be nowhere near my previous experiences. After the first semester in 2004 which saw us quickly bring our first brand to a solid number three position in its market by stealing hefty share numbers from the leaders, everything else has been a constant test of will, patience and resolve.

First of all, I was not ready to be not ready. My parents, teachers and mentors have been one in saying all these years that preparation is everything. And so, I have been used to reaping small success after small success by ensuring that I always enter an arena fully prepared. I firmly idolized Mark Spitz who said that before he won his seven Olympic golds in the 70’s, he had already swum the events a thousand times in his head. That is the extreme and maniacal degree of preparation I admired and very much tried to live out.

But honestly, the situation did not allow such preparation, at least not the kind I was used to. All that I was as a manager was all that I could bring in to this company back then. When a tough puzzle came up, there seemed to be no time to step back and study, as most of the situations in a start-up operation require immediate resolution. I huffed and puffed my way through the requirements, if only to ensure survival. If there was any similarity to my fairly glorious run in school, it was only to the teacher’s command upon the bell – “finished or not finished, pass your paper.” It was not the type of similarity I had hoped for.

Secondly, I found out painfully the big difference between multi-national and start-up, especially in terms of nailing down distributor partners. If you carry a soft drink brand or the best-selling shampoo, these distributors come to you. But when you’re peddling a dream, something that may become big a few years down the road, then you go to them. And boy, did I go to them – all 23 of them. From Ilocos down to Zamboanga. It was not so much the physical effort of taking the Super Ferry from Iloilo to Bacolod in stormy seas, where the captain would ask the passengers to hush up because “he was concentrating.” It was not so much the hotels which don’t have towels because “all the towels are still wet.” Or that the hotel breakfast was not yet ready at 7:30 am because “may lakad yung kusinero.”

It was really more the constant shutting of doors, even before the first word of my sales pitch was uttered. It was more of going back to the same hotel room (still with no dry towels), waiting for the next appointment with another distributor candidate, hoping that I get to at least introduce the company and our products. And it was the arid feeling of being in a vacuum, not having a sense of how far success or failure is.

But lastly and most significantly perhaps, I humbly learned that this whole deal is not about me. This is not about my career reaching its peak and storybook ending. It is not about one person’s quest to make sure his life is not wasted, after all the education, training and experiences. It is not about me living out my significance.

Working with my team and knowing them quite personally have given me this biggest surprise of all – that more than anything, 29 other lives and families are rooting for this company to succeed so that they too may have a taste of some comfort and success. Sure, every additional market share point makes my resume a little bit more attractive. But if we take out the emotional narcissism, that same market share point is just basically a slightly stronger assurance that employment goes on, everybody’s kids continue going to school, employees can continue extending monthly groceries support to their parents, and that we all will live to fight another month.

Today, after five years, 12 product lines, 25 well-established regional distributors, a fairly smooth operation with a steady cash flow, how I wish I could complete the cinderella story with an inspiring array of amazing statistics. “From nothing to one billion!” – or some awesome milestone like that. But this story is not yet done, it is still being written. We continue to be inspired by the thought that one day, all our sacrifices and effort and creativity will pay off. For now, we are thankful that our small boat is afloat, moving in a positive direction.

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I will certainly never become the President of the Philippines. Between my three girls at home and 29 teammates at work, I cannot imagine handling a bigger responsibility, much less the future of this poor and ravaged republic. But this I know: the future of the country is no longer in the hands of one President. It is ultimately in the hands of many of us presidents, each handling their own corner of the Philippines. Sad as Ondoy may have been, it showed in no uncertain terms and in graphic detail that there is no longer one big ship that will pass by and save all 90 million of us. The only dynamic that will work is for many many many small boats to set sail, each carrying 29 people at a time, 100 people at a time, 3,000 at a time, led by enlightened and selfless boy scouts, salesmen, point-guards and yes, businessmen. And I feel humbled to be given the opportunity to lead one of these small boats.

Come to think of it, dreams do come true. Sometimes, just not in the way or form or context that we originally imagined as children.