The most important interview

It was in May, 32 years ago when I left the Philippines for Los Angeles, California. I was 28 years old then, single, full of life and seemingly ready to tackle what America could dish out for me.

The plane landed in LAX (Los Angeles International Airport) on time. Right there, close by the passenger tube was my mom and my siblings. Hugs and kisses were exchanged. “Kumusta ang Pinas?” my brother J.R. asked. “Ayun, ganun pa rin”, I quickly replied. Perhaps my arrival was made more meaningful by the fact that I was the youngest in our family and was the last one to get out of the country.

We then proceeded to my brother Gil’s house in Long Beach where I chose to stay. My cousins and other relatives were there. More hugs and kisses. The laughter continued. Food was aplenty and drinks overflowed. Good life, good food, “Where else but in America?”  I teased myself. That night I made a solemn vow: Cut my path to a decent success then help my kababayans whenever possible. Twenty-seven years later, I knew I was wrong. 

"Always say yes"

My first job was as accounts receivable clerk in a fertilizer company. I can still remember J.R.’s advice: “In your job interview tell them you’ve done this, you’ve done that. Always say yes. So long as you do well in your job, they’ll never kick you out.”

It was a Monday, my second full day in the States. I was left alone in the house with my mom. I scanned the classified ads, made several phone calls and luckily earned a job interview. I was supposed to meet the head of the accounting department. The formal introductions and the ritualistic “how are you’s?” set the tone for the interview. I settled down, remained focused and got ready. Mother of all surprises, the very first question from my prospective boss’ mouth was, “Can you speak Spanish?” I was aghast and at the same time furious. Could this be job related? How in the world would this kind of question pop up? The only Spanish I knew was 21 units worth in college, not to mention reciting Mi Ultimo Adios by heart. I quickly recovered though. I remembered my brother’s advice, “Always say yes.”  In a matter-of- factly voice, I gambled… “yes.”  It worked like a gem, I landed the job. Four months down the road, I was called to interpret for a Latino. I didn’t know what to do, I had to think fast. Then it rang like a bell, “They won’t let you go.” Thus I declined with respect and explained that my Spanish needed some polishing. They understood. I must be doing a good job, I thought.

Having the 'yes' attitude

Five months went by and I was off to another interview, this time as a junior accountant. Armed with local experience, I knew it would be smooth sailing. As expected, I clinched the job and was off to success. Before long, another vacancy occurred. This time it was a senior accountant position. “Should I go for it?” I asked myself. The fire in my belly was still there so I did. But this was no cakewalk. There were two insider applicants, the credit department supervisor and myself.  She was Caucasian, smart and with over four years of experience with the company. I was a Filipino, ambitious with less than a year in my job but I knew my numbers as well.  Difficult questions, mostly accounting stuff, followed.  We were neck-and-neck, I was told, until the final question:  “Explain the difference between book depreciation and tax depreciation.”  I bested her here and got the job. A couple of weeks later, the supervisor resigned. Rumor has it that she can’t get over the fact that a fair-skinned Filipino was hired over an American, a native Californian at that. I quietly admired the display of impartiality by the management.

When opportunity knocks, grab it by all means. And that’s exactly what I did.  I continued to climb my own ladder. I progressively became cost accounting manager and am a corporate controller in a manufacturing company. I still had the “yes” attitude in job interviews. So long as I was doing well in my work, I was okay.  Time to put the other half of my plan into motion.

In early 2000, I had a group of fraternity brothers who are all lawyers in the Philippines. Most of them are lawyers in the State of California, too. We kept in touch through e-mails and formed a group in Los Angeles. In one get-together I suggested that we help our folks who have legal problems in the Philippines pro bono. For example, there were those who wanted to buy/sell or redeem their property, petition their relatives, wanted a divorce, or had questions on inheritance.  It was met with unanimous approval.

News by mouth traveled fast in the Filipino community. In no time at all, my brods and I started advising kababayans. I had to give opinions and advice on legal issues, write affidavits, quitclaims, acknowledgments and other legal forms. The thought of helping made us all feel proud but it didn’t last long. Most of us got extremely busy and couldn’t find time anymore. At this stage, a bulb lit in my head: Why not run for city mayor?

The biggest interview

Two years later, I was running against the incumbent and two other candidates for mayoral position. That was in 2005.  Registered Filipino voters were overwhelming in the City of Carson. In my estimation I had a good shot at the job if I could rally the Filipinos to my cause. I organized my team. My sisters Gloria, Mary and Elaine were the food brigades. They had to make sure that the campaign headquarters was well stocked with food, coffee and beverages. My brother Gil was my point man with various religious organizations where I could drop by, shake some hands and deliver a short speech after the service. Our eldest, J.R. was the finance guy and of course, my fraternity brods manned the phone banks. Brod Andy was the official spokesman and media liaison, Jimmy was my legal counsel and campaign manager, Gelly, my think tank leader and strategist. My brothers-in-law June and Walay saw to it that my streamers and placards were strategically placed all over the city. Business cards and fliers were printed. It was time to hit the road.

Jimmy got me an appointment with one of the biggest Filipino organizations in the city. It was a dinner with the officers and some members of the association. After the exchange of pleasantries, we got down to business. 

Q:        Ba’t gusto mong mag-mayor?

A:         Gusto ko lang makatulong lalo na sa kababayan.

Q:        Ba’t may pinag-aralan ka ba?  Kuwalipikado ka ba?

A:         Nakatapos naman at saka nakakaintindi nang konti tungkol sa gobyerno.

Q:        Mag-konsehal ka na lang, hindi yung mayor agad.  Hindi ka pa naman kilala.

A:         Sa tingin ko hindi na kailangan yun kung maganda ang hangarin mo.

Q:        Sa totoo lang magastos ang tumakbo, may pera ka ba?  May bahay ka na ba?

The meeting was quickly becoming confrontational. They obviously came with an agenda. They wanted to discourage me from running. Why? I found out they were supporting the incumbent mayor because of a long and beneficial relationship. What a display of “crab mentality,” I thought. Somehow it looked like Filipinos are competing to pull down each other.  Which reminded me: in the parking lot, after church I overheard two Filipinos talking. “Pare kumusta na?” said one. “Eto mabuti”, answered the other. “Ilan na ang bahay mo, ano’ng kotse mo ngayon?” 

That’s uncalled for, especially after church, I said to myself. In disgust, I asked my wife Lucy, “Do material things make people swell-headed?”

There was that one incident where a Filipino stormed my headquarters and ripped off my campaign materials. I was close to suing the guy but cooler heads prevailed. It appeared that he was an appointee of the mayor in a non-paying job.  On another occasion, somebody called me at home and strongly urged me to withdraw. “Umatras ka na,” he said. “Kumpare ko yung mayor.”  At this point I had to ask myself: How does one equate prestige with humility? Apparently, some cannot.

And so it went, after 27 years. I failed the final interview on a job I wanted most. I failed to convince the skeptics whom I counted for support. I failed to recognize that values could change in an adopted country’s culture and way of life. The gem has lost its luster; it was time to move on. Ah, where else but in America!

Cesar Crisostomo works as a corporate controller in a manufacturing firm in California.