It has long since been clear to me, even before my inception into the vocation of construction (no matter how insignificant my role is in that noble trade), that there would unavoidably be little room for professional growth nor any opportunity for expeditious prosperity (except perhaps if I were the very owner of the structure I am taking part in building). I have no hopes whatsoever, nor even an ambition, to rise beyond the office of timekeeper/labourer. I have too much pride, an inclination of one who has spent years of his life devoted to education, of which not even some months of toiling covered in dirt and grime and exposed to the harsh treatment of the elements could completely eliminate from my being. Notwithstanding my gratitude for having an employment with ample compensation—I could say, not without shame, that this trade is undeniably not for me. No, I can achieve more than just watching a damnable clock and hauling sacks of cement upon my back.

It was my objective from the very beginning to accept the offer in order to provide myself with the means of procuring much-needed funds to bring a pre-conceived 'plan' into realization. As previously intimated, I am at present vehemently harbouring a feeling of utter dejection and disgust for anything that has to do with 'nursing'—a feeling brought about by an annoying succession of misfortunes that wrought has havoc upon my dignity and self-respect as a professional)—not mentioning that, in the process, it has thrown me on the very verge (if not well within the dominion) of bankruptcy. I have given up nursing, at least for the moment—it is time for a change. Hence, a plan—primarily conceived to rescue myself from this mire of despair and poverty—by acquiring, as soon as possible, a stable employment that will provide me with a steady income, restore my demolished sense of worth, and grant me with much-yearned independence.

This 'plan' is very simple: go back to the city of Cebu and there find a dignified profession worthy of my—er—skills (if I indeed have anything left). Mind you, however, that it will be, in no way, connected with nursing nor any of the numerous fields of medicine. I have decided that I needed 'something' else. The 'where' was decided quite easily enough—it was the 'what' that has to be given a most careful consideration. I have a handful of choices and numerous preferences, however, I am not particular. I do need a job, after all—whatever it may be as long as it could satisfy my abject need of money. I have considerably narrowed down the fields, however, after a night of deliberation, without much difficulty. I then spent some time browsing the Internet (a place that has proven to be the unemployed's best friend) for open positions that fell within my criteria. After sending an application letter stating my eager interest for the jobs posted therein, and submitting my resume to the respective companies—it was only then an irksome matter of waiting for the employer's corresponding reply.

Ah, I usually loath waiting and I still do (especially when there is no need for it at all), however, I have learned that it is on some occasions unavoidable, at times even necessary, and is part, I guess, of most processes in this wretched world. Thus, I wait—for an email, a telephone call, perhaps a notification for a personal interview or something of the sort. In the meantime, I continue to perform my duties in the construction site, which makes the pain of waiting somewhat bearable, with an enthusiasm expected of someone who is eager and ready to leave. I did not have to wait much long, however, the much-awaited call came, just as I was beginning to become increasingly paranoid about its delay, summoning me for a 'job interview.' It was an instruction that needed no further entreaty nor repetition. I informed my employer of the necessity of my immediate departure and, before she had the chance of objecting, I was on the next available boat to the city of Cebu.