Once I had a dream of earning big by turning all my energies to running a business. It was an ambitious goal, whose beginnings I could not even recall. The drive urged me to choose Salesmanship as my elective in high school. Though it wasn't as cool or prestigious like the other electives like Bookkeeping and Stenography, I knew how practical the applications were of the subject my heart would like to take.
During enrollment, some of my classmates-to-be shed tears after learning that they were banished among the dregs. You see, Salesmanship had a very bad rep in our high school. There was this age-old myth propagated by the teachers that those being thrown there ends up being corrupted by its below-average majority.
"Kaya kung ayaw niyong maging kalawang sa high school, wag na wag kayong pupunta sa Sales!" our teacher in second year sternly warned.
With the intense drive to be an achiever, to be associated with the academically-challenged compromised one's chances of being on top. However, when I learned that my application was granted, (yes, I was one of the brave kids who defied the myth and really applied for that elective) I ran from one end of the corridor to the other to joyfully announce my victory over the current order. Those chosen to represent the star sections would find my cause of celebration quite silly (for they double-think that I'm not just a loser, I even validated it) but there I was, giddy and excited for the school year that was to come.
During enrollment, some of my classmates-to-be shed tears after learning that they were banished among the dregs. You see, Salesmanship had a very bad rep in our high school. There was this age-old myth propagated by the teachers that those being thrown there ends up being corrupted by its below-average majority.
"Kaya kung ayaw niyong maging kalawang sa high school, wag na wag kayong pupunta sa Sales!" our teacher in second year sternly warned.
With the intense drive to be an achiever, to be associated with the academically-challenged compromised one's chances of being on top. However, when I learned that my application was granted, (yes, I was one of the brave kids who defied the myth and really applied for that elective) I ran from one end of the corridor to the other to joyfully announce my victory over the current order. Those chosen to represent the star sections would find my cause of celebration quite silly (for they double-think that I'm not just a loser, I even validated it) but there I was, giddy and excited for the school year that was to come.
Flash forward two years later. In the elective subject known to us as Marketing, we learned to understand and respect market forces and harness them to our own needs. We may not have the physics, chemistry and algebra geniuses of the other sections, but our combined wealth, selling experience and delinquent influence among the better students gave us the leverage to sway them to our side. We embraced the principles - point by point - of Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs. We immersed ourselves to companies big and small in hopes of understanding their operations (where I had to do a term paper alone after standing against my group who did nothing during my one-on-one interview with an export company, then suggesting that we should do a report on San Miguel instead) And finally, instead of wasting our time doing high school kids do (falling in love - less, getting vain with our looks and get-ups - less and making all those pa-cute things just to get noticed - less) we sold anything (including those cutesy and rosy stationary pads used to writing love letters) to anyone just to apply what we learned in class.
The year before, we sold snacks, chips and candies to the entire high school department through our little sari-sari store outside the classroom for a project; we provided the star sections ideas on how to make money instead of spending their leisure time pursuing their geeky or vanity passions; and finally, we let them use our classroom to play Magic Cards (and spare them from embarrassment of getting caught doing a violation in their untainted corners) provided that they will support and patronize any money-generating enterprise the best of us could come up with.
Such was the life we had in the final years of my high school. I do not know if anyone from the class did really set their eyes to achieving our money-generating dreams, but now that it is all coming back, I remember, once there was a teen, and his stepping stone to getting acquainted with real-life marketing was to become a salesclerk. There, at Manila COD in Cubao did he learn to assist customers from all walks of life, swipe credit cards and record invoices, and slip his feet in someone else's shoes to become the person who takes his inquiries and orders, now that he's the one who lets others swipe his card whenever he purchases at a department store.
His older reveries echo through mine and now that I am coming up with a serious distraction to counter my economic insurgencies, his thoughts and optimism, I hope, will drown any hesitation for pushing on with my new-found life alterations.
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The year before, we sold snacks, chips and candies to the entire high school department through our little sari-sari store outside the classroom for a project; we provided the star sections ideas on how to make money instead of spending their leisure time pursuing their geeky or vanity passions; and finally, we let them use our classroom to play Magic Cards (and spare them from embarrassment of getting caught doing a violation in their untainted corners) provided that they will support and patronize any money-generating enterprise the best of us could come up with.
Such was the life we had in the final years of my high school. I do not know if anyone from the class did really set their eyes to achieving our money-generating dreams, but now that it is all coming back, I remember, once there was a teen, and his stepping stone to getting acquainted with real-life marketing was to become a salesclerk. There, at Manila COD in Cubao did he learn to assist customers from all walks of life, swipe credit cards and record invoices, and slip his feet in someone else's shoes to become the person who takes his inquiries and orders, now that he's the one who lets others swipe his card whenever he purchases at a department store.
His older reveries echo through mine and now that I am coming up with a serious distraction to counter my economic insurgencies, his thoughts and optimism, I hope, will drown any hesitation for pushing on with my new-found life alterations.
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