Welcome to the Jungle

Three days in the jungles of Quezon. Sure they have hot showers, the buffet table always full, your choice of drinks, all the channels you could care to watch and 24-hour airconditioning in your own quarters, but still, it was jungle out there. On the third day, I found myself knee deep in a meandering stream watching out for snakes and buffalo crap. Yep, this was a jungle alright. A day after enduring the jungle, I still have mosquito bites the size of marshmallows on my legs. My trail shoes still stink of crap, and somehow the dirt underneath my nails don't seem to be going anywhere. Ahh the memories of crouching under the foliage, hearing unfamiliar bird sounds and almost falling face-first on a mound of shit about half a dozen times, I get a taste of my own filthy sweat trickling down my face and am loving every drop of it.

This is work, the kind that I signed up for and not the afternoon battle against falling asleep on my desk. On my first week on the job the big boss tells me I was going places, so after having gone down the deepest sewers and up the highest smoke stacks. Boy, he sure as hell nailed it that time.

Okay, you probably have the vaguest idea of what I do. Well, first and foremost, I am a salesman. I sell stuff that other people might or might not want or need or even think of before they see my pretty mug. No, I don't go knocking on your door, ringing on your bell or rapping on your window... nor do I jam my foot in your door or seduce your wives who you thoughtfully left at home. Most of the time I make calls, take calls and type up proposals that you may or may not approve of.

But then every once in a while, I get out of the office and go out for a drive. Sometimes I put on my best threads to meet the president of a company, just to give our company a face to go by and shake his or her hand. Conference rooms, hotel lobbies, corner offices, I've done them all. Then other times, I go out to tell a bunch of people about what we do, whipping out my laptop and projector and show them a fancy shmancy slide show that I prepared in thirty minutes. Conventions, seminars, board meetings, I can't count how many times I've gone in front of a crowd wondering if my fly was unzipped.

Then comes my favorite part of the job, not selling. It gets pretty busy in the office at times, and so every pair of hand counts, including my own. I make believe I'm a technician or an engineer or a chemist and go out in the field doing technical stuff like climbing up dangerously high chimneys, wade through plague-infested waters or crawl through sewers and drains. Or perhaps I've bitten off more than I can chew and have to be on the ground managing whatever catastrophe is bound to happen.

Funny how my job actually favors my attention deficit disorder, doing a lot of different things each day and switching from the boring to an extraordinary adventure each week. I guess I love my job, so even when the pay sucks or I am made to do things I don't like doing, I end up showing up every day. Anyway, it's just a matter of sucking it up and making the most of what you have, I guess.