Loyalty
I like going into an establishment and seeing familiar faces sometimes from way back in my youth. I see them, for example, in Unimart, one of the first supermarkets in San Juan where I’ve lived almost all my life.
Employees who stay on for years usually reflect well on the establishment, suggesting a good relationship between management and labor. But they will have a mix of reasons or motivations. A perceived fair wage is primary, “fair” being more than quantitative. I know many people who have spurned offers from other companies, including from overseas, offering much better wages; they stay because they want to be in the Philippines with their family, or because they find fulfillment in their work. Others will even cite love of country for not going overseas.
It’s not just a matter of wages but also of benefits: provision for overtime, bonuses, health insurance. Some companies, the larger ones, provide subsidies for their employees’ housing and schooling. But an employee’s sense that there’s room for advancement is important. Even the most generous of benefit packages will not serve to keep people if they perceive the workplace to be filled with intrigues and backroom dealings, or if they have to bear with oppressive supervisors.
Social capital
Job longevity is important for a company, mainly in terms of building up social capital (or knowledge and skills being passed on). Many of our hospitals lack this social capital with nursing sections because of the rapid turnover, the nurses leaving for jobs overseas. New recruits will find themselves without mentors who pass on not only skills but also accumulated experiences which they won’t get in textbooks or classrooms.
Social capital also includes institutional memory: why the company was set up, what its values are.
Social capital builds a sense of belonging, of collective identity… and of loyalty. I don’t mean blind loyalty but the Filipino katapatan, a sense of fitting in, of strong affiliation, even of love for the organization. Katapatan, after all, comes closer to the sense of dedication and fidelity, the vow people take when they marry. Fidelity forever. Smile.
I thought about all this during this year’s “Gawad Paglilingkod” (service awards) ceremonies at the University of the Philippines Diliman for our retirees. The service awards are for those who have served UP Diliman for at least 40 years, and include a plaque and a fairly substantial cash gift.
We had 61 service awardees this year, and they were called to the stage in alphabetical order, regardless of whether they were faculty members, staff, or REPS (research, extension and professional staff). I thought of the important symbolism here: that no one sector is more important than the other.
Being an anthropologist, and also to fight off fatigue from standing so long on the stage giving out the awards, I conduct lightning interviews with some of the awardees when they come up to the stage. Let me share some of the information I got about their work.
When Florentino D. Convencido went up the stage, the LED screen flashing his name and office, the University Food Service, I asked what his work was. “Cook, po,” he answered and I followed up: “You cooked for 40 years?” He said, “Yes.”
Imagine cooking that long—40 years and 6 months, to be exact. Later, in my closing speech, I assured our retirees from the University Food Service that under a dynamic director, Prof. Mitzi Reyes, the UFS was on its way to restoring its past glory. Older alumni will remember its pastries, which we will be resurrecting soon—together with a rebranding of the UFS—as prestige pasalubong, gifts our students, faculty and staff can bring home from UP.
From my own College of Social Sciences and Philosophy, there was Rafael Esteves, “Mang Paeng,” who served 40 years and 7 months as a carpenter. As a former dean of that college, I had seen his work and wondered if there are still young carpenters willing to work for the university. All over UP, we do have work titles that will become obsolete soon. Handing the award to Mang Paeng, I thought, sadly, of the monobloc chairs and pressed plywood tables that had flooded our classrooms and laboratories.
There were three service awardees from the Cash Office: the director Leonila Balasbas, plus Cesar Janio and Carolina Javierto. The latter two I asked jokingly: “So for 40 years you counted cash?” Both laughed and said yes, but “Mang Cesar” qualified: “Pera ng iba” (Other people’s money). Later, over snacks, I reminded people at my table about how tedious the counting of cash was in a pre-ATM era, when salaries were paid in cash, with bills and coins counted out to the last centavo. The coins were wrapped in paper.
Love of work
From my own office, there’s Emelda Guverra who served all the chancellors of UP Diliman, “womanning” the front desk and dealing with thousands of visitors, with the overwhelming majority offering legitimate reasons to see the chancellor, including just saying hello. But the difficult ones were, well, difficult, and Emy would manage them.
Also from my office was Romeo Rualo, who started working at the College of Engineering at the age of 18, working so well that the first chancellor of UP Diliman, Engineer Tabujara, brought him along to the newly created office, where he continues to work.
I want to mention Elvira Silarde, who has been a librarian for 41 years. Last year, when I was told of an unfinished project on the history of UP, I was referred to her because she was in the archives section. She showed me the boxes with the manuscripts and I said I needed to look for funds to continue the project. A month later, when I visited again, she had started copyediting the manuscripts. There was no formal project yet then, no funds.
All for the love of the work, of UP, maybe even of the country whose name we bear. The work can take its toll: Some of the awards for retirees were given posthumously. Several—as I could tell from their limping, or their facial expression—were stroke survivors. One came up and as she stretched out her arms I knew she was on dialysis.
In the government we retire at 65. If Romy Rualo stays on till he retires, he would have served 47 years.
Now that’s katapatan.
