What Was My First Boss Like?

Arrogant, I thought.  

He looked me over and asked, “Have you done any writing?” 

I had written for the Philippine Collegian in college (the UP student publication) and before this interview, many of my feature stories had been published in the US, where I was taking up my degree in Performing Arts (Chicago Art institute). 

My thought balloon, If you don’t hire me, then it’s your loss, not mine.  

It was the year 1968 when the Board of Directors of the Chicago Filipino-American organization had handpicked him to be the Editor-in-Chief of the first-ever Filipino newspaper in the city. A graduate of journalism from the UST, with impressive writing/editing credentials, he was deemed most qualified.

My uncle and his wife (an American), who knew about my love for writing, suggested my name to be in the editorial staff. That was why the Chief summoned me to that first editorial meeting, where he decreed in no uncertain terms who was the boss, outlining his vision and policies.

I remember that day well. Snow and wind blew, pummeling downtown Chicago relentlessly. Because buses and cabs were sparse, he volunteered to drive me home in a rickety, old car borrowed from a friend. 

His conversation starter was, “Do you know where I work?”

“Where?” I mumbled, to be polite. 

“J. Walter Thompson.” (It was then the world’s largest advertising agency.) 

Clueless, I asked, “What’s that?”

He rattled off statistics, meant to shock and awe.

I yawned, “Oh.” As a starving art student, advertising agencies were the least of my concerns. I whispered, Bring it on!   

Our first issue had to cover the biggest Filipino event in Chicago—Rizal Day, December 30. It was a formal affair and since I was along his route, he picked me up. My aunt answered the doorbell and there he stood in his rented tuxedo. 

She asked him, “Where’s the corsage?” (No matter how many times I had explained that corsage was unnecessary since it wasn’t a date, she wouldn’t hear of it.)  

From that day on, whenever she read Ang Balita (The News), our chosen name for the newspaper, she would grumble, “I won’t give you two cents for that jerk! He thinks he is god almighty.” 

That man’s working style? He minced no words. 

“Rewrite, make it interesting.”  

“Too repetitive.” 

“Give it an angle.” 

“It is not focused.” 

After 10 issues (every fortnight), the Chief came back home to the Philippines, for good. One year and seven months after that first meet-up, I came back home as well, for good. 

In another month, I married the Chief, Mr. Arrogance himself, my first boss—and Ang Balita, where I first worked, became a part of history. 

What happened between our first meeting and our wedding? 

Love. 

But that has nothing to do with “What Was Your First Boss Like?”    

(This article was originally published in StoryWorth early this year.)