I got acquainted with our neighborhood 招财猫 (fortune cat) Chi Che a few months ago. She’s a young adult cat who lingers around our shared spaces. If you are not familiar with the concept of a 招财猫, let me briefly explain it. In Chinoy belief, if a cat decides to adopt you or marks your place as its territory, do not turn the cat away. The cat is considered a living good luck symbol.
Driven by my typical ENTJ ethos, I took it upon myself to have Chi Che spayed. My decision was logic-driven. By having her spayed, she wouldn’t get pregnant again; this would lessen her chances of getting sick or dying early. In my heart of hearts, I meant well; I wanted to do good by Chi Che.
However, things did not go as planned. Right after the spaying, I was negligent of her aftercare. I thought she would get by on her own, but after eight days, her wound reopened. I had to take her back to vet and spend more than the equivalent amount of money I did on her original procedure.
Days after that, I couldn’t forgive myself. I was angry that I wasted money because of my wrong behavior. But deeper than that, I was intensely upset because I did not have full control of the situation. I have had cats spayed before, but I guess every cat and its circumstances in spaying are different. The previous cat I got spayed was a shy, nervous house cat. She healed okay with a minimum amount of care. But Chi Che is different. She’s frisky and runs around all the time with her stray cat boyfriend Jack. And so the inevitable happened. Since I did not want her to die, I had to have her restitched and pay for what I did.
Looking at it now, I can draw some parallels between what happened with Chi Che and my career adventures. I recently faced a crossroads, choosing between a job I knew (stable and secure) and a job that could open up new possibilities. Option A was sticking with my role as a writer-editor for a Knowledge Process Outsourcing (KPO) firm, while Option B was becoming a corporate psychologist for a local company.
To help me navigate the situation and the confusion that it caused, I made a decision tree. At that time, there was an internal job promotion available with the KPO, and if promoted, I would become Team Manager. I figured that if I did not get the promotion, I would seek growth elsewhere. I would choose Option B because wellness is my thing. As a licensed psychologist, I see practicing psychology in the corporate realm as my specialization and long-term career track.
After one month of waiting, there were two outcomes: I was not promoted. Soon after the official announcement, I finally received a job offer in black and white for the corporate psychologist position.
I tendered my resignation with the KPO the following day and signed the job offer for the local company quickly afterward.
When a senior member of the KPO got wind of my resignation, she scheduled a meeting. She got on a video call with me and in short, I was convinced to stay.
Yes, I did a 180! I bucked the prevailing advice not to accept a counteroffer and instead followed my guts. Because the KPO was my first choice anyway. More than adventure, stability and security are what I crave.
As part of the agreement to stay, I would be promoted to the position I applied for, with an additional hyphen in the title: Team Manager – Wellness Lead. At this point, I would like to emphasize one thing: when I left, I felt that my hand was forced. Leaving the KPO was painful as I have already established my roots (I’m a regularized employee). All I wanted was a place to flourish. I didn’t want to stagnate in a dark corner like some godforsaken lily in the production pool.
When I called to inform the person who hired me for the local company, I was expecting hard feelings. But I was surprised; he didn’t seem upset at all that I rescinded the offer. His actual words when I told him about the counteroffer were, “Take it, it will be good for your career.”
I’m so lucky. Anyway, that door isn’t closed. There’s still potential for psychology-related work with him during my spare time, perhaps as a guest speaker.
You could say that ultimately, I walked away with the best outcome. Now that the dust has settled, the similarities between what happened with Chi Che and what happened with the KPO have dawned on me. Assumptions played a role in both situations. With Chi Che, I assumed a smooth recovery, forgetting that she’s an untamed animal. Similarly, the KPO likely assumed I would just be Steady Eddie. They forgot about me and my dreams.
Ah, the messiness of living beings! This is indeed an ENTJ’s blind spot.
Sometimes, with my focus on efficiency and goals, I overlook the complexities of individuals and their unpredictable actions and emotions. Because of what I went through, I now have more empathy for my bosses. Regrettable events do happen, but the best course of action is to rectify the error and use the mistake as a valuable lesson.
And it’s a timely lesson indeed. Now that I’m a Team Manager, I’ll have to get used to dealing with people with all their volatility and spark. Both experiences have taught me that all of us are wildcats underneath. The passion and ambition, the unpredictability and decisiveness all come from the same place. And somehow, I have to channel that valuable energy. A praiseworthy leader is what I aspire to be.
The featured image on this blog was AI-generated by me using free tools, namely ChatGPT, Canva, and Leonardo AI. I use these images to support my written content creatively and cost-effectively.
