It’s heartbreaking to recall the day that I lost my job at the bank. I was working in a Rural Bank, a small community banking institution that catered to the financial needs of small sugarcane planters and businessmen. The bank also kept savings accounts of workers, government employees, and others. The owner of the bank was a coffee tycoon in Batangas. A college instructor and a newspaper man ran the bank.
I handled the loan processing and rediscounting of the bank. I prepared the loan documents for every borrower. I processed the commercial and industrial loans. I also did the supervised agricultural loans of small farmers. It was my routine job from Monday to Friday. I sometimes went out to collect repayment of delinquent loans.
I always came home late. I didn’t go home at the close of business because I had to complete the borrowers’ paperwork for the next day’s loan releases. Nevertheless, I never heard my wife complain. At that time, we had two children. We were living in my parent’s house, and I also supported my old parents. My father was a retired government employee. He was receiving a meagre monthly salary. My mother was a housewife and did a little housekeeping work. We were six in the house, all depending on my salary.
After working in the bank for 5 years, the challenging moment in my life arrived.
I worked hard for the bank and when I worked overtime, I didn’t charge for my additional time. I offered my services for free. It so happened that the owner knew about that, so he paid me in full for the overtime hours I had rendered over the previous year. I received much money every December aside from my Christmas bonus and 13-month pay. This created jealousy on the part of the bank’s bookkeeper. She began to dream up things which I hadn’t done, to bring me down to the management.
I couldn’t sustain the professional jealousy anymore, so I finally decided to tender my resignation to the bank’s manager. I wanted to leave the bank for good. I was 29 years at that time. I gave my letter of resignation to the manager. He received it and assured me to help me find a better job in the sugarcane mill in our area. I went home and told my wife about it. She worried that I may not able to support the family. My father’s small pension was not enough for us six in the family. I thought that over. My pride and my impulse had caused me to do make a hasty decision to resign from my work.
I prayed about it and decided to retract my resignation. It was Saturday when I went to the manager’s office in Bacolod, the capital city. He was also the manager of a taxi company that belonged to the bank’s owner. I arrived, carrying a Bible in my hand. The manager and I talked for less than an hour. In the end, he didn’t accept my retraction of my resignation. I went home crestfallen. What a heartbreaking experience I’d had!
I arrived home to find my son and daughter sleeping together sick. They both had high fevers. I worried about them, as I wasn’t sure when I could get a new job. I told my wife everything and she hugged me tight with tears in her eyes. She assured me that God had a better plan for me.
On Monday morning, the bank’s messenger knocked on our door. He told me that I had some money from the bank. He said I was lucky that the bank’s owner was paying me my separation pay. I wasn’t supposed to receive for I had tendered my resignation and not been dismissed by the bank. Well, I went to the bank and received the money from the bank’s teller, who is the daughter of the owner.
This happened in 1980. After I left the bank, I found a job with the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. I was the Church custodian for 11 years.
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