Small lessons that led to major results
Photo by Allef Vinicius on Unsplash
One unforgettable lesson, one nugget of wisdom, one story to bring it all.
In September 2021, I launched a personal project on LinkedIn to train myself in the art of storytelling.
For those among us who love numbers, I wrote 30 stories in 30 days, 8000+ words in total, and gained as much as 6000+ views with a follower count of less than 1000.
Other than these numbers, I gained something much more valuable—happiness. I realized that happiness comes in tiny spurts and mini-bites. When I wrote my post drafts, “happamine” kicked in. (Happamine is a wordplay of dopamine which is a product of the brain’s reward system. I borrowed the word from Mieko Kawakami’s novel “Heaven”.)
So…here they are again in a 3-part blog—a millennial accountant’s collection of musings, insights, and discoveries that will spur you to take courage, take action, and take one small step at a time toward overcoming a major struggle or in this case, activating your happamine.
From the small me—a 5-feet Asian accountant trying to find a space in a big, big world—I give you 30 mini accountant’s stories to gain you major happiness at work and in life.
Here is a personal motto which, you too, can embrace.
Start small. Think big. Be consistent.
1/30 I'm shiok!
“Always bring tissue when you’re eating at the hawker centers in Singapore,” a colleague told me several days before I was bound to leave my country for a short-term mobility assignment to Singapore.
“What for?” I asked.
“You need them to reserve tables.”
My colleague was referring to the act of “chope”. It’s a Singaporean practice of reserving tables before you go to the counter to order your food. As someone who rarely brings tissue with me before going out, I was mildly shocked by the idea of always bringing tissue for lunch. Aren’t we supposed to receive the tissues along with the meals?
Tissue or sans tissue, my first taste of Hainanese chicken rice was so “shiok” that hawker stalls became my frequent sources of comfort back in Singapore. Every lunch at Lau Pa Sat was an exercise of my taste buds for bak kut teh, laksa, Nasi Lemak, and satay.
When you go out to a country for the first time, you will be shocked by all the unfamiliarity and the difference—the sights, smells, and scents—all designed to drive an outsider away. But no matter how shocked you are, hold your ground and keep walking.
Explore. Experience. Eat.
The best way to a country’s heart is through its food.
2/30 Going concern issues
“I have a going concern issue,” someone told me at work one day. When you don’t work together with the same client and that someone approaches you with a going concern issue, it can only mean one thing.
Someone is quitting.
In accounting, going concern is an assumption that a business can operate indefinitely unless evidence proves otherwise. When a client has going concern issues, it’s always a cause for alarm among auditors.
When a colleague has going concerns issues, especially in the middle of the busy season, the alarm doubles.
But there’s nothing to be alarmed of.
“Going concern” are accountants’ code words for “I need help”, “I don’t feel happy anymore”, “I’m barely surviving”, “SOS”.
You talk and understand where the issue is coming from. Ask how you can help even if you’re not the right person. The last thing you can do is ignore and invalidate the cry for help.
3/30 A storm of words (a nice water reflection)
“Signal #2!” I would echo the news weather forecast.
Storms are quite frequent in the province where I grew up. Signal #2 means classes were suspended, at least until high school. For a child, storms are wanted distractions. For adults, storms mean work interruptions, heavy flooding, and bad traffic conditions.
Before the storm arrives, people would scramble to get their houses in order. They would lay old tires on the tin roofs, use logs to support walls, and cover glasses and mirrors.
During the storm, people would watch the wind and rain whiplash the coconuts. People silently bet on whether the trees can withstand the storm’s fury. The coconuts win.
If the storm comes at night, people do not sleep. They listen attentively to the wind’s howls. After the storm, people would somberly exchange news on whose house suffered the worst damage or whether there were casualties.
Adult or child, you do not fight a storm. You let the storm rage and rage around you until it’s done expressing its anger. After the storm subsides, you calmly deal with the aftermath.
Do the same when dealing with an angry person. Do not meet a storm of angry words with anger. Both of you will end up clashing.
4/30 Run for your life
“Run!” my brain shouted.
I quickened my pace, cut a diagonal line across the parking lot of a large shopping mall. I skipped on a loose cobble that splashed fresh rainwater on my shoes. I almost fell. But I got good reflexes. I hoisted my two heavy bags, one of them containing my laptop, and tried to keep my head up.
“Run!” Others were running beside me or rather, doing their best version of “running-skipping-fast walking”.
I’m sure we’re all going to be late for one thing or another. As for me, I’m going to be late for an important meeting. I’ve never been late before. I’ve always been an early riser, an early comer. I hate the morning rush, the need for catching up.
But on that day, perhaps it was the stress that finally wore me out. I woke up late. When your residence is a fifteen-minute car ride away from your workplace in Metro Manila, don’t ride anything if you’re trying to be on time. You’ll be stuck in traffic forever. You might as well walk or run.
My run saved me. I arrived with just enough time to freshen up and change to heels.
***
This was my morning exercise. Masking out the daily struggles and showing up. You do everything you can to keep the work that makes you alive. Run for your work. Run for your life.
5/30 The extra peso
Here’s a lesson on giving up.
“What do I do with the extra peso?” I asked my senior one late night while reviewing a client’s financials.
“You sink it,” the senior wisely advised.
Do not misinterpret “sink” as the physical me going to the restroom to dunk a peso coin into the toilet bowl.
“Sink” is an informal term when you want to make two figures balance but, you don’t quite know where the difference is coming from. Mostly, that difference is so small—1 peso (or dollar, or euro depending on your country) that the most practical thing to do is to make your other accounts, one peso higher or one peso lower. In short, you sink the missing or the extra.
Accountants do it most of the time. There is wisdom in not sweating the small stuff.
Sometimes, you become too overwhelmed with so many troubles that you treat everything with equal attention. As a result, you sink.
Just focus on the things that matter. Give up on the small ones before it eats you.
6/30 The last lesson
“Greet me ‘good morning’ for fifty times,” an elder teacher told me before she agreed to sign my high school clearance.
I understood why the teacher asked me to do that. In a culture that values respect for elders, you’re supposed to greet your teachers every time you meet them.
But for me? I was very shy. I mostly snubbed people. It wasn’t intentional. I just found it very hard to squeak out a peppy greeting early in the morning or at any other time.
After I finished reciting those fifty “good mornings”, I felt embarrassed and foolish.
I never forgot that teacher. Years later, I would still remember the lesson she imparted.
And no, it’s not about forcing yourself to be an extrovert when you’re an introvert.
It’s about the importance of “opening up”.
A greeting is a very good opening. It paves the way for small talk. It makes you nice and friendly.
In a world where everyone has gone cold and distant, nice and friendly break the ice.
The delivery of that last lesson was embarrassing but, the intention was honest and practical.
Who is your most memorable teacher? Thank him/her for the unforgettable lesson.
Photo by Alexander Solodukhin on Unsplash
7/30 Extreme fall
“Are you sure you want to do this?” it was an unvoiced question. A dare against myself.
But it was too late to back out. I took a seat and tried to be calm. Breathe in, breathe out.
Then, my seat rose steadily. How long was it? Five minutes? Ten minutes? That slow, steady climb didn’t even take more than a minute.
The view was quite nice from the top. Exhilarating. Freeing…
Until the plunge.
My stomach did a somersault. My seat landed and…it was over.
I just finished a 2-second drop from a 120-foot-high tower. The Extreme Tower was a thrill attraction in one of the local carnivals. I remember the build-up, the sense of anticipation, knowing what you’ve signed up for, being helpless to do something about it, and that uncomfortable feeling in your gut when the drop happens.
Every day that you show up for a challenging goal is like riding that Extreme Tower.
You’re asking yourself “Are you sure you want to do this?” knowing that there’s always that “fall”. You will fail, you will land where you started and most often, there are no safety straps in real life. But you go on anyway. What’s important is facing that fear.
After you’ve fallen, you’ll realize that it’s not so bad after all. You try for another thrill ride.
8/30 Atten-sion!
“Ahhhh-teeeen-sion!,” our platoon leader’s prolonged marching cry jolted me.
I tensed, made my body go rigid, consciously planted my feet 45 degrees apart, and stared straight ahead.
It was the annual military parade in our region, in celebration of a major festival. Under the heat of the sun or the lash of the rain, hundreds of schools join that parade in September. The students march to the tune of their school bands and prancing majorettes.
Between July to August, the most dedicated already start training in preparation for that lengthy parade. They hope that at the end of it all, they can earn their students some discipline, respect, and leadership, on top of winning some trophies and bragging rights.
My issue is not with the parade itself. My issue is the perception it gave me about being a leader.
The choice for the platoon leader always goes to the person with the loudest voice.
Hence, you can’t be a leader if you can’t shout.
Now, that’s no longer true. It is hard to make people march to your orders with voice alone. You must command attention in some other ways. While fear may make people pay attention to you, fear alone does not earn respect. You must learn to eliminate the “tension” within the “attention”.
9/30 Touch-me-not
Whenever I see mimosa pudica, I can’t resist the urge to touch it. The tiny, fern-like leaves will instantly fold and curl toward themselves. I would go on touching each leaf until all of them have folded.
If the plant kingdom is a company, the mimosa pudica is the most sensitive person in the room. The plant is also known as “makahiya” in our local language. Makahiya is rooted in the word “hiya” which means “shyness”.
But…do you know that the plant is capable of removing its shyness?
An Australian ecologist did a series of experiments that involved dropping the plant multiple times. At first, the plant folded as expected. After repeated descents, the plant stopped reacting and its leaves remained open.
If a plant can be taught to remove its shyness, why can’t we? We can teach our brains to stop being shy through repeated and intentional exposure. The good thing is, we don’t always need to show up in a physical space to be bold. When the world around us has literally folded and everyone has adopted a physical “touch-me-not” attitude, we can create a space for ourselves and use that space to show up.
Be bold. Take up space. Show-up.
10/30 The Matthew Effect and accountants*
A business owner went abroad and instructed her three accountants to manage her talents until her return. She gave five talents to the first accountant, two talents to the second accountant, and one talent to the third. Then, she left them to work on it.
When the business owner returned, she called back her three accountants and asked them, “What have you done with your talents?”
“I invested my talents and doubled it,” said the first accountant.
“I also invested my talents and doubled it,” said the second accountant.
The business owner praised and rewarded the two accountants. She turned to the last, raising one of her eyebrows. “And you?”
“I didn’t use my talent,” said the third one. “I was afraid I’d lose it so I kept it hidden.”
The business owner fired the third accountant.
***
Which one are you among the three accountants?
I hope you’re one of those investing your talents to make it grow. In the same way that you’ll invest money for the future, invest in your technical and soft skills to produce more technical and soft skills.
*Story inspired by the Parable of the Talents from the Book of Matthew
