About that Nasty, Dangerous Stuff that Starts with L

My reputation precedes me, and apparently, my reputation isn't as sun-shiny as I would like to think.  Shattershards shatter more than just shards, it seems.  I'm unfamiliar with the topic at hand, so I will try to modify this rant through words that are familiar to me.


I have always maintained that I choose not to engage in the business.  It is much too cumbersome and complex, and it isn't a prerequisite to anything after all.  Friends, family and officemates alike have at one time or another asked me about my business, or lack thereof.  They cannot believe that at my age, I have not once tried to engage in business.  I'm a non-entrepreneur since birth.


Going into business isn't an easy task.  You engage in it, not only for yourself, but for the public.  Regulatory boards abound, and they require periodic reporting of the results of operation.  The SEC requires that you report annual figures; quarterly figures, if you're publicly listed.  As such, everybody would know if you're operations are favorable or unfavorable, and everybody would have an opinion as to your business endeavors.


Engaging in business also increases your tax exposure.  While the SEC requires quarterly reporting at most, the BIR demands that you report monthly.  Whether your business is earning or is at a loss, the BIR computes for the taxes you have to pay.  Remit too much and you are bound to encounter cashflow problems, remit too little and you may be accused of under-reporting or even tax evasion.


Every business, at its core, is a selling business; it is a marketing engagement.  The entrepreneurs attempt to market their goods to potential buyers.  You can position yourself at the low end to cater to the mass market, or you can improve on quality and target a selected niche.  Either way, the object is to be able to sell your goods.  But I choose not to sell.  It isn't a question of marketability or low product quality, it's a conscious decision not to play the market.


Unfortunately, there are some with considerable capacity to buy and they insist on purchasing that which isn't for sale.  They ultimately get disappointed because no transactions are intimated.  Why blame the seller when there isn't any seller in the first place; when there aren't any products for sale at the start?  Am I to blame for their broken engagements when there wasn't any contract to begin with?  Just because there was a display doesn't mean there are items for sale.  


I do not wish to hear what the rumors say about me, but my habit of knowing stuff nags at me.  Thus I remind myself of this saying:  Caveat Emptor.

Pressures

I'm feeling a little bit pressured right now.

The company has decided to finally migrate to a new accounting system to ease our financial reporting.  The current system in place, though workable, is ill-equipped to handle the volume of work at hand.  It is also limited in its capacity that it forces us to render manual computations to be entered into the books.  Switching therefore, would be beneficial in the long run.

But migration does not happen instantly, nor does the transition run smoothly.  Like all changes, you are bound to experience "birthing pains" during the transition.  These are inevitable; you cannot prevent it, only prepare for it.  Part of the transitions we will face include the forming of several of the staff to form part of the competence team.  These employees will be pulled out of their normal works to study and create the new system that will be put in place.  Starting next month, until the system goes online by December, they will eat and breathe the new system.  They will build and study the new system to ensure that there are no glitches.  

I envy them.  Not because they will pulled out from work, but because they will learn a new system. I have always been open to new learning.  I always maintain that it is my habit to know stuff, and this stuff is huge!  Those competent in SAP are marketable.  Very marketable.

Here now lies the dilemma:  whenever people are pulled out from their current work, those who remain will have to shoulder the work left behind.  I have been informally assigned the work currently done by our assistant manager.  Even now, some officemates are starting to call me "manager" or "sir", pertaining to the task that will be assigned to me.

I can jive with officemates, though I'm not too close to them.  I fear my new function will cause me to be ostracized from them.  Even with my current function, I get to interact with the various department heads more than my peers; the new function may cause more rifts in our interaction.

I went out of the office with this perceived problem in mind.  My paranoia has once again caused me to feel troubled.

And when I am troubled like this, I go to the bookstore.

Like most people, I address my problems with some retail therapy.  Unlike most people, I don't shop for clothes or gadgets.  I shop for books.  I get a sense of calm and euphoria by being in the bookstore in the same vein that some people feel elated inside a shoe store.  The smell of newly minted books in their crisp bindings provide for me a wonderful sense of contentment.  The sound of pages turned excites me with their promise of new adventures to experience.  The purchase of the book fills me with fulfillment I rarely feel with other activities.  And wrapping it in thick plastic provides me a sense of control.  I am a bibliophile and I am not ashamed.

ArchEnemy, the finale to the Looking Glass Wars trilogy, is the final installment to Frank Beddor's re-imagination of the story of Alice in Wonderland.  The deck of cards and the Queen of Hearts is still there, only more sinister, and more interesting.  I've never really read the original Alice story, and I fear I may not enjoy it after reading Alyss' story, but with the trilogy complete, I just might give it a try.

On a side note, I discovered I can have my book purchases wrapped in plastic at Fully Booked, although their wrapping process pale in comparison to my own.  After I finish this book, I will have to redo the wrapping;  I had to force myself not to cringe when I saw the attendant use scotch tape.  Ugh!