as of today, i am officially unemployed.

no more mornings spent in a half-conscious scramble to look presentable, with only morning cartoons to keep me coherent. no more clocking in, clocking out, and all the endless hours in between. no more grill blisters, freezer burns, and busted heads. no more too-short breaks, miscalculated checks, and empty chit-chat with co-workers. no more. finally.

but really, working in a mcdonald's wasn't all that bad. there is the part of working which includes getting compensation, which turned out becoming quite stressful because the pay system wasn't that organized, but at least you still get paid. you find out what actually goes into your fast food, and if you're lucky (as i was), it might be enough to deter you from even looking at a burger ever again. the new skills never hurt, though you might be hard-pressed to find another line of work where sandwich assembly or grill operations would come in handy.

there also comes the rude awakening you get when you're suddenly thrust into the real world, and left there either to fall down and fail, or to fend for yourself. in the real world, nothing you know really comes in handy. you're mixed in with all sorts of people, not the usual intellectual bunch or whatever crowd you're used to, but you have to learn to roll with it. if you're lucky, you'd have a friend or two along, but mostly no one will be there to look out for you. there's no place for emotional outbursts or momentary weakness; all that matters is getting the job done. and if, despite all these obstacles, you can get the job well done, all the better for you.

i was fortunate enough to find my niche in the fast food world; i took to the grill like a fish takes to water, or a bird takes to the sky. sure, i found something i was good at, something that made me valuable to the team even if i wasn't exactly a perfect fit in their kitchen culture. but despite all the compliments, the flattery, the working-without-you-yesterday-was-hell comments, the whole experience still felt a bit empty to me. not that i didn't feel gratified by all the praise and recognition from my fellow crew members, but what about the acknowledgment from the most important critic: myself? myke recently made an entry about success and the frustration it causes when we fall short of our target. but what about the frustration of being successful, being good at something, but knowing that there's something better you could've aspired to, something else you were meant to do? a lot of people live their lives until they experience some form of achievement, and finding that point, will simply rest on their laurels. time passes in that euphoria of success until they find themselves again, and realize that that success was only superficial, and not the true success they had originally been striving for. but by then, they could never seek this alternate destiny, at the risk of losing what they already enjoy.

i don't know whether this feeling was just an outlet of my boredom, or the embodiment of the knowledge that as a college student, a blue-collar job wasn't exactly the position for me. or maybe, it was because i just thought that i was too good for what i was doing, that i deserved much better for myself. but regardless, the five weeks quickly deteriorated from an adrenaline rush to a daily chore i had to force myself through. and when the end finally came, i couldn't have been more happier. happy of the fact that that part of my life was over for now, and that i would be returning to where i really belonged: on the road to becoming an m.d.

and this is probably the most important part of my entire working experience: the realization that i would never be happy and content with my life if i didn't become a doctor. childhood dreams aside, i really feel that this is my calling, that this is what God intended me to do with my life. i could spend my whole life expertly flipping burgers, perhaps getting a promotion and climbing up the corporate ladder, maybe even reaching the top of the heap. but all that would be hollow, being deprived of the passion and fulfillment i derive from (thinking about) being a physician. forget about earning good money and living comfortably; i'd give up any and all of that to suffer through med school, working my ass off for a cause i believe in, a goal i take pride in.

mcdonald's won't be getting a top-rate grill man, but if the world can score even just a second-class doctor, i'd still be a success.