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Bottom Lines

Trung and I talk about our work often, as most good friends do. And what usually ends up happening is a dissection of the personalities that we both deal with in our lines of work.

Okay, it usually ends up with both of us getting drunk and then watching Midsomer Murders to yell about how much we miss Sgt. Troy, but the lead-up to that is always interesting.

One of our general themes has been to differentiate people by their bottom lines.

Despite the differences in web development and commercial plumbing, our conversations always boil down to this saying, which I think Trung really should trademark:

It’s not the job, it’s the people.

What is this person’s bottom line?

This almost always affects the outcome of the work and how many fistfights you are bound to have.

Money as Bottom Line

There are the old school folks, where the bottom line is money. There is absolutely nothing wrong with people being aware, or even prudent, about costs.

But in a sense (and based on past experiences), they are the ones who tend to reserve spending on materials or resources and almost always settle for “Good enough,” look at the end result, and however we all get there, the ends justify the means.

The bottom line is having enough resources at the very end, so that it can be spent on something else.

The tough thing, though, is when you start having awful conversations about reaching the bare minimum, and how it could also be possible to bring that standard even lower to save another $10.

I find that these people do tend to have more money, and that’s great. Because that’s their bottom line. They’re able to shell out for emergency dental work or send their kids off to boarding school. Damages that occur without home insurance could easily be paid for by the money that they saved from not getting it in the first place.

They spend more time on the same project. And maybe because they just have better focus. I really don’t know.

Convenience as Bottom Line

Then there are the Convenience as Bottom Line People, which I think I am definitely a subsect of.

I don’t think we are a particularly smart bunch, but I’ll be honest in saying that I have fewer regrets. It’s almost like I’ve spread out my stress over time, instead of collecting it all at the very end.

For this tribe, it’s more about freeing up certain resources to be able to focus on or achieve a goal. And if that means paying more for something, so be it.

And this doesn’t necessarily equate to just money or expenses. To me at least, the bottom line question is:

What is your time worth?

I would rather invest in a $1000 tool that saves me 6 hours of work than use a hand-crank or screwdriver.

I would rather pay someone to paint the apartment in a day than spending two weeks stepping in plastic dropcloths and shit, doing it on my own, and getting really shitty results. I’ve had experience with painting spaces before, and while I do consider myself capable of doing this myself, I would much rather be doing something else. Like working my actual job.

I would rather share the job, make less profit, and get it done faster and more efficiently, instead of doing everything ourselves, stretching ourselves thin to deliver a kind of passable outcome.

Not to say one is better than the other

I find that at least in my conversations with Trung, this dichotomy of people exist like people who prefer showers over baths; people who eat the soup first before noodles; or people who really like Metallica or just think that they are self-centered babies because of that documentary.

There are downsides and upsides to being either type of person. I always concede with the knowledge that I will never become rich, but also comfort myself with the idea that at least I won’t spend 90% of my life being tired or sweaty or stressed out. All of the things I hate being.

I’m pretty comfortable with where I stand on this, and I have to admit also that I kind of enjoy talking about these differences with people.

To some extent, I also see it related to the type of people who either like super focused projects or those who like various things happening at once.

I’m Renovating My Apartment

“Here’s what you should do…” is probably one of those beginnings to sentences that will set me off and land me in a fistfight. I’ve come close a few times, especially with people I love the most, and we all deal with our triggers differently.

I’ve been thinking about this for a while, and I know it has and will be received with mixed reviews. I haven’t been very vocal about it because of this, but I’ve decided to do renovations on my apartment.

I get the impression that my friends think I’m wasting my money or that I just really hate my money or something. Why spend the money on a perfectly useable space? Your apartment isn’t leaking. It fits your things. Sure, some of that stuff is old, but it still works. Why bother?

“Here’s what you should do. Save your money for something else. Nobody cares about a new kitchen sink.”

Dudes, you know what? I care. A lot.

I work from home. It’s a happy joke that I am willing to play along with, but the truth is, I spend 23 hours a day on average in this apartment. I know every inch of this place by heart, and I do a lot to keep it well-maintained and loved.

I also come from a family and culture of people who love their homes. My family in Manila, we invest time and energy in our homes because it’s one of the most important things in our lives. It carries our memories and our eccentricities, physical manifestations of our habits and flaws. Our homes are a reflection of who we are. My family and I aren’t fucking nomads like the people who travel and find themselves and do whatever. I’m not Julia Roberts. I don’t do that Eat, Pray, Love shit.

Decorating and designing a home for me isn’t just a fun thing that lonely housewives or bored celebrities do. It reminds me of my mom a lot. She loved doing this shit as much as I do. I remember when she did a renovation on our first Manila house.

We had shirtless workers in and out of the house for weeks. Our shit was all over the place. I even remember being tasked with peeling off bits of wallpaper from the room I shared with my brother. She transformed this house that was originally a 1970s bungalow for a newlyweds into a family home for six.

And my sister, bless her, went slightly over-budget with renovating our new Manila house, but you know what? It’s fucking glorious. It’s a beautiful space that she worked hard to decorate, and when I saw it on my trip back, I was immediately comfortable. It was a decent house when we purchased it, but now it’s actually our home. And therein lies the difference.

She put in touches and details that considered my shirtless father (shutter blinds in his room and a full-wall built-in for his trinkets and collections) and my brother (large desk space for his computer work station and drawing area).

Our kitchen is now open and inviting, and makes you want to have breakfast with each other in the mornings. It overlooks the back yard where we can have our cousins over for BBQ’s and pool parties.

Now that I’m older, I feel like I’ve stepped into the same shoes, and our feet are the exact same size. Now that I’m actually able to accomplish this, I’m so excited to do it. If not just for the shirtless workers. But this is Canada. People here don’t work shirtless, unfortunately.

I’m not putting in a stripper pole in the middle of the room or adding an extension for a bowling alley. I’m just updating my apartment to how I’d like it to be. Sure, there are cheaper ways to do it, but I want to do it the proper way. You go spend time re-sanding and re-finishing that weirdo Craigslist tabletop with the gargoyle feet. I don’t give a shit.

Some people get new fancy cars or nose jobs, or they go travelling around the world to find themselves (again, Julia Roberts). Well, I don’t want a fucking Lexus, Trung thinks my nose is cute, and I hate flying.

This apartment helped me grow up and out of being a shitty baby from Emily Carr. It’s given me a wonderful place to appreciate Vancouver and all its fine points. It’s helped me host many dinner parties and family guests over the years. It’s a milestone that marks my responsibility and obligation, both financially and emotionally. It’s become mine.

This is something just for me, and I don’t think anybody has much of a right to tell me what I should do.

Mostly the Loss

A few major things to happen this year. Some have been painful, others have not. A few wins and a few losses, but if anything, it makes me all the more excited to get to 2015.

It’s a bit tough to talk about it, but my little cousin passed away late this year.

Well, he wasn’t little, but he was definitely young. Twenty-four is not a ripe age. It’s an age of potential and possibilities, of excitement and mistakes. It’s the age where you figure out most of what you are, and solidify any wavering judgements you may be too afraid to speak about as a kid.

You discover girls and deodorant in your teens. Then you discover hard work and sacrifice and love after that. Nobody was ready for Ivan to go. That boy is so fucking special, I’m not even exaggerating a little bit. He only got to taste that first little bit of adulthood, post-deodorant and acne cream. I still get a little angry when I think about it.

Death is a sobering experience, and it feels odd going through it almost seven years to the day my own mother passed.

The crazy thing is seeing it happen again, and feeling it now, where I am again, a little bit older and a little bit more sober. Once again, perspectives shift, realizations rear their heads, and for a brief moment, there is a crack in the realm and space where you exist.

It becomes a conversation between survival and sentiment. Especially when family is involved. While some petty things are let go, others become a means to cope. There were a lot of “Fuck this, I’m doing it” decisions made, and I regret none of them.

People are constantly evolving. And I don’t mean that in just a Darwinian sense. It’s not just the physical attributes you shed, like fingernails or exfoliated skin cells, but things like bitterness and greed. Granted, these exist like fucking barnacles on some people, but even everyday penchants and persuasions can change over time. Maybe that’s why Facebook loves their algorithms, snapshots of hours, days, years before. The same day this year. The same Bat-time and the same Bat-channel.

I went home twice in a month for Ivan. First to see him in hospital, and the second for his wake. And even in the span of those two weeks, I saw extraordinary transformations within the people I loved. From small gestures to grand ones, every little thing became definitive of who they were and are at that point in time. Tragedy, an ultimate test of character, sits front row and center, and there isn’t much to do but sit alongside it and watch things unfold. Your heart swells and breaks at the same time, as all these different pieces play into each other.

And once the currents die down, you pick up what’s left and try to make sense of it all. Things slowly start towards what normal could be, albeit a little redefined, and you start acting accordingly again. It’s a little awkward at first, mainly because you’re just so fucking tired. But slowly you get a sense of where things are. They are pretty much the same, but just maybe arranged a little differently.

AND THEN YOUR CAT DIES.

Ivan’s passing hit me pretty hard. But Hugo went a few weeks after that, and it just capped off the year with an immediate sense of, “FUCK THIS FUCK THIS IT DOESN’T MATTER I’M WEARING MOM JEANS AND EATING BONBONS ALL DAY.”

The post-Hugo stuff can be saved for another day. I don’t want to spill too much candy in the front lobby this early. But suffice it to say, I am really, really looking forward to 2015.