(Business) school of hard knocks

published 28 Sept 2007

Several weeks ago, I wrote about changes introduced to the North Diversion Market and Development Corp. by its new breed of managers, second-generation Lacsamanas who took over from their father sometime in 2002.

The article focused on the new managers’ daunting task of establishing order and system into an otherwise chaotic “palengke” setting. They wanted to prove that a professional approach, albeit tempered, would work in the management of such a place.

As they saw, it was difficult, but it could be done.

The improved performance of the business, however, in terms of the increase in the number of tenants, was just half the battle. Officer-in-charge Cynthia Lacsamana-Africa said that they also wanted to make a difference in the lives of the people who comprised the palengke.

Now here come two people, a former employee and a vendor-tenant, who attest that their economic status, personal lives and general outlook have been improved, and that the approach adopted by NDMDC’s new leaders is not the least responsible for it.

Danilo Pan, 36 years old and a resident of Tandang Sora, Quezon City, is an example. He was hired in 1995 under the old regime. His job was to collect tenants’ stall rentals and financing amortization.

He recalls that in those days, he could go home as soon as he had finished his collections and turned it over to the office. But the salary was small and the employees enjoyed no benefits.

He stayed on because he appreciated the flexibility and had started enjoying the daily interaction with all kinds of people. In fact, he stayed long enough to see the transition. He was one of only two workers to cross over to the period of change.

The new managers improved the facade of the market. They painted the roofs and fixed whatever it was that leaked. They adjusted employees’ salaries and made sure they received the mandatory benefits. At the same time, they became strict among their workers who now had to log in and out at fixed hours.

Cynthia and her siblings had fresh ideas on how to make the market more efficient. The tenants, however, hardly shared this enthusiasm as they had been accustomed to the old way of doing things.

The new managers sought Danny’s help. He then employed his skills in dealing with people, convincing them to attend regular meetings, abide by documentary requirements well ahead of the deadlines, pay their dues faithfully, refrain from using debt proceeds to pay for another debt, keep their premises as clean as they should, adopt more stringent safety standards, etc.

In time, the resistance was quelled. Changes were introduced and, while there was still more room for improvement, significant progress was noted. In fact, management was so impressed by Danny’s “diplomacy” as well as his commitment to the job that they put him in charge of the dry goods section.

Soon, however, he and his wife started dreaming of establishing their own business dealing beef entrails. Danny felt he was ready to take on yet another challenge, as he had gained self-confidence from his job. At first, when they were just starting out, Danny would be late for work, or take half a day off. He felt guilty and decided to tell his bosses about his plans. Much to his surprise, they encouraged him to pursue his goals.

That’s one other thing he learned. People with good intentions don’t stifle you; they allow you to move on.

Now Danny and his wife are doing fine and are looking at opening up a store to be overseen by relatives in their native Daet, Camarines Norte. With their earnings, they have purchased a modest house and have helped send some nephews and nieces to school. They recognize the value of setting goals and reviewing past performance. They do not allow pressure to overwhelm them or impair their day-to-day decision making.

***

In the same manner, whatever Jenito Bersano, 37, lacked in formal education, he made up for in training with his boss, a meat vendor, whom he served for more than a decade.

Jiji was a restless lad of 16 when he left Ormoc, Leyte to try his luck in Manila. He stayed with a cousin and eventually found work as an all-around helper, called “boy.” He butchered the meat, heaved, sliced, sold it and earned a monthly income of P200. This was in the late 1980s.

His boss was very strict and Jiji resented this in the beginning. On the wall of his quarters was a schedule: What time to wake up, eat, work, rest, etc. He felt he was in the military. The slightest mistake earned him a reprimand. All kids of vices were prohibited and would cost him his job. His employer’s wife nagged him to save a portion of his money every payday.

Jiji says this training has paid off handsomely. He has struck out on his own, making and selling special longganisa.

Now his problem is keeping up with the rising cost of ingredients, which he imports, for his mixture. Jiji says his products are better than the branded ones in the supermarket. His products are 70-percent lean meat and only 30-percent fat. His preparation methods are safe and sanitary. His permits are all up-to-date.

Having learned the value of saving and sticking to a routine, he is able to give a comfortable life to his four children. Eventually, he wants to expand the business and be himself an importer of the ingredients that are shipped from Canada.

Now, too he has his own boys, or “alalay.” He takes his being an employer seriously, because these boys and their families depend on the salary he gives them. Seeing in these boys the lad he once was, he reminds them constantly not to rely too much on luck. Luck assumes life is not fair, he says. For Jiji, nothing beats hard work.