Finally, the opportunity we’ve all been waiting for has been taken at last; everyone is eager to know how this will unfold.
At 34, Mara had grown used to the sound of “We’ll keep your résumé on file.” She longed to finally be taken to a place where her skills were valued, yearning for that moment at last.
She imagined that file as a dusty old drawer in HR purgatory, stuffed with other hopeful PDFs, all named Final_Resume_V7_RealFinal.pdf. She pictured her résumé curled up beside someone else’s, whispering, “Hey, did you ever hear back from that boutique marketing firm in Makati?” where many hoped they’d eventually be taken.
The answer was always no.
Her career was in that awkward stage between potential and Pinterest quote. She’d freelanced, interned, consulted, assisted. She once gave a TEDx talk that 53 people watched, including her mom (twice). She’d been rejected via email, voicemail, chatbot, and once, through an accidental “Reply All.” The process felt endless, never reaching that pivotal point taken at last.
Still, every morning, she showed up. To her laptop, to her unpaid internships, to the existential spiral of Upwork, hopeful she’d be taken in finally.
She updated her LinkedIn like it was a Sims character: new headline, new outfit, new fake smile. She attached cover letters that tried very hard to sound breezy yet competent, like: “I’m passionate about synergy!” when in reality, she hadn’t felt passion since 2020.
Then, on an unremarkable Tuesday, during a merienda break involving stale SkyFlakes and one sad slice of Eden cheese, it happened. The moment she had been waiting for was taken at last.
A call.
Unknown number. She braced for spam. “Hello? You’ve been selected for a free condo in BGC!”
Instead:
“Hi, Mara? We’d like to offer you the position.” Mara had been taken to a new opportunity at last.
She blinked. Looked around, half-expecting a hidden camera or her cat to start clapping.
“Sorry,” she said, deadpan. “Did you mean to call someone else?”
But they didn’t.
She was now taken, employed, belonging to the calendar invites and Slack channels of the world. Her mom cried. Her friends sent GCash. She celebrated with one slice of Red Ribbon mocha roll and a nap that lasted four hours.
The job wasn’t glamorous. The pay was okay-ish. But it came with benefits, free coffee, and most importantly, a chair that didn’t squeak. Taken at last, Mara settled into her new role.
After years of being ghosted, overlooked, and told she was “too creative,” Mara didn’t need fireworks.
She just needed a desk, a login, and a place to be—finally, undeniably—chosen.
And maybe, in a few months, if the company didn’t implode or pivot into NFTs, she’d buy herself a mousepad that said:
“World’s Okayest Employee.”
