Whew! How fast time flies.
As part of the Department of Education’s Rationalization Program, employees were encouraged to apply for various positions across multiple strands — and being the largest public organization in the country, the choices were as abundant as budget insertions in Congress. (Oops.)
As a mid-career professional, I wanted to make sure I aligned my next move with my strengths. So I scanned the vacancy list with laser precision and ended up applying for not one, not two... but six plantilla positions. Yep, six.
“Why not just 2 or 3?” you might ask — and honestly, I asked myself the same thing. Was it confidence? Was it desperation? Maybe a bit of both. But to be fair, there were no limits to the number of submissions. I even heard one guy applied for 32 positions — imagine the deforestation that required. Sarcastic chuckle.
The Terrible Turn of Events
Fast forward to July. I overheard one of my superiors mention that no one applied for a Senior Education Program Specialist (SEPS) position in the Instructional Materials Council Secretariat (IMCS) — which was being reorganized under the Bureau of Learning Resources (BLR).
That struck me.
I was sure I applied for that very position. So I did what any rational, slightly panicked employee would do — I rummaged through my receiving copies like a madman.
Lo and behold — there it was.
My IMCS application, filed and received properly. So why wasn’t I on the shortlist for interview?
I marched to the Personnel Division (PD), evidence in hand. "How did you know there’s a list? That’s confidential!" one staff whispered. I smiled awkwardly, guilty as charged. But Sir Albert, ever the gracious gentleman, took my document, checked the records, and told me to come back on Monday. Hope flickered.
Monday Blues... and a Miracle
That Monday (let’s skip the exact date — suspense is good for the soul), I stopped by the DepEd chapel to pray for a little miracle. Afterwards, I headed back to PD, holding on to faith... and caffeine.
There I found Ate Meling, who helped me go Sherlock Holmes on my folder. As we combed through it, I noticed two documents with my name — but one was incorrectly labeled. Aha! We found the glitch in the matrix.
She called Sir Albert, who confirmed the mix-up and assured me my name would now be included in the interview list.
YES! VICTORY!
But wait…
At 8 PM that same night — ding! — I got a text:
“You’re scheduled for interview tomorrow morning.”
WHAT?!
I had barely 6 hours to prep. No time for a new haircut, let alone a new soul.
The Interview: A Comedy of Nerves
Tuesday morning came. I walked in, head held high, heart pounding like a drumline.
The panel didn’t hold back. They grilled me on policies, past outputs, and my performance as Education Program Specialist II. It was a behavioral interrogation — the kind where you summon all your “what did I do with my life” memories and try to fit them into the STAR framework (thank you, University of Sheffield online course).
Despite my preparation, I stumbled. My nerves got the best of me. I stuttered. I second-guessed. I could feel my confidence slipping out the door — maybe to join the applicant with 32 submissions.
Honestly, I left the room disappointed with myself.
A Question I Won’t Forget
Then came the most haunting question of all, from the Union President:
“You’re an IMCS staff applying for SEPS, right? There are 9 available positions. What if everyone gets it — except you?”
Oof.
I breathed in, and answered honestly:
“That would be disheartening, especially since I’m from the inside. But maybe that just means I still have to grow and develop myself further.”
Reflection
Looking back, the experience taught me more than any seminar could. It reminded me that mistakes happen, that even a misplaced document can change the course of someone's path — and that you can lose a battle and still win the war.
So yes, I may have faltered. But I showed up. I asked. I followed up. And when things went wrong, I did everything I could to set them right. That, for me, is already a small victory.
