Recently, we had a family reunion on my dad’s side that unfortunately I wasn’t able to attend because I was sick. However, my mom gave me a blow-by-blow account of the reunion and she relayed to me an interesting portion of the get-together, whereby certain members of the family were asked to speak before everyone and share their most cherished memories about the Nepo clan. So one by one, my cousins went up (some reluctantly) to share their most memorable experiences with different members of the family, most especially with our grandparents, Ricardo and Amanda Nepomuceno.
One of my cousins-in-law, UA&P director Ronnie Quesada (who is married to my cousin, Marcia Lim), was asked to share his own anecdotes, and, interestingly, the one thing that stood out in his memory was the time I went “missing” at the beach. I believe I was around six years old then. Kuya Ronnie recounted how “Rad-rad” (that was my nickname when I was a kid) suddenly disappeared while all the cousins, uncles, and aunties were wading in the water. It was dusk when this happened, so it was getting dark. Almost everyone was in the water — playing, bonding, telling stories, cooling off. Then someone shouted, “Hey, where’s Rad-rad?” All of a sudden, chaos ensued. Everyone was looking around, panicking, freaking out, and calling out my name.
“Rad-rad! Rad-rad!” they screamed. No answer. My mom was close to hysterical. This mad search went on for around five minutes, I think. Then, out of the blue, I appeared on the beach, walking casually towards the water. Someone spotted me and shouted, “There he is!” There was a collective sigh of relief. My mom dashed towards me, shaken but relieved. She embraced me, but I could tell she also wanted to whack me. She said, “O, Rad-rad, nucarin ka minta (“Where the heck did you go)? We were worried sick about you!”
I scratched my head, curious about the whole commotion. I felt like I was playing a part in a play featuring the Fifth Joyful Mystery of the Rosary or something. Perplexed, I casually asked, “Huh? Why were you looking for me? I just went back to the cottage ’cause I had to pee!” Everyone froze for a split-second then exploded into laughter. Then someone said, “Geez, if you got to do No. 1, you can do it right here in the water, no? You got us all worried!” Then one of my cousins retorted, “Why do you think seawater is salty? Now you know.” And they all laughed. In my mind, I was thinking, really? Yikes, this the last time I’m swimming at the beach!
Anyway, it’s an interesting, funny story, and it’s amazing how Kuya Ronnie remembered it. What struck me about the story was how I was able to affect lot of people in a bad way, without me even having the slightest intention of doing so. I mean, if you think about it, I did the right thing. I went out of the water and went to the cottage to go to the bathroom. It was a totally innocent act. One might even say it was a commendable act. But I guess what made it bad were the circumstances surrounding this “Toilet-gate.” For one thing, I didn’t ask permission. Guilty as charged, your honor. It’s true, I didn’t ask permission. But to this day, I still feel that I really didn’t have to. I mean, come on, do you really have to announce to everyone, “Hey, guys, I’m going to the bathroom!” At that tender age, I already operated on a “need-to-know” basis and I just felt that no one in that group really needed to know that I was going to the bathroom. But then again, I was just six years old. Plus, it was getting dark. Those circumstances should have made me more sensitive about the situation. In hindsight, perhaps it would have been best if I did tell someone — say, one of my brothers — that I was just going to the john to relieve myself. But then again, I was just six years old. What did I know, right?
But now, I am older. And presumably wiser. And after all these years, this is what I have learned about life: Sometimes, even if you have the best intentions, you’re still bound to disappoint someone.
It happened then when I was six. It continues to happen now. And it will continue to happen until I’m six feet under. During my brief “missing kid” episode, if you notice, I only had the best intentions: 1) I didn’t want to use the beach as my own public bathroom; 2) I didn’t want to bother anyone by having to ask permission; and 3) I returned right away after I was finished with my business. And yet, everyone thought that what I did was wrong. Well, maybe “wrong” is too strong a word. But everyone found my actions weird.
Now that I’m all grown up, this “syndrome” continues to happen. For example, one time, I had an event that was sponsored by a particular brand. All was going well. I had celebrities who came, and there were lots of people. Then, I was presented this interesting opportunity: one of my partners said he could bring along a very popular celebrity to the event. I said, “Cool! I am sure the sponsor would be very happy.”
True enough, my partner brought along his celebrity friend. The crowd shrieked. He was a very popular guy. And I was ecstatic, to say the least, because I knew that with this celebrity on hand, I was certain that there would be more attention paid to my event — and I was sure my sponsor would be pleased. As it turns out, however — and I didn’t know it at the time — the celebrity was an endorser of a brand that was a direct competitor of my sponsor. While I had only the best of intentions (I only wanted to please my client), my actions led to the most undesirable result: my client got pissed. Of course, I could very well understand why my client was pissed. But I was pretty bummed out. All I wanted was to please her. In the end, I ended up pissing her off.
This “best of intentions” phenomenon happens to everyone — even to the best. Willie Revillame, who is arguably the best at what he does, got into hot water recently when he made a comment on his show regarding the wake of President Cory Aquino being shown during his show. We all know the incident, so I won’t elaborate. A lot of people criticized Willie for that gaffe. But frankly, when I watched the incident several times, I have to admit that I wasn’t 100-percent convinced he had malice when he said what he said. I kind of knew where he was coming from. Sure, I don’t like what he said and how he said it. I felt it was totally off. But to be fair, I could understand why he said it. Sure, he could have said it off the air or he could have said it in a more diplomatic way. But I knew what he was trying to say. He was uncomfortable having fun while the wake was being shown. I could relate to what he was feeling. I am sure he had the best of intentions, but his tone and words were construed for arrogance. And he paid for it.
In conclusion, there are two points I wish to make here. First, don’t ever think that just because you have good intentions, you’re fully covered. Some of the worst mistakes in the world were done with good intentions. A basketball player might say, “I had good intentions when I shot that three-pointer at the buzzer. I wanted to shoot it and win the game.” But then again, if that wasn’t the play that was called for, his good intentions are not enough. He should have surveyed the situation better. Maybe it would have served the team better if he had passed the ball.
Second, good intentions should never be used as an excuse for any screw-up. That’s why we have that saying, “Maraming namamatay sa maling akala.” Good intentions are always tricky. You may think it’s good, but that’s because you’re using your subjective judgment. Whenever you’re in a tough or sticky situation — whether in business or otherwise — don’t rely solely on your good intentions. See it from a total perspective. Study the situation well. And then decide based on what you objectively think is right and good for everyone, not just yourself.
At the end of day, no one ever lives for himself.
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Thanks for your letters, folks! You may e-mail me at rodhnepo@yahoo.com.