It was towards the end of the first week of January, on a Monday, that I drove my tiny Italian job, a Fiat 600, a small excuse for a car that was even smaller than a Volkswagen Beetle, to my new appointment in Philippine Refining Company. At the parking lot I asked the security guard if I could park in any of the vacant spaces at the yard fronting the main building. Eager to start I was quite early in coming and there were still a lot of empty parking spaces. I knew that in companies like PRC parking spaces were reserved for the company biggies and I didn’t want to get into scrapes no matter how trivial on my first day. The guard pointed out, rather harshly, a space where I could park. I was to find out later that his name was Sgt. Marcelo and was the head of the security guards in the company. He was a gaunt faced elderly man with a wiry frame, bow-legged and with a comic looking squared moustache that partly hid a jutting solitary front tooth. Being used to the bigger cars of the PRC managers the tiny little car might have seemed incongruous to him. Still, I was thankful to him for finding a space for me to park.
|Vic Ferriols, Ed Roa, Chris Barber-Lomax, Peter Bachelor, Frankie Gonzales,Tony Tolentino, Joe Feliciano, Ray Harrison, Tony Uy & Ato Maningat|