Chapter 10 - Proper Space #2
More packaging.
Mama stared at me.
"Dami mo gamit."
"I run a business."
"Dami pa rin."
Fair.
Ate Bianca arrived midway through the move.
Bad timing.
Or excellent timing, depending on perspective.
She entered the new workspace.
Looked around.
Her face brightened.
"Oh, okay dito ah."
"Yeah."
She walked toward the shelves.
"Pwede dito ko na ipa-deliver packaging ko."
"No."
She stopped.
"What?"
"No."
"Isang box lang."
"No."
"Lia."
"Ate."
"May space."
"This is my business space."
"Family naman."
"No."
She stared.
I stared back.
Then she smiled.
"Bayad storage?"
I laughed.
"No."
"Negotiable?"
"No."
"Ang damot."
"Yes."
She looked at my assistant.
"Ganyan ba boss mo?"
My assistant hesitated.
Dangerous.
I looked at them.
They looked at me.
Then at Ate Bianca.
"Mabait naman po."
I nodded.
Excellent survival instinct.
Kuya Nathan came by later.
He hadn't heard Ate Bianca's attempt.
Unfortunately.
He walked inside.
"Uy malaki."
"Small."
"Compared sa room mo."
"Fair."
He checked the back.
Then—
"Pwede kaya dito maglagay ng—"
"No."
He stopped.
"Hindi mo pa alam sasabihin ko."
"I know."
"Freezer."
"Absolutely not."
"One small freezer."
"Kuya."
"Sayang space."
"Exactly. My space."
He laughed.
"Okay, okay."
Then looked around again.
"Ganda setup."
"Thanks."
"May labels ko?"
I stared.
"Get out."
Papa helped install a wall-mounted fan on Sunday.
He refused to let me pay someone for that one because apparently fathers had jurisdiction over simple hardware installation.
I held the screws.
Mostly useless.
"Pa, straight?"
He stepped back.
Looked.
"Straight."
I looked.
"Parang slightly—"
"Straight."
"Okay."
I had negotiated acquisitions worth millions in another life.
Today I knew better than to argue with a man holding a drill.
Mama brought merienda.
Sofia sat at the admin desk.
Ate Bianca appeared again, allegedly just passing by.
Nobody believed her.
Kuya Nathan sent food.
The workspace wasn't even officially operating yet and somehow my entire family had already touched it.
I liked that.
More than I expected.
The hiring decision came almost immediately after.
Not because we had more space and I wanted to fill it.
Space was not justification for payroll.
Orders were.
I reviewed labor hours.
Production bottlenecks.
My assistant's current workload.
Then asked them—
"What do you like doing most?"
They looked nervous.
"Work po?"
"Yes."
"Layout."
I nodded.
I had noticed.
"What least?"
Pause.
"Cutting po."
I laughed.
"Why?"
"Masakit kamay."
Fair.
They had become decent at layouts.
Not designer level.
But good enough for basic work.
They understood our packaging process.
Could check names.
Could prepare files with supervision.
Keeping them trapped in repetitive cutting because everyone must do everything would be stupid.
Original Lia loved all-around employees.
Then wondered why everyone became overloaded.
Current Lia knew specialization could start small.
So I posted another part-time role.
Production and packing.
No experience required.
Trainable.
Reliable.
Detail-oriented.
School schedules respected.
No vague:
Must work under pressure.
I hated that phrase.
Usually meant:
We refuse to plan properly.
We interviewed three people.
One never showed up.
Classic.
One wanted hours I couldn't offer.
Fair.
The third—
quiet.
College student.
Available afternoons.
No printing experience.
Had worked briefly helping at a relative's small store.
Could follow instructions.
Asked good questions.
Most importantly, when I showed them a sample customized notebook and asked what they would check before packing—
they said:
"Name po."
Good.
"Anything else?"
"Color?"
"Yes."
"Quantity."
I nodded.
"Good."
My first assistant looked at me.
I looked back.
Wrong names were indeed worse than wrong colors.
Institutional knowledge.
Beautiful.
I hired them on a paid trial.
First day—
I almost started training.
Then stopped.
Looked at Assistant One.
"Teach the packing process."
They blinked.
"Ako po?"
"Yes."
They looked toward the new hire.
Then at me.
"Pero baka mali maituro ko."
"Then I'll correct it."
"Ma'am—"
"You know the process."
"Opo."
"You've been doing it."
"Opo."
"So teach it."
They stood a little straighter.
"Okay po."
I went to my desk.
Did not hover.
This was harder than it looked.
My entire nervous system screamed:
Check.
Watch.
Make sure.
I ignored it.
Behind me—
"Check name muna."
Good.
"Then color."
Good.
"Quantity."
Good.
"Pag may mali, separate dito."
Beautiful.
I smiled at my screen.
There.
This.
Not just hiring hands.
Building capability.
Original Lia had eventually learned it.
Much later than she should have.
Ten minutes later—
"Ma'am?"
I turned.
Assistant One held up a notebook.
"May small dent po. Rework?"
I looked.
"Yes."
They placed it correctly.
Then told the new hire—
"Pag unsure, wag i-pack."
I nearly cried.
Not literally.
But spiritually.
Management.
At twenty-four.
Who knew.
Opening day wasn't an opening day.
There were no balloons.
No ribbon.
No tarpaulin saying GRAND OPENING.
No priest.
No mayor.
No social-media countdown.
At eight-thirty, I unlocked the rolling door.
Assistant One arrived.
Assistant Two arrived.
We turned on the lights.
Electric fans.
Computer.
Printer.
Coffee.
That was it.
I stood in the middle for maybe ten seconds.
Small room.
Two employees.
Metal shelves.
Plastic bins.
One admin desk.
Two work tables.
Printers.
Materials.
A fire extinguisher Mama had personally verified was accessible.
Not impressive.
Not yet.
Perfect.
Assistant One looked at me.
"Ma'am?"
"Hm?"
"Okay lang po kayo?"
"Yes."
"Parang nakatulala kayo."
I smiled.
"Just looking."
They looked around too.
"Ang luwag na."
Compared to my bedroom?
Palace.
"Yeah."
Then—
"Work?"
I laughed.
"Work."
The first day exposed three problems before lunch.
Excellent.
Packing tape needed to move closer.
The finished-order shelf was too far from the packing table.