Replicate yourself

“We need more of you. We need to replicate you.”

Our company owner told me that, not just once.
It stayed with me.

Because that is what leadership really is.

 Succession.
Legacy.
Purpose.

Not creating followers,
but developing people who can lead without you.

Not commanding tasks,
but transferring judgment, values, and standards.

Great leaders do not build dependence.
They build capacity.

I was fortunate to have mentors
who believed in me when I was still unfinished.
They saw potential before polish.
Possibility before proof.

They invested anyway.

Now, it is my turn.

But here is the truth:
mentorship requires discernment.

Time is finite.
Energy is sacred.
Wisdom is earned.

Not everyone deserves access to your playbook.

Choose carefully who you pour into.
Choose intentionally who you entrust your life’s work to.

And when you find them,
hope they honor the gift.
That they grow it.
That they carry it forward.

But if they do not,
if they take it lightly,
if they waste the opportunity,

Let them go.

That is not failure.
That is clarity.

Greatness given is never wasted.

It always finds its way
to those ready to build something bigger than themselves.

Culture > compensation

Gone are the days I would accept any role for a higher pay grade
or a shinier title.

Money is no longer the main driver.

Now it is about something deeper.

Working with someone, not under someone.
Because who you work with shapes who you become.

I have had bosses who tracked tasks.
And leaders who developed people.

One checked boxes.
The other built character.

Real leaders do not buy loyalty.
They earn it through trust, clarity, and consistency.

I do not mind skill gaps.
Technical skills can be learned.
That is why you hire for expertise.

What matters more is emotional intelligence.

Understanding people.
Knowing when to challenge.
Knowing when to steady.

Someone who checks in genuinely.

Someone who asks how you are,
not just what is done.

Someone who treats people as partners,
not parts.

That kind of leadership makes people stay,
even when they have options.

Over a decade and a half in the workforce,
I am grateful that opportunities now come more often.

Calls from headhunters are reminders that there are choices.
But what I look for is alignment.

I am not being picky.
I am being intentional.

Money is important.

But working with a true leader,
in a healthy culture,

That is priceless.

Shoulda, woulda, coulda

At one point, I lived out of a suitcase.

Week one in Metro Manila.
Week two somewhere else.

Alternate beds.
Alternate cities.
Alternate lives.

Work gave me access to places,
people,
and perspectives.

I met leaders.
Built networks.
Honed my craft in stakeholder management.

For a while, it felt like I was exactly where I was meant to be.

Then one early morning,
more than 500 kilometers away from home,
while overseeing event ingress in Cebu,
my phone rang.

It was my wife.
Her voice was shaking.

Our one-year-old had slipped in the bathtub.
Head first.
She was alone.
Afraid.
Panicking.

So was I.
Quietly.

Everything around me disappeared.
The checklist.
The stage lights.
The approvals.
The noise.

I was not there.
I could not help.
I could not even hold them.

And it hit me.

What am I really working for?

If I am going to be away this much,
why not be in Singapore, Australia, or Canada?

Thrice the pay.
Better benefits.
Better options.

But there I was.
In Cebu.
Not abroad.
Not earning dollars.

Missing moments no salary can ever buy back.

Priorities change.

Years from now,
I will not remember that event.

 But I will remember the moments I missed.
And I will regret them.

You do not get a second chance at the first five years of your child’s life.
You only get one chance to be present.

I am grateful for every opportunity.
Truly.

But some things matter more.

Any man can be a father.
A provider.

Not every man becomes a dad.

So to my fellow fathers,
we can always return to chasing careers.

For now,
I choose to chase something better.

I choose to be present.

*play Shoulda, Woulda, Coulda by Brian McKnight*

Play where it lands

It started with a gift.

A golf club set personally handed to me by the President of our company.

He said, “You’ll learn a lot out there.”

I thought he meant about golf.
He meant people.

Because golf reveals things the boardroom hides.

 In meetings, everyone’s polite.
Strategic.
Quoting Simon Sinek like it’s a religion.

But on the golf course?
You’ll see who really practices “emotional intelligence”
and who’s one slice away from throwing their driver into the lake.

Some people blame the wind.
Others blame the grass.
One guy blamed the sun.
Even gravity. 

Then there are the calm ones.

Golf’s funny like that.

It silences the loud,
humbles the know-it-all,
exposes the fake calm,
and rewards those who can laugh at their own bad swing.

The fairway doesn’t care about your title or your KPIs.

It only cares if you can recover.

Maybe that’s why the President gave me that set.
Not as a gift, but as a test.

Because in golf,
like in life,
everyone looks good at tee-off.

Character shows up on the second shot.
When the ball didn’t go where you planned.

Never trust a guy who blames gravity.

You burned out your brightest

You do not lose your best people overnight.
It starts quietly.

When you ask them to clean up
after poor performance.

When you “reward” them with more work
because they are “the only ones who can.”

 When you keep loading them up
because they are “so reliable.”

When they help out of malasakit,
you call it overstepping.

Yet you volunteer them everywhere
because “the organization needs them.”

When job scopes slowly expand,
and suddenly, work that was never theirs
becomes “part of the role.”

You stretch them for out-of-scope work,
but hesitate to fight for their raise,
their bonus,
their promotion.

You postpone recognition to “next cycle.”
You offer small increases 5% increase,
while their workload grows by 50%

You cite “budget constraints”
instead of acknowledging their real value.

Your best people will accept this, for a while.
Because strong performers are loyal.

But one day, they notice the imbalance.

And when they do,
they do not complain loudly.

They stay professional.
They deliver.
They smile in meetings.

Until one day, they do not.

Because burnout does not explode.
It fades.

Quietly.

Take your top performers for granted,
and you lose the ones carrying the real weight.

The ones making it look easy.
The ones protecting the team from crisis.
The ones creating space for others to breathe.

Their reliability is why systems hold.
Their commitment is why leaders can step away.

Ever notice how things feel heavier
when they take leave?

That is not coincidence.

At minimum, compensate them fairly.
Better yet, value them consistently.

Occasional “good job” is appreciated,
but it does not replace growth, trust, or opportunity.

Because if you do not build a place
where your best people can thrive,

They will build a life
where they are valued.

When the door opens

You waited.

You worked.

You showed up, even when no one was watching.

You sat through the politics.

You endured the silence.

You accepted tasks beyond your pay grade.

You carried weight that was not always yours.

And then, the door opens.

Not with fanfare. Not with confetti.

Just a quiet acknowledgment that you have always belonged.

Because the truth is, the title did not make you ready.

The waiting did.

Every late night.

Every unseen effort.

Every moment you chose grace over resentment.

They shaped the version of you
who can now carry the title with steadiness,
not ego.

You no longer need to prove your worth.

You simply need to embody it.

And when you walk in, remember the waiting room.

Remember those still in it.

The ones who stayed
through the difficult seasons.

The ones who made the journey lighter,
not heavier.

The value builders.
The steady ones.

Because real leadership is not about finally entering the room.

It is about holding the door open
for those who come next.

View from the middle

Middle management is not a punishment.
It is a perspective.

From here, you see everything.

Pressure from above.
Uncertainty below.
And the complexity that moves in between.

You are close enough to the front lines to understand the struggle,
and close enough to the boardroom to understand the politics.

You are the bridge that holds both worlds together.

Some days, it feels like being stretched.
Other days, it feels like being invisible.
On your best days, it feels like purpose.

Because the middle is where balance is built.
Where decisions meet reality.
Where empathy meets execution.

You may not have the corner office,
but you are the one who keeps the corners from collapsing.

It is not glamorous.
It is not loud.

But it is leadership in its purest form.

Leading without distance.
Influencing without applause.

So do not resent the view from the middle.
Own it.

Because from here,
you see what others miss.

Waiting room of leadership

You are doing the work of a senior leader.

Carrying the weight.

Solving the problems.

Creating value.

Holding the team together when no one else will.

Stepping in when leadership gaps appear.

But the title is not yours.

Not yet.

You tell yourself to be patient.

That growth takes time.

That recognition follows consistency.

And still, waiting quietly does not mean it does not sting.

Because deep down,

you know you are already leading.

Just without the label.

Just without the compensation.

You watch others move ahead,

and you wonder if timing, politics, or visibility

sometimes speak louder than performance.

Still, you stay.

Not because you are stuck,

but because you understand that how you lead today

shapes who you become tomorrow.

The waiting room is uncomfortable.

But it is also formative.

It is where leaders are refined, not assigned.

Where patience meets preparation.

Where posture matters more than position.

So keep showing up.

Keep doing the work no one applauds.

Because when the door finally opens,

you will not walk in hopeful.

You will walk in proven.

Be the Alfred

Everyone wants to be Batman.
Some settle for being Robin.
But very few choose to be Alfred Pennyworth.

Alfred does not fight crime.
He does not chase the spotlight.

Yet he is the reason Batman stands back up.

He is the voice that steadies chaos.
The presence that brings clarity.
The one who knows where the pain hides,
and still shows up with tea and truth.

That is the quiet burden of middle leadership.

You are not the hero on the poster.
You are not the sidekick on the front line.
You are the one who keeps the mission alive between both.

You fix what breaks.
You translate impossible expectations into workable plans.
You hold the line when confidence wavers,
from above and below.

It is not glamorous.
It is not loud.

But it is essential.

Because without an Alfred,
there is no Batman.

 Without a stabilizer,
even strong leaders lose their footing.

So if you ever feel unseen,
uncredited,
or underappreciated,

remember this:

Heroes make headlines.
Alfreds make history.

Not every leader wears a cape.
Some just keep the lights on in the Batcave.

Trust over trail

Leadership is trust.

But somewhere along the way, it became CCs and screenshots.

We started asking our team to copy us “for transparency,”

but sometimes, it is really for control.

We track every task,
every update,
every reply,

not because the work will not get done,

but because we have forgotten how to trust the people who do it.

Micromanagement looks like diligence on the surface,

but underneath, it is fear in disguise.

Fear of being left out.

Fear of not being needed.

Fear of being outshined by your own team.

True leadership does not need a paper trail to prove involvement.

It builds ownership so strong that results speak louder than reports.

Because the best teams do not move in chains of CCs.

They move in trust.

So the next time you are about to say, “CC me,”

ask yourself:

Is it about alignment, or assurance?

Empower your people.

Trust the process.

Learn to let go.

Control is heavy.

Trust makes everyone lighter.

Leadership when you're not in charge

Leading down is expected.
Leading across is complex.
Leading up is an art form.

You navigate egos bigger than budgets.
You package hard truths so they can be heard.
You defend your team without sounding defensive.
You say “noted” to decisions that puzzle you, because diplomacy keeps the lights on.

You tell yourself it is strategic.
And it is.

But sometimes, it feels like disappearing in plain sight.

You build the decks they deliver.
You craft the language they claim.
You generate results that make them look visionary.

And when recognition comes, it rarely calls your name.

That is the duality of leadership.
To comply without compromising.
To serve without shrinking.

Managing up is not about pleasing power.
It is about protecting people.

So yes, understand the game.
Speak their language.
Let them feel in control.

But never lose your voice in the process.

Because when it is finally your turn to lead,
your team will rise only as high as your integrity stood
when no one was watching.