7%

... is pretty much nil if you think really, really hard about it. It's like being left the last skewed slice of pizza, a possible victim of an ingredient blind spot, and then finding out someone else has already --unabashed-- bitten into it. Almost negligible, you'd be hard-pressed to come-up with spare change of this denomination. Heck, cashiers don't even bother. But after this year's merit rating, a sordid process of self-reflection and evaluation, that special number took on a whole new meaning.

In our company, 7% meant VG-mid, which actually sounds pretty flattering. I performed well, not too shabby, but still have much to learn. If this was school, that'd mean I don't have to worry about exam results, unsubmitted assignments or those passionate peremptory recitations.

But, as the old adage says, the real world is a far stranger place than what they teach you in school. Apparently, all that hard-work, diligent effort, and relentless spirit I brandished these past 12 months were mediocre, commonplace and unexceptional. But I do understand though that I was young and that this is something that I should simply charge to experience.

I actually didn't mind that everyone else I knew where getting bonuses, 2-digit increases and hefty allowances , not to mention incentives, left and right. But the thing that piqued me most was that this was an opportunity lost. It dawned on me that, in terms of compounded interest, this was a failure--and sensei would be terribly disappointed.

If I had performed better, acted a little faster, smiled a little more, spoke a little more Japanese, I might have, however little, scored some more. If this was a video game, the walkthroughs would have told me to restart because, as another adage says, every bit counts.

So, to say the least, I was demoralized. I continued work dejected and disappointed. It didn't help things at all that some people were leaving the company too, getting salaries credit-card companies would rejoice for. At the risk of sounding conceited, I felt like I deserved more.

And then tonight, over our beloved Ate Frances' impromptu surprise despidida (that had a few crazy stories of its own including a 30-minute bathroom stake-out), I met a white-haired fellow of learned manner and gentle composition. He was Ate Frances' dad, Rudy-san, who apparently grew up in Japan and was more than happy to share with me some tales from the land of the rising sun (and yen).

And talk, he did and, like most wizened people we know, threaded his stories with tenets of encouragement and advice. He said that loyalty and patience is it's own reward, especially in a Japanese company; that the Japanese way was good and I was very fortunate to have found it. He went on that discovering their culture was a satisfying journey, their ideals and values are respected the whole world over for very good reason.

But above all, that I was young, and that my aspirations, despite minor setbacks, are still just as attainable as ever. In kind words and in the purest spirit of goodwill, he explained to me that the world is still offering me the riches of my dreams, and youth is my currency.

And in a few more hours, I'll be going back to work, earning yesteryear's salary at 7% more, but 100% the wiser.