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About Business Class Podcast

This podcast shares research insights and experience based information from the host's career as entrepreneur and educator.

When Friendship Meets Leadership

In my years of handling corporate clients, there are a few training needs that consistently come up. One of them is helping managers learn how to lead, delegate, and get their subordinates to work toward their objectives. This is not exclusive to local companies. Even multinational companies have raised the same concern.

Whenever a client requests this kind of training, there is one question I would ask:

“Are these newly promoted managers now handling people who used to be their friends?”

The answer is almost always yes.

In other words, these are employees who have been promoted and are now expected to manage the same people they used to work alongside as peers.

I ask this question because pakikisama is a big part of Filipino culture. We value relationships, getting along with others, and maintaining harmony within a group. I cannot simply dismiss these cultural realities and call these managers unprofessional because they find it difficult to manage their friends. I want to understand what makes the transition difficult.

Sometime in 2013, I conducted training for newly promoted managers and supervisors. When I asked them about their difficulties in managing their friends, many shared a similar experience. Their friends would tease them and say, “Hindi ka na ma-reach” or “Nag-iba ka na.”

Think about what happens in this situation. A person gets promoted, and with the promotion comes the responsibility to give instructions, correct mistakes, and hold people accountable. But the people they now supervise are the same people they used to joke around with, eat lunch with, and share stories with.

How do you exercise authority without making your friends feel that you have changed?

On the other hand, I have also observed companies where friendship works in favor of newly promoted managers. Their friends cooperate, accept their direction, and support them in their new roles.

This tells me that friendship itself is not necessarily the problem. The same relationship that makes it difficult for one manager to exercise authority can help another manager lead a team effectively.

The difference may lie in how the manager and the team understand their relationship now that their roles have changed.

A manager does not have to stop being a friend. But friendship cannot be the reason for avoiding a difficult conversation, tolerating poor performance, or refusing to make a decision. At some point, the responsibility of the position must take precedence over the desire to keep everyone comfortable.

This is one of the challenges of moving from being a team member to becoming a manager. The promotion changes the position, but it does not automatically change how a person relates to others.

The Difficulty of Speaking Up

Another training request that frequently comes up is helping managers learn to speak up.

Clients would often tell me that their managers are talkative during breaks, lunch, or informal gatherings but become quiet during meetings. They have ideas, but they do not share them. They may see a problem or have a suggestion, but they hesitate to bring it up.

When I ask these managers about it, I often hear that they are shy or afraid they might not be able to defend their ideas when questioned.

Again, I notice something familiar in our culture: pagkamahiyain.

There is nothing inherently wrong with being shy or reserved. Not everyone has to be outspoken, and being quiet does not mean a person has nothing valuable to contribute. But when a manager cannot express an idea because of the fear of being questioned, the organization loses an opportunity to benefit from that person’s knowledge and experience.

Part of being a manager is communicating decisions, raising concerns, sharing ideas, and sometimes disagreeing with people who may be more senior. A manager does not have to win every argument, but should be willing to explain the reasoning behind a recommendation and consider a different point of view.

The question, then, is not whether a manager is naturally shy. It is whether that person can learn to speak when the responsibility of the role requires it.

The Real Challenge of Management Development

Looking at these experiences, I see a common thread. Some managers hesitate to exercise authority because they want to maintain good relationships. Others hesitate to speak because they are afraid of being questioned or embarrassed.

In both cases, the manager’s behavior is influenced by the desire to avoid an uncomfortable situation.

Of course, this does not mean that pakikisama and pagkamahiyain are the only reasons managers struggle. Some may lack experience, communication skills, or confidence. Others may be working in organizations where questioning a superior is discouraged. These factors also matter.

But my point is that we cannot develop managers simply by teaching them techniques for delegation, communication, or leadership. We also need to help them understand why they hesitate to use those techniques in the first place.

Knowing how to delegate is different from being willing to delegate. Knowing how to give feedback is different from having the courage to correct a friend. Knowing how to present an idea is different from being willing to defend it when someone disagrees.

The gap between knowing what to do and actually doing it is where much of management development happens.

A newly promoted manager may understand the principles of leadership during training but return to the workplace and fall back into familiar habits. The first time a friend complains about being corrected, the manager may hesitate. The first time a senior executive challenges an idea, the manager may choose to remain silent.

This is why I believe that developing managers requires more than a training session.

Training can introduce concepts, challenge assumptions, and provide opportunities to practice. But the real test comes when managers apply what they have learned in actual workplace situations. They need opportunities to practice, receive feedback, make mistakes, and try again.

Management must also do its part. Companies cannot expect managers to exercise authority if they do not give them the necessary support. Nor can they expect people to speak up if the workplace makes disagreement uncomfortable or risky.

Developing managers is a shared responsibility. Managers must be willing to change their habits, while organizations must provide the environment and support that allow them to grow.

After all, promotion gives a person a new position, but it does not automatically provide the judgment, confidence, and discipline required to lead.

The real work begins when managers learn to act on what they know, even when doing so is uncomfortable.

That may mean correcting a friend, defending an idea, or making a decision that not everyone will like. These are not necessarily signs that a manager has become arrogant or difficult to approach. They may simply be signs that the person is learning to take the responsibilities of the position seriously.

The goal is not to make managers abandon pakikisama or change their personalities. It is to help them understand when to preserve harmony, when to speak up, and when their responsibilities require them to make a difficult decision.

That kind of judgment does not develop overnight. It takes practice, experience, and commitment from both the manager and the organization.

Mood Swings

I heard in the barangay hall, “Magpakabait kayo, mainit ang ulo ni OIC.” This isn’t the first time I heard this. I’ve heard something similar in private organizations too.

This reveals something about leadership: people tend to respond to mood instead of the day’s tasks and bigger company objectives. Just imagine the impact if all our organizations were like this.

As leaders, this information should tell us how our mood impacts efficiency, but it should not be the driver of productivity. It also doesn’t mean that leaders should always be in a bad mood just to hit targets.

I ask one question: Do people understand the importance of what they’re doing, or are they simply managing the leader’s mood? For leaders, perhaps the question is even simpler: Are people responding to the work, or to my mood?

Leadership is not just about what is effective or productive. It is also about helping people understand why their work matters, so that they can do what needs to be done even when the leader isn’t around, isn’t happy, or isn’t having a good day.

A healthy organization should not depend on the emotional temperature of one person. It should be guided by shared purpose, clear expectations, and people who have learned to take responsibility for the work.

Temperance is Freedom

Raise your hands if you scroll on your social media before going to sleep? I do. Often I would catch myself scrolling for an hour to over an hour then I would feel bad for wasting my time that could have gone to reading or doing other chores.

Raise your hands if you have been to a buffet then ate more than your limit so you get your money’s worth. I do as well.

How about gossiping? Raise your hands if you promised yourself not to tell your friend’s secret yet you could not help yourself but tell other people.

I would ask the same thing for anger. Raise your hands if at one point, you were so made that you could not control your emotions anymore.

Why, what is wrong with over eating, doom scrolling, or gossiping about friends to other friends?

It is not a question whether your actions are good or bad but rather am I being enslaved by my emotions, or am I still in control of my actions?

I would like to introduce you to temperance. Temperance is the virtue that moderates our attraction to human wants or desires and helps us maintain a balanced use of created goods. Temperance doesn’t say, ‘desire is bad.’ It says, ‘desire is human but it must have its proper place.

Temptation doesn’t always begin with evil. It begins with something good that becomes excessive or disordered. Here are some examples.

Food is good. But eating because you are bored is different.

Rest is good. But avoiding responsibility because you want comfort is different.

Friendship is good. But needing everyone’s approval is different.

Technology is useful. But being unable to put your phone down is different. 

The devil doesn’t always have to make us desire evil. Sometimes he only has to make us desire a good thing in the wrong way, at the wrong time, or in the wrong amount.

Can you say no to something you really want? If the answer is no, then despite having the freedom to choose, you aren’t really free in that area. 

“If I can eat chocolate, that’s freedom.

If I can eat chocolate but can also say, ‘No, I don’t need it,’ that’s greater freedom.

But if I cannot say no, then chocolate has begun to exercise control over me.” 

So, temperance makes desire obey reason rather than making reason obey desire. 

Christian temperance isn’t simply about becoming disciplined people. It is about making room for something greater. 

Christ doesn’t ask us to become people who don’t enjoy life.

He asks us to become people who are free to love, because a heart constantly distracted by appetite, pleasure, approval, or entertainment has difficulty seeing what truly matters. 

Temperance is not saying no to desire because desire is bad. Temperance is learning to say yes to what is truly good.

Because the person who cannot say no to himself is not truly free.

And Christianity is not ultimately about having fewer desires. It is about having desires ordered toward something greater: toward truth, toward love, and ultimately toward God.

Can I be good without being religious?

The calling of St. Matthew

I recently had a conversation with some teenagers, and two of them caught my attention. Both had approached me for help with their moral goals.

I asked the first one some probing questions. I learned that he is Protestant and that his father is the pastor of their church, but he does not regularly attend. For him, religion is something he would rather explore later in life. He finds loud expressions of praise performative, and he struggles with the idea that doing good is connected to going to heaven. He feels that if the motivation for doing good is the reward of the afterlife, then he is being forced to be good.

He also struggles with the idea that someone could live badly for most of his life and still go to heaven by saying sorry and genuinely repenting, even near the end of his life.

The second teenager goes to church but stays at the back. His struggle is somewhat different. He cannot reconcile the fact that both good and bad people can be found inside the Church. He has seen people who seem religious but use Jesus as an excuse for bad behavior. He does not particularly want to be religious, but he does want to be good.

These are not uncommon struggles among young people who are trying to make sense of faith: Religion isn’t for the young. Can’t I just be good? Can I go to heaven simply by saying sorry? Why are there bad people in church? Why do I need to attend Mass if I can have a personal relationship with Christ?

Both, in different ways, seem to be asking the same question:

Can I be good without being religious?

And beneath that question is another one: What makes goodness authentic?

I did not directly rebut their arguments. I wanted to avoid turning the conversation into a debate. Instead, I tried to listen and offer a few thoughts for them to consider.

For the first teenager, I shared something I heard at Mass the day before, words quoted from Fulton Sheen. Since he said he wanted to be good, I asked him what makes someone a good member of a club. He answered that a good member attends meetings and participates.

I told him that the same principle can apply to belonging to a church. If we claim to be a member of a community, participation is at least part of what membership means.

I also wanted to address his struggle with what might be called transactional Christianity, the idea that we simply do good in exchange for the reward of heaven. I asked him to examine his motives: Am I doing this because it is genuinely good, or am I doing it because I expect something in return?

There is a difference between doing something good because we love the good and doing it merely because it benefits us.

I suggested that he read C.S. Lewis’s Mere Christianity as part of his moral goal. Reading the book will not automatically make him religious or pious. But it will expose him to arguments about objective moral truth and the claims of Christianity, and perhaps give him a framework for examining the questions he is already asking.

For the second teenager, I used an analogy from school.

A school is made up of many students. Some have excellent grades and character; others do not. If someone wants to understand what the school stands for, however, we would probably look at the students who actually embody its ideals rather than those who merely carry its name.

The same can be said of the Church. It is made up of people at different stages of faith and moral development. Some follow its teachings authentically; others fail to live up to them. The existence of people who behave badly does not necessarily tell us what the Church teaches. In fact, the teachings of the Church provide the standard by which the behavior of its members can be judged—including the behavior of those who claim to follow Christ.

And ultimately, we are not in the Church simply because of the people in it. We are there because of Christ.

He also mentioned that religious people sometimes use Jesus as an excuse for their bad behavior. I wish I had more time to probe what he meant by that. Perhaps he was referring to people who use forgiveness or grace to excuse their actions. Perhaps he has experienced people who invoke Christianity while behaving badly. I don’t want to speculate. I simply found the observation worth exploring further.

I also told him something about attending Mass: we should not expect Mass to give us a particular feeling every time. We do not come to Mass merely as consumers asking, “What am I going to get out of this?”

We come bringing something of our own: our whole selves—our gratitude, failures, worries, relationships, hopes, work, struggles, and intentions and offer them to God.

For both of them, I emphasized one thing: if you want to be good, you have to know what it is to be truly good.

Goodness cannot simply mean “doing what feels right to me.” If we are serious about becoming good, we have to search for the truth about goodness. And that means seeking out people, authors, thinkers, and personalities who have wrestled with these questions and, more importantly, tried to live what they believed was good.

That is why I recommended C.S. Lewis’s Mere Christianity and mentioned G.K. Chesterton, writers who take seriously the questions of truth, morality, human nature, and what it means to live well.

Our conversation ended, but perhaps another had just begun.

If you want to be good, you first have to discover what goodness truly is. But once you recognize it, another question follows:

Am I willing to follow it?

The seed

Gabay Bayan Outreach 2007

I got goosebumps when I saw online the long lines of people along the highway, from Isabela all the way to Quirino, waiting for one last glimpse of Dax’s coffin. I was moved by the countless testimonies on social media of his kindness, and by the stories of provincial projects that have touched lives and will continue to benefit generations to come.

Together, they are a testament to the kind of person and public servant Dax was.

I have read many posts asking life’s most painful question: Why, of all people, someone like him?

It is a question born of hurt, disbelief, and panghihinayang, for all the things that will now remain unfinished, and for all the things we imagined he would still do.

His loss is profound, not only for his family, but for Quirino and for the country he served.

And yet, perhaps Dax’s story was never meant to end with his death.

His life has simply taken another form.

His passing made people curious. They searched for who he was, and what they found was not merely a politician’s biography, but the traces of a life spent serving: projects that endure, work done with discipline, and countless stories of kindness and love for people.

And perhaps this is where grief begins to make room for hope.

Because what Dax left behind are not merely memories. They are seeds.

Seeds he planted quietly over 25 years of service, through people he helped, communities he strengthened, projects he built, and lives he touched.

We mourn the one who was lost.
But from the seeds he planted, many more can grow.

That, perhaps, is the mystery of a life lived well: when the person is gone, the good does not disappear with him. It is carried by others. It takes root in places he may never see. It continues in people who were inspired by his example and in communities that will benefit from work he began.

For 25 years, Dax served with integrity. And through that integrity, he brought dignity to Quirino and its people.

Now those seeds belong to all of us.

May they grow in the people he inspired. May they take root in those who still believe that public service can be an act of love. And may his life remind us that doing what is right, even when no one is watching, is never wasted.

Dax’s story continues not because we refuse to let go, but because the good he planted remains.

Perhaps this is one small answer to the painful question of “Why him?”

We may never understand why his life had to end when it did. But we can choose what his life will mean after it ends.

We can carry the seeds forward.

Quirino is no longer just a name on a map. Through Dax’s life and service, it has found a place in the hearts and minds of Filipinos who may never have known the province before.

May you honor him by continuing the good he began.

May you carry forward the vision he had for the province he loved.

And may Dax’s life remind us that one person, serving with truth and putting others first, can plant something that outlives him, something that, in time, may grow far beyond what he could ever have imagined.