My Philippine friend

I had a long conversation with my friend B. In my opinion, B is a Philippine genius. We worked together for 20 years, and his office was just two doors away from mine.

Our office back then was like the UN. We had an Israeli, a Fijian, my friend from the Philippines, a Chinese guy who grew up in Costa Rica and spoke Spanish, a Mexican-American, and myself—a Mexican-Mexican. There’s even a long story about chess involving a Hungarian, a Filipino, and a Mexican, but I’ll leave that one for another time.

We both share that "I am not American" feeling, which is hard to explain to our American friends. Once, while driving in Miami, an American friend of mine stopped right in the middle of the street to ask a neighboring police car for directions... A Filipino or a Mexican—or any smart Filipino or Mexican—would never do that.

In one of our conversations about our countries, another thing became obvious: the Philippines and Mexico are very close to each other. The corruption stories from his country were the exact same things happening in mine. He even mentioned one day that his father liked to put Maggi sauce on his soup. "Maggi?" I asked. "Yes, it’s a Philippine sauce." "No, no, no," I replied, "it’s a Mexican sauce that my father liked to put on his soup!" Early versions of Google eventually gave us the real answer: Maggi liquid seasoning actually originated in Switzerland in 1886, created by Julius Maggi.

B used to drive an hour each way every day just so he could buy a beautiful house, while I lived so close I could walk home. I was never able to save up for a down payment, so in the end, I was paying more in rent than he was for his mortgage. He went with me once to "negotiate" my new car. I don’t remember the exact prices, but I remember when the second dealer talked to us, I started right off by saying, "Well, the other guy quoted us X..." B wanted to punch me in the face right there! "What if they were going to offer it to you for less?!" he said.

Another time, we went together to the mountains in Palm Springs to play in the snow. L, B’s wife, carried my daughter Ana all the way to the aerial tramway. Ana was just a baby, and a day later, B told me that seeing that made them decide to have a baby of their own. I always thought he was lying just to make me feel good, but who knows?

Now, B is planning to retire at 62. He has saved enough to build his dream house back in the Philippines. When I asked him about work, he told me he was retiring: "What am I going to do? I don't know. But I can tell you what I'm not going to do: what I'm doing right now."

When his kids were born, his plan was to finish paying off the house and then start saving for college. But the plan didn't go as expected—his son turned out to be very, very smart, got everything covered, never needed a penny for college, and is making lots of money now.

Reviewing our lives, I told him that I started with a handicap: his wife made as much money as he did, but my wife didn't. However, the big difference was that I spent every penny I got. Invite 10 of my relatives or my in-laws for a 3-day pass to Disney? Why not? The kids always had annual passes to Disney... That was my life. Stupid, yes, but mine in the end... and I enjoyed my life. I also mentioned that I’m sure, being from the Philippines, he helped a lot of people back in his homeland, just as much as I did in mine.

I always thought B liked computers as much as I did, so knowing he’s retiring from all of that shocked me. I told him, "I’ll retire from computers when they pull the plug!"

I told him I smoke weed. I let him know that I was never able to have a beer and work... but at 65, I found that weed has a completely different effect on me. I can work 12 or more hours a day while high—making apps, painting, writing... I found a whole new life with AI, and I'm even planning to write a book about my American experience.

My last thought about B is that, in the end, we are both good guys—and we’ve both arrived at a place very close to total happiness.