So, the twitter verse was abuzz tonight when the news came out that Pia Hontiveros was leaving ANC and heading on over to SolarTV. Since I’ve been on Strictly Politics at least more than twice, I felt rather strongly that I wanted to write a bit about that program and, naturally, the formidable Ms. Hontiveros herself.
I don’t recall exactly what my first appearance on Strictly Politics was about, but I do remember the feeling that preceded it. I had, of course, seen countless episodes of the program and knew that its host had a sharp mind and a cutting wit that could eviscerate a guest with utmost efficiency.
The host brooked no nonsense from her guests. She addressed them with intelligence and clearly expected to be given the same courtesy. She also did her homework and guests would find out, to their cost, that if they didn’t, they would quickly find the seat across the table from her the most uncomfortable place in all of tv-land.
Needless to say, I was scared sh*tless.
Still, there was nothing for it but to soldier on, and so I did. Fortunately, the universe saw fit to smile down on me and I got through that first encounter with my skin intact. But as these things go, I should’ve realized that a lesson needed to be learned. Lesson number one: dodging a bullet once never means that you will always escape unscathed.
Soon after that, I was again invited and right away, I felt that this time would be different. Like a fool, I had gotten cocky and rushed to the studio straight from another engagement. When I got there, I immediately regretted not preparing more. You get an instinct for these kinds of things, I suppose, where you approach an interview and get a hunch about how it’s gonna turn out. Well that day, I felt that I would be in for some rough sailing.
Pia greeted me as always: with a sweet and welcoming smile that quickly – if foolishly for me – made me feel at ease. While we waited for the program to start, she was absentmindedly shuffling her papers and engaging the guests and the crew in small talk, further reassuring me that everything was going to be ok.
But when the opening credits started to roll, Pia suddenly shed her air of jovial harmlessness and all of a sudden, I realized I had underestimated the woman in front of me. Lesson number two: the tiger may purr, but it is still a tiger.
She confronted me with a glaring error in one of the COMELEC’s resolutions – the one that made it unlawful for surveys to be published immediately prior to elections – and basically had me pinned in place, like a fat bug on a tray of paraffin wax. I suppose my consternation must have showed in my eyes – as if the hysterical edge to my laughter weren’t enough of a dead giveaway – because, as I was struggling to find a way out of the cul-de-sac that I’d found myself in, I imagined that I saw a twinkle in Pia’s eye.
Amusement, maybe? Or the glint of hard steel as it’s coming in for the kill. Whatever it was, it made me realize that there was only one way to get past the woman and that bit of epiphany set the standard for how I would perform as spokesman from that moment on, until this very day. Lesson number three: never ruin a good admission with excuses.
“We made a mistake.”
As I said those words, my legs went numb; the other guests pounced, and I got the pithiest tongue-lashing I’ve ever had the privilege of being on the receiving end of. Pia got her licks in, of course, but never in a mean way, I felt. Rather, I knew that I was learning important stuff about how it was to be in such a uniquely responsible position where, it isn’t technically your fault but you have to be answerable for the screw-up anyway. By listening closely to how Pia phrased her questions and how she probed deeper at some points and practically flew over others, I got a very clear sense of what mattered to the principled and critical public. Those insights have been my guideposts ever since.
Strangely though, after an admission like that you would imagine that the rest of the show would go by with agonizing slowness, but it didn’t. Perhaps because it had become a learning session for me – a neophyte in the arena of public discourse – time just seemed to contract and the next thing I knew, we were all saying good-bye.
There was a lot of good-natured ribbing from Pia of course, which I appreciated very much. It was just the kind of soft landing that I needed after the hard schooling I’d just received. While the discussion had been strictly politics, the atmosphere after the mics were off was pleasantly personal. And in that, yet another lesson that has stood me in good stead ever since. Lesson number four: leave the knives on the battlefield.
Fast-forward to tonight, and I’m still reeling from the news. Nevertheless, as I read the formidable Miss Hontiveros’ tweets to her well-wisher and supporters, I’m thinking there is a lesson to be learned here as well. I may not fully grasp what it is yet, but I know that I am learning at the feet of a master.