C'mon, you can't miss what you never had

JAKARTA (JP): The company I work for used to provide its senior employees with a very entertaining R and R program. We were given the opportunity to spend two weekends a year at a bungalow on an island resort.

Recently, when business turned bad, the management decided to terminate the lease of the bungalow. Unfortunately, they axed the perk just as my family's turn came up.

We had been looking forward to a great vacation. My oldest son had asked his friends to join us. Our youngest had bought new skin-diving gear. And my wife had shopped.

The termination of the trip caused every one to complain.

"How dare they do that to us," my wife rattled. "They should have waited until the end of holiday season. Everybody in the organization needs the resort for a vacation."

"No problem," I tried to console my family members. "We don't have to depend on the company all the time. We will go to the island anyway."

"How?" demanded my oldest son.

"I can afford to pay for the accommodation and all other expenses," I answered defiantly.

"It's not the same," complained my youngest.

"Yes, it's not the same," my wife added. "We're used to staying in the bungalow the way we like it. We took pride in it. No reservation, no regulations, and we were free to bring as many people as we wanted."

Disappointment also stormed through the office. Every one complained about the decision.

"That's not fair. They're not supposed to cut expenditures this way," protested Andy, as if he owned 50 percent of the company's stocks. "I'm going to bring this matter to the attention of head office in New York."

"We're going to miss the sea breeze, the deep-sea fishing, and the snorkeling," others grumbled.

The only person that didn't complain was Pujo, a supervisor. He is an ordinary guy who isn't obsessed with modern activities. We always refer to him as a poor soul who never has fun. All he knows is work. He spends every vacation in his hometown in Central Java, getting together with villagers.

"Not my cup of tea," he always replied when asked why he turned down his trip to the bungalow.

Now with everybody complaining, I tried to find out how he felt about the situation. "I don't know about you guys," he said in his usual tone, "but I personally don't miss a thing."

"Lucky you," I said sourly, thinking that he didn't have a sympathetic bone in his body. He seemed to be oblivious to the unrest around him.

"Not that I'm selfish," he continued knowingly. "But, c'mon, I have never known how it feels to be at a luxury island resort. That's why I don't miss it. You never miss what you never had."

Instead of going to an island, I decided to drive my family to my hometown in West Sumatra. Along the way, I began to think that Pujo was lucky. He didn't know much about the good things so he didn't miss much. His way, there is not much room for disappointment. I wish my family could adopt his way of life. The trouble is, we have known too much.

-- Carl Chairul