Trina was new, sharp, and fast.
She loved templates because templates felt safe. When you’re new, “safe” is a survival strategy. You don’t want to make mistakes. You don’t want to look slow. You just want to prove you deserve the seat.
One afternoon, her manager said, “Send the client an update.”
Trina nodded, opened the last update, changed the date, attached the file, and hit send. Two hours later, the client replied: “Thanks. But this doesn’t answer what we asked.”
Trina stared at the email and whispered, “Aray.”
Have you ever moved fast… then realized you were running in the wrong direction?
When speed becomes wrong
I’ve seen that moment so many times—the moment you realize speed can still be wrong. You can be efficient and still miss the point, because the point was never written down clearly in the first place.
That’s what curiosity protects.
Not curiosity as “personality.” Not curiosity as “mahilig magtanong.” Curiosity as a work skill that keeps you from doing beautiful wrong work.
What happens when curiosity goes missing
Curiosity doesn’t disappear because people don’t care.
It disappears when people get pressured and try to look competent. I’ve done this too. When I’m rushing, I sometimes treat work like a checklist: deliver, send, move on.
But checklist work has a quiet danger. You can finish tasks all day and still fail to move the outcome.
You become productive… without being useful.
The second attempt that finally hit the target
The next time her manager asked for an update, Trina didn’t open a template first.
She asked, “Ma’am, quick check—what does the client need to decide after reading this?”
Her manager paused like the question pulled her out of autopilot. “Good. They need to approve the revised scope. Highlight the changes and the impact on timeline.”
Same task. Different target.
And once the target becomes clear, the work feels lighter. You stop decorating outputs and start building something that helps someone decide.
Another scene I can’t forget: the “urgent” request
This one happened in an operations team I worked with.
A supervisor walked in and said, “Guys, urgent ito. I need the report today.” The room changed instantly—people started scrambling, grabbing old files, copying last week’s formats, trying to look fast.
Then one junior staff member—quiet, usually polite—raised a hand and asked, “Sir, quick check. Urgent compared to what? If we can only finish one part today, ano yung pinaka-critical?”
The supervisor stopped mid-sentence. You could see him recalibrating. “Good point. Focus on the client-facing summary. Yung deep dive, tomorrow na.”
That question wasn’t rude.
It was responsible.
What I now think curiosity really is
I used to think curiosity was optional. Parang bonus trait ng “smart people.”
Now I see it as a discipline: you notice a gap, and you refuse to fill it with guessing. You don’t let assumptions drive the work, even when everyone is moving fast and acting like things are obvious.
Curiosity is what makes work feel less like compliance and more like craft.
The loop I’m trying to practice
This is the simple loop I keep coming back to—not as a rule, but as a reset.
Notice → Name → Ask → Test
I notice what feels unclear or too smooth. I name what I don’t understand yet. I ask one question that reduces the fog. Then I test what I learned with a small next step.
It sounds simple, but it changes the emotional feel of work. You stop feeling like you’re chasing. You start feeling like you’re steering.
Three questions I return to when I’m about to guess
When I catch myself slipping into autopilot, these questions bring me back.
I ask, “What are we really trying to solve?” because tasks are often disguises for problems.
I ask, “What does success look like for you?” because “good” is never universal—it’s always context.
And I ask, “What would make this useful to the next person?” because most work is for someone downstream who needs to decide, approve, act, or explain.
These questions don’t make you slow.
They make you accurate.
If you want a practical companion piece
Sometimes you are curious, but you freeze in the moment—especially when you’re new and you don’t want to sound difficult.
I wrote a short guide you can keep nearby as a script: Ask Better Questions (Even When You’re New). It turns curiosity into clarity using one simple pattern: Output. Standard. Success.
Not a sermon. Just a tool—if you want to try the shift.
If you’re building a business and you are playing to win…
Let’s install one shift that moves metrics.
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