Growing Grey Together

When I look back on the shape of my career, it does not appear as one straight professional path, but as a series of openings I learned to recognize by stepping through them. I was born and raised in the Philippines and moved to Canada in 1974 at eighteen years old, carrying with me a willingness to work hard, adjust quickly, and make myself useful wherever I landed. I did not arrive with a polished vision of the future, and for many years I did not imagine my career would one day belong inside the mining industry. I simply followed the work, the people, the skills I was acquiring, and the paths that appeared whenever I had already proven I could handle more than I had first been asked to do.

My first chapter began in 1979, after completing a Data Entry Operator course and being hired immediately by a real estate company. I started in data entry, but those early years taught me that reliability can become its own kind of advancement—when people begin to trust not only what you do, but how you do it. Through hard work, perseverance, and strong relationships with my boss and colleagues, I was encouraged to return to school to study programming. That encouragement changed the direction of my work. I moved into supervision, became responsible for the Data and Word Processing Department, and eventually took on confidential and complex responsibilities as Executive Assistant to the President of the Computer Department. I held that role with pride for many years, learning the value of precision, discretion, and leadership long before I had language for what those qualities would mean in the rest of my career.

When that company entered receivership, I had to begin again—though beginning again was already becoming familiar to me. A former client hired me because he knew my workmanship, loyalty, and dedication, and that opportunity became another place where I could prove myself through demanding and intricate work. The company began as a mailing house and marketing firm and later evolved into a dot‑com business in 1995, placing me inside another changing industry. When the dot‑com bubble burst, that company collapsed too, and once again I found myself without a job—not because I had failed, but because the world around the work had shifted.

After having my daughter, I returned to school in 2003 to study Medical Transcription and later graduated with honours from BCIT as a Medical Office Assistant – which I still consider to be one of my proudest achievements -hoping to move into healthcare in a computer or IT‑related role. Privatization changed that possibility, and even though my career unfolded elsewhere, I never considered the education wasted, because every discipline strengthened the accuracy, patience, and technical competence that would eventually support my work in mining.

Long before I understood mining or exploration in any deep way, I was fascinated by how public companies worked, how shares moved, and how ordinary decisions could become financial opportunities or regrets. Around the time I was with the accounting firm, people were talking about the Tim Hortons IPO and encouraging one another to participate. But I hesitated. Looking back, it feels almost silly that I dismissed what could have been lucrative and fun, but the hesitation taught me something. I did not want to stay on the outside of that world, hearing about opportunities only after they had passed.

My actual entry into mining came through people. In 2002, I covered a maternity leave with a junior exploration company called MBMI Resource Inc. For a short period of time, I proved my expertise as a secretary and as an all‑around temporary employee with excellent computer and organizational skills. Before my relief period ended, the Managing Director, David Tafel, wished he could keep me on and said that if the company did well in the coming years, they wanted me back as a full‑time employee because I had proven myself to be a strong and reliable contributor.

In 2004, I covered another maternity leave with an accounting firm in Yaletown. It was meant to be temporary, but as often happened in my working life, the role expanded once people realized I could do more. I knew IT support, backups, systems, and office administration, and when I saw work being outsourced that I could handle myself, I said so. A temporary assignment became harder for them to release, and soon a new position was created for me.

Around the same time, David tracked me down and approached me and began asking me to consider joining him permanently. I had already signed a contract elsewhere, but he kept inviting me to lunch, kept returning to the conversation, and kept making it clear that he wanted me on his team. I was not prepared to change course again, but David and I already had a working connection that mattered enormously to me. I felt at ease with him. I respected him, and he respected me. I could speak openly with him about professional and personal matters without fear—something I do not take lightly in any workplace.

During one of those conversations, we made a pact that we would “grow grey together.” It was partly a promise and partly a practical understanding between two people close in age who were choosing to trust each other for the long term. More than twenty years later, we have done exactly that. We have worked together through changes, pressures, responsibilities, and ordinary days, and the relationship has become not only a fulfilling and supportive working partnership, but also a friendship built on loyalty, honesty, and mutual respect.

On my first day at MBMI Resources, filling in for a maternity leave, I was thrilled to discover that one of the company’s exploration projects was based in the Philippines. It struck a personal chord. Growing up there, I was always curious about how communities responded to mining activity in their own backyards. Hearing that the Board of Directors had visited the project site, met with local residents, and seen firsthand how geologists and community members worked together to shape exploration plans that safeguarded their land made me feel genuinely proud.

It was also here that I realized my curiosity about the markets in general made mining appealing in a way I had not expected. Exploration companies lived close to the market, and the work required not only administrative discipline but also an understanding of corporate development, how companies raise money, how investors think and make decisions, corporate governance and public communications. My role as Executive Assistant and IT professional allowed me to bring together the skills I had gathered across earlier chapters of my life. The regulatory filings were challenging—particularly the preparation and filing of documents through SEDAR and with the United States Securities and Exchange Commission—but I enjoyed the precision they demanded. I understood the seriousness of the work and the importance of accuracy.

In a public company, details are not small things. They are part of trust.

Unfortunately, MBMI was unable to obtain the required permit, largely due to political challenges within both the industry and the government. It was a disappointing moment for all of us, and after so much hope and excitement, it felt like the loss of a project that held tremendous potential for the Philippines.

Over the next twenty years together, our small group carved out a solid place in the exploration world — weathering market swings, shifting commodity prices, and the ever‑changing landscape of geopolitical risk and mineral prospectivity. We learned early on that success looks different at every stage, and that embracing uncertainty is part of the journey.

Those years gave us the confidence and capability to take on more companies, including MBMI Resources, Piper Capital, Garson Gold, Centurion Minerals, Falcon Gold, and Portofino Resources (now LatAm Lithium). What carried us through each venture was the same unwavering foundation: hard work, dedication, and a focus on delivering shareholder value.

For many years, my contributions happened behind the scenes, which suited the kind of professional I had become. I liked being the person who knew where things were, how systems worked, what needed to be filed, who needed to be reached, and what had to happen before anyone else could move forward. Yet as the years passed, my role expanded beyond the office. I began travelling to conferences and trade shows, including events in Toronto, helping in the booth and representing the company in front of prospective investors. That brought a different kind of personal development, because I had to move from supporting conversations in the background to participating in them directly.

The first times I stood in those rooms, I was aware of how male‑dominated the crowd could be. I could speak with shareholders over the phone from behind my desk, where my knowledge and calmness came easily, but standing at a booth and speaking face to face required another level of confidence. I had to explain the company, its future exploration plans, and the importance of shareholders with clarity and professionalism. Over time, I learned that I could do it—how to listen carefully, how to answer honestly, how to stay informed, and how to carry myself in a room where I might not have seen many women doing the same work. Comfort did not arrive all at once; it came through practice, preparation, feeling supported, and the repeated experience of realizing that I knew more than I had first allowed myself to believe.

Being a woman in mining has meant learning to trust my voice in rooms where I once felt intimidated, but it has also meant recognizing the value of supportive leadership and healthy workplace culture. I have always needed to feel safe, respected, and surrounded by people who create a positive environment. When those values are present, I can give my best and feel genuinely connected to the work. When there is disrespect, negativity, or a lack of integrity, I feel it immediately. My non‑negotiable values are respect, honesty, professionalism, and a workplace culture where people are supported rather than diminished. Perhaps that is why my long working relationship with David has remained so meaningful. It is not only that we kept working together—it is that the work continued inside a relationship where trust was protected.

There were funny moments too. I still remember one financing for Falcon Gold when a shareholder in Toronto had quite obviously taken a liking to me. David knew it, I knew it, and apparently everyone else knew it too. When it came time to raise money, David decided I should probably be the one making the call because my chances of getting a private placement “yes” were likely better than his. I laughed and thought, “You want me to do what?” but over the years I discovered that there were advantages to being one of the few women in those rooms. People remembered me, conversations often came easily, and relationships formed naturally. In a business built as much on trust as on geology, those relationships matter—and this story still makes us smile to this day.

Outside the office, another part of me has always been alive and active. People may know me as organized, calm, caring, and precise, but I also love speed, movement, dancing, water, and adventure. I learned to ride a motorcycle because I enjoyed the thrill of it. I took salsa classes because I love to dance and express myself through movement. I purchased a Sea‑Doo with proceeds from MBMI and take it out in the summertime with the same excitement I bring to anything that makes me feel fully alive. There have been times on the water when I went farther than planned—fast enough to feel like I was flying, hydroplaning across the surface—and then realized I was not entirely sure where I had ended up. I followed another Sea‑Doo back, laughing at myself afterward, because that combination of courage, curiosity, and occasional miscalculation is also part of who I am.

My twin sister and I are different in that way. She is more likely to sit with a book, while I want to be outside moving, seeing something, trying something, or planning the next experience. I have gone parasailing, spent time riding motorcycles, gone out on ATVs, and loved being active with my family. I still think about skydiving. My great‑nephew has already said he would go with me, while my sister thinks the idea is crazy. I may start with a simulator in Bellingham, where the wind is supposed to be powerful enough to give me a taste of the experience, but the dream itself remains alive. I do not see adventure as something that belongs only to youth. I see it as a way of staying open.

Family has always been at the centre of my life, even when work was demanding. Raising my children remains one of my proudest accomplishments, and becoming a grandmother has brought a joy that feels pure, lively, and deeply fulfilling. I treasure the time I spend bonding with my grandchildren, and with a new grandbaby just born, I feel the fullness of a life that has held work, responsibility, friendship, family, and pleasure together.

Writing these reflections brought many memories back to me—both past and present—and reminded me how powerful it can be to spend time alone with my thoughts. Reflection has a way of lifting and grounding me at the same time. It made me think about how many times I welcomed new beginnings without knowing where they would lead, how important it has been to keep learning, and how much my natural happiness has helped me stay young at heart. As I move closer to retirement, I find myself becoming more creative with life, paying closer attention to friends, family, laughter, long walks, dancing, and the simple moments that give shape to ordinary days.

When I think about the next generation of women entering mining, I want them to know that their courage matters. They are more open, more confident, and more willing to voice their beliefs and values without hesitation, and that gives me hope for the industry. I would tell them to ask questions, learn the business, understand shareholders—how they are the backbone of a company—and stay informed about everything connected to the work, especially in exploration. I would tell them to speak with honesty and transparency, because integrity carries a person through difficult rooms and complicated moments. Most of all, I would tell them not to wait for permission to lead.

At this phase in my life and career, I find myself feeling grateful more than anything else. Grateful for the people who believed in me, for the opportunities I almost missed and the ones I was brave enough to take, for a career that taught me more than I ever expected to learn, and grateful for a promise made over lunch more than twenty years ago between two people who agreed they would “grow grey together” and somehow, quietly and faithfully, did exactly that.