Tag: office

Growing Up…

growing-up

We all have to go through that unpleasant funnel called growing up. It’s irreversible and inevitable.

It was great being young and unwitting. It was easier to spend all evenings watching Tom chase Jerry or Coyote the Roadrunner.

I remember when I was in primary school I’d come home tired, and sleep for an hour or two. And then I’d wake up to television, with tea and baked goodness on my side.

And growing up only made me realise that that’s how I gained weight in my mid region.

It was fun when I didn’t have to worry about anything but my homework. Whereas now I worry about everything from clocking into office on time, finishing my tasks without lags, and eating something healthy for each meal.

Until a few years ago, my life had seemed perfect. I had taken everything for granted — without caring for my health, making enough for a living, or saving up for a future. It now feels like a miracle that I once all that mattered to me was getting strong tea and stronger coffee.

And now, though, I can’t help but notice when people litter on the streets. It bothers me that 10-year-olds have their heads in a screen when they should have their heads in the clouds.

I’m now inclined to think of the big stuff. I’m wishing the ozone didn’t have holes, hoping humanity wouldn’t decimate itself, and wondering why aliens haven’t done that already.

As sad as it sounds to shed the innocence of a childhood gone by, I’ve grown to grow concerned about everything around me. It now matters to me that the world faces a crisis. It makes me wonder how it would affect me. It makes me a little aware, a little knowledgeable, and, at times, a little bitchy.

Until last year I didn’t know how a business works after launching a product. Since then, I’ve seen people coming up with new tactics, new products, and even new ways to fail.

I’ve been there and done that, but I’ve also been around others who did the same. I’m no longer that awkward kid with a dazed look. And that comes only when you’ve lived through ignorance and broken through the barriers of youth.

Youth is wonderful. Everyone should experience it. But growing up is a vaccination everyone should swallow to survive.

It’s That Day Again

Last day of the month. And we all know what that means.

A month-long they spend toiling. Shuffling into the office each morning, hatred oozing from a not-so-cheery hello and the compulsion to work.

Every dying ember of a Friday afternoon would feel like the beginning of a carnival. And Sunday evenings, a dousing of spirits.

They bear it all because there comes a day — the last day of the month — when they would make up for all they’ve lost. A day to give money away to an unknown face behind computer screens and cash counters. A face, though smiles, relies on secret one-time passwords to check they aren’t cheats.

All that to acquire material stuff.

“A hat with a lion on it! I so need it to show off to my friends.”

“That grey converse looks good. I could alternate it with my blue and black ones.”

“Wow, I have a shirt that’d go so well with that scarf.”

“It’s almost December, shouldn’t I get a new pair of gloves? My old ones are…old.”

“He got a phone and I need to get at least a new cover for mine.”

For the next two days, shopping malls and online sites will flood with young people. They’d spend hard-earned remuneration on flip flops designed like Mickey Mouse.

red-carpet

And as they surf stall after stall, retailers stalk them with delightful deals. Buy one and get something free. Ah, yes! I’ll take a pair of designer shoes, please. And a cake of soap to go with that. It’s good it’s free. I need that soap because I can’t get it elsewhere.

And since they bought something and got something free with that, they get another offer: Shop for more than 5 percent of your income and get 2 percent off!

Well, why the hell not?

At the end of the day, spending all that money makes them feel so much secure and good about themselves. If that’s what it takes to take on Monday at the work, then so be it.

Dear Colleague,

I just met you a while ago.

We stepped into the same lift. I was getting back to my place having escaped from an impromptu gossip gathering at the food court. It was 11.30 in the morning, and I had a memo to send out before lunch. That’s when I ran into you. And if I remember right, you were just signing into work.

I smiled. Not because I was happy to see you, but because I believed in keeping up with social niceties. I never thought for a second that you’d take it assume it was an invitation to make small talk. Alas, my bad.

Sure, I’d be thrilled to hear about your trip to the western coast of Australia. Oh, so they’re 6 hours ahead of us? Wow! Those bastards could’ve warned us about the twin towers, huh? I feigned laughter, forcing myself to look stupider than your narration.

And then I realised that the lift had stayed stuck on the 9th floor, and me with you.
As you moved on to the story of the lasagna you made last night, I chanced a glance at my watch. What had started as an innocent break had transitioned into forty-five minutes of wasted time. You didn’t notice, however, and I locked arms across my chest praying for the lift to move. I’d have only been happier if the lift had broken a chord and hurled us both to the ground. At least then you’d stop talking.

From the greasy dinner, you went on about your love life. Oh, why wouldn’t I love to hear how the hot guy on the block asked you out? And I’d be happy for you if the two of you hit it off well. No no, I care about your date night. And no, it wouldn’t be inappropriate at all for you to ask about his previous relationship.

I’m not sure if you had noticed my tortured smile, but I had one plastered on my mouth ever since my first smile. How I regretted getting into the same lift as you. But you go ahead. I’d love to hear you talk about… something.

And a while later, the lift started moving, taking me — a dragging inch at a time — to a place far away from you. We stopped on your floor, and you were oblivious as usual.

Isn’t this your stop? Oh, shoot! Shame I couldn’t hear more about your new boyfriend. He seems like a nice guy. Oh yes, we should catch up sometime. Coffee? Sure. This afternoon? Er, well, I can’t think of anything else I’m doing, so–ok. Ciao.

As the lift closed again, I breathed a sigh of relief. Before I knew it, the lift had reached the topmost floor — mine. I walked back to my place, too drained to finish that memo, but lunch was around the corner, and I had to get it done soon.

For the next fifteen minutes, my fingers flew over the keyboard. I hit send and leaned back on my chair when I heard my stomach rumbling.

Dragging myself to the lifts, I pressed the button for the ground floor. I had skipped breakfast and wish I hadn’t. As I walked into the dining hall, who should I run into but you!

Oh hello, how nice to see you again!

But I just met you a while ago.

Also published on Medium.