Tag: workaholics

Up, up, and away

It was a bright and clear day. Great outdoors, but I had a lot of reading to do and some work to catch up on. Just the idea of staying tied to my computer when I could free myself and chase the air, made me sulk. I wished I was asleep instead.

As I sat on the bed unmotivated even by the brilliant book in front of me, I decided to grab some coffee. And thus began my awakening. After a quick search for the perfect restaurant for lunch, I started gulping down my liquid wake up call and finished my work. A day’s work done in a few hours.

Delatorre’s was perfect for authentic Italian food. Would recommend it, in case you’re ever in Pleasanton, California.

Awakening

 

Situations

Rushing emotion threatened to betray her resolution.

He hadn’t noticed. She’d been around, though, lurking behind the water cooler, perched at her desk, throwing side glances each time he paused for a drink or walked by to the men’s room.

She’d pined to talk to him, to express her desires and disappointments, to have him listen and agree. Yet a craven lass she was. Colleagues knew naught of the turmoil she waged within, and none cared enough to care either.

Bottling up all her impulses, she remained mute and desolated, unable to ask her boss for the vacation she deserved.

Humans are weird

We are incredible in talent, but also stupid and silly and incorrigible all the time.

Including me, of course.

As an individual, I have expectations. I want people to treat me a certain way, speak with respect, listen as I speak, acknowledge when I offer help, and recognise my work when it’s prudent.

It’s a natural tendency—expectations.

But what we often forget is that others expect the same things we expect of them. I’d get angry when someone overshadows my voice during a discussion. However, when I’m doing the talking, I fail to understand that I overshadow others myself.

We get frustrated when our supervisors don’t recognise our efforts, but when it comes to appreciating someone else for the support they’ve offered us, it seems to minuscule to even mention it.

We don’t see the efforts of others as much as we see our own. We overestimate our own importance while underestimating others’. As we shrug it off as unworthy of a mention or consideration, we come off as arrogant and unreasonable.

That’s the killer of relationships. We become condescending, faltering in our ability to notice others and appreciate their favours, devaluing them, and at last driving them away from our lives.

The way we sometimes treat our parents is a good example. Though aware of all their sacrifices, we still brush them away as if it’s their duty. It’s the same with colleagues. We work for the same employer, and each has their duties. Regardless, it’s essential to take a moment to appreciate those who go a step further to fulfil their duties even by making personal sacrifices.

Not only do they deserve it, but they also expect it. I know I would if it were me. After all, I’m human and I’m weird.

Jobs

I walk to work every morning. It’s a short, yet painful, trudging along uneven paths alongside heavy vehicles and motorbikes that zap by on full throttle.

But I shouldn’t complain. Because every day I see someone who deserves to spend an entire day nestled in a well-furnished, air-conditioned, room pitying himself.

He’s a family man in his late fifties, by the looks of him. I see him quite early in the morning—about 7:30 am—so judging by his eyes, he works all night. His job is to stand in front of a restaurant, wave a baton, and usher ongoing vehicles to stop by for a meal. The restaurant pays him to be their traffic generator.

This hotel is on the national highway (or freeway), and so there are thousands of vehicles—lorries, private cars, motorbikes—passing by every night. And because it’s dark, his baton lights up like Luke Skywalker’s Lightsaber.

It’s his job. It’s fine. It’s tiring, but he gets paid. He stands all night, but he gets paid. It’s a menial job, but it’s only one in many such jobs.

I understand, and so does everyone else who walks or whizzes past him every day. But I don’t understand why he waves to passing vehicles on broad daylight, trying to usher the most unlikeliest of drivers.

Often thinking about him, I’ve concluded he does it out of practice. He’s so used to trying to attract motorists that he doesn’t even realise the futility of waving at bicyclists at 8 in the morning. Sometimes he stands there, swaying half-asleep, yet waving his baton hoping someone would pull over.

No one would pull over.

As I pass him everyday, I see quivering within him a soul that triggers on the border of giving up. It’s as if there’s no longer hope and liveliness left in his bereft life.

I hate my work sometimes, but I don’t hate my job. Though on some days I don’t even feel like going to work, I know there’s always a reason for me to go. Something pulls me forward, encouraging me to keep one foot in front of the other. It’s hard to find motivated days at times, but I know they’re there. Because on a deeper level, I still find meaning in what I do.

He doesn’t.

And seeing him live such a mechanical life, waving his arms like a madman, sleepless, lifeless, and soul-less, puts so many things in perspective. Not everyone has the luxury to do what they’d like. Life thrusts on some of us a fate they wouldn’t even wish on their vilest enemy. It’s the reality of our world, a harsh undesirable reality.

If we realise that, perhaps we’d be more thankful for what we do have.