Tag: workaholics

Corporate promises

“But—”

Mason interrupted Peter in mid sentence. “No more discussions. You should leave.” Peter stood rooted, eyes welling up. Mason cut in. “Peter, don’t make me call security.”

Peter turned, and with his head low, walked out leaving the building that had been his office and the people who had been his family for the past seven years.

He’d been faithful in times good and bad. Even when the company declared near-bankruptcy, and the rats left the sinking ship, Peter had been there. He loved his job so much that he offered lifetime loyalty.

The company offered no such thing.

Rise up

The annual raise

raised the bar to own a home

have you interest?

Ebbing away

I woke up Sunday morning to a text message from my airlines. Online check-in had opened. It had arrived at four in the morning, 48 hours before my scheduled departure. And yet when I saw it, I felt nothing. I wasn’t thrilled, as I should’ve been. I no longer felt like jumping up and down.

I felt indifferent, instead, and even a little scared.

That sensation unnerved me. I couldn’t figure out why I wasn’t more happy about the one thing I had been looking forward to for the past two months. It was as if an unknown shroud hung over my face, shielding me from the joy I deserved.

Perhaps it was because I hadn’t packed yet, I thought. People often said how planning their trip increased their anticipation. And so I packed. I had already done a trial packing to assess my baggage limits so the actual packing didn’t take much time or effort.

Looking down at my bag, loaded and ready to fly, I still didn’t feel any different. The excitement of the last few days had ebbed away as water through my palms, leaving in its place just blotches on vacant places. All of sudden, this trip seemed longer than I had ever dreamed of. I gulped. So many new things to encounter—maybe a tad too many. From weather and food, to people and road ways, I’d face unfamiliarity in abundance and in quick succession. As good as it is for my inner being, I began to doubt if I could handle it well enough.

My roommates had gone away for the weekend, and so I was in my room alone looking through the window as the monsoon rains lashed against helpless weeds.

Had I gotten cold feet? I didn’t know that was possible.

Although this is my first major trip, it isn’t my first time travelling. And it isn’t my first time putting myself out there for new experiences. I love visiting unknown places, and would often picture myself hiking along scenic routes with a backpack on my shoulders and a dreamy look on my face.

What, then, was I so scared about—I didn’t know.

Sitting down, I tried to figure it out. When I asked myself what I felt, I answered: Anxious that I wouldn’t enjoy myself. At the same time, I worried that worrying about the trip would, in fact, lead to its downfall — a self-fulfilling prophesy of sorts. It seemed far-fetched, yes. But the nagging voice in my head wouldn’t go away.

My train of thoughts grew unsure. Sober though I was, I felt intoxicated as I stared at the list of Friends episodes I’d been watching. Friends made me feel a little better, but they didn’t solve my confusion. At that moment, I received a message from a colleague who’d travel with me: “check in opened”. Ah, this is a business trip after all.

“Saw.” I wrote back to her. And realising it’d seem rude to end it that way, I followed up with, “Let’s do it tomorrow?” She replied in the affirmative and I looked away from my phone. It was too distressing.

*Ping*

Her again. “I’m working on my presentation. Are you done yet?”

Huh?

Oh, I remembered. While being busy planning the fun part of the trip, I had forgotten the work part. My heart had been ruling all along, but my brain had woken up at last.
I’d be presenting in front of a gathering, and my mind reminded me I hadn’t prepared for it. We still had time, though, as my heart assured me—but practise always helps, argued the mind. All of a sudden, the cloud over my mind cleared. So that’s why I’d felt like a loser. I slapped my forehead. Sitting alone at home, I had let my thoughts wander way too much. It wasn’t the travelling that worried me. Instead, it was the business of the travel that had me worried.

Phew, I thought opening my presentation determined to finish it. One day to go. And some of the excitement crept back in.

Let’s go a trippin’

For a while now, I’ve been planning a trip. It’s for work so I already have my destination defined for me. That’s not bad, I now realise. In fact, that could be the best thing about the trip itself, because everything else is taking up so much of my energy and time. Boy, I’m glad I didn’t have to pinpoint the destination as well.

Let me backtrack a little and explain. I’m off on a business trip in August and I’ve been working my way all through July preparing myself. It’s kind of a big deal so I have to make sure that business during the trip goes well. Apart from that, I’ve been figuring out how best to enjoy myself during the trip. This one’s longer than all my previous business trips, so I’ll have some leisure to wander around.

Great, I thought. “I’m going to have so much fun.”

Except, planning for the fun part is far more hectic that I expected. I always imagined that when I had to plan a trip like this, I’d just throw some clothes in a backpack and go. That’s what I always told myself: Just go. But now that such a situation is upon me, I realise I can’t just go. I have to think about flights, layovers, immigration, baggage clearance—even water could become an issue. Phew. And if that weren’t enough, there’s the budget.

When I estimated my budget almost a month and a half ago, I had everything laid out in a TextEdit file. The numbers seemed clear, the dates, the time—I had even thought of the cost of food in flights. But then I delayed booking the flights, because I got busy at work. And when I opened the TextEdit file a couple of weeks later, everything seemed irrelevant to current prices. My flight rates has increased by $10. Sure, it didn’t seem like much, but when I saw that I could’ve spent that on a meal, instead, I understood how much of a role time plays in travel—even though time and travel don’t compound in reality.

Doubt creeped in next. Am I perhaps allocating too much from my pocket for a mere bicycle tour? The first time I looked at the tour, it looked wonderful: Good location, great views, and promising reviews. It would be such a great use of my time and money, I thought. My reasoning was sensible, too: I’d see so much of the city, enjoy some great food, meet a bunch of folks, and have a lot of fun—all in one glorious morning. Last night, however, my reasoning started to dwindle. Perhaps it’s better to just walk around the city by myself, I thought half awake. Again, the reason is that I didn’t book the tour right away, waiting two weeks instead. Again, putting too much time between desire and achievement waned my desire.

These are the big stuff. The little stuff should be easy. Or so I thought. But once I mapped out my itinerary, there were no small stuff. Even a commute from the airport to the hotel is a big decision. I can pick between the shortest route and the scenic route. I’d go scenic for sure if I’m alone—but I won’t be alone. Taking the scenic route would mean traversing for an extra 20 minutes at a good time and 45 minutes during traffic. We’d land late in the evening, so traffic is granted.

I’m torn between decisions. I still have a lot to do. Although I have to admit: even though planning for this trip has me pulling out my hair, I’m having one hell of a time figuring it all out. It’s my first experience making all my arrangements myself, and it’s made me a proper grown up. I feel mature. I now know I can take care of myself. I’ve always known I could, but this trip’s given me a chance to prove it—to myself.