Wednesday, July 25


I’ve been working nearly 8 years with the same company, and I am still the same subservient slave that I was since the day that I got here. I am working with people who I feel don’t deserve where they are, and maybe I don't deserve to be where I am anyhow, but one person in particular has become such a clever ass that he gets his way with everyone, beats the shite out of me every time, treats me and everybody else like shite, not all the time but majorly, and there he is enjoying what he could squeeze out of the firm, before our very eyes. And the rest of us are like hostages in a movie, trying to be jolly good and obedient, all shackled up to a tree, unable to move, fear gripping us all over, us helplessly watching our very own corporate ghosts repeatedly vandalized, threatened and trampled upon---as we wait only for our caped heroes to rescue us from the eventual throes of morbid death. The horror and the pathos of it.
But one might ask, how come I never moved out and moved on, so then I wouldn’t be this ornery middled-aged woman complaining about things, and instead be climbing up the corporate ladder, dressing up to the nines, driving a town car around with cappuccino in one hand, and the steering wheel on the other, while flicking her cigarette out the window with her perfectly chiseled blood-red manicured nails, and dreaming up big dreams for herself? Yes indeed, whatever happened to me all these years? Last time I checked, I had high hopes and a promising future. But then I got kids and I got grounded here. For life. Today, I got split-ends on my hair and a plain, pallid face full of worry lines. I have no regrets about it really, and I am absolutely sure now that I have wanted this. But there are buts and ifs that egg me on to consider how and why everything stopped there. Or so it seemed. Well, one would wisely say, it’s all about choices, my poor dear. And I can’t agree more.
But I never thought myself a poor dear. Deep inside me I know that I have something that I can hold on to as my strength, or my redeeming virtue. But somehow I am not one to really wallow on them, or to publicize my accomplishments. I smile inside when I do believe I have done the right thing, but always—and I do not know how I’ve managed to go about life with this---I always fear that exulting too highly or openly on what I have done might make me fail twice as much. In my mind, I am sometimes guilty of condescension towards other people, that whatever they are proudly blabbering about today is archaic to me, I have been there, done that, read that, heard that. Yet, I can never be too rude to tell them off. And that is why in the course of my silence and gentle acquiescence, I am being the one construed as old-fashioned, outmoded, or maybe even dumb? Ouch. But that’s my sad reality. I only blame myself and nobody else. Because really, life goes around and we can't mope around hoping that change will take us under its wings. I am so very well aware of that.
I have a small worlds where I can express my creativity, and reel in it without having to make an excuse of who I am. However the idea of putting myself up or my abilities for sale is still new to me. Yes, even at this age my self-confidence is very elementary. Many times I have met people who tell me great things about myself, and I do believe in them. The candidness of their appreciation towards me is really quite embarrassing at times for me. I know I do deserve it. But, I hate press releases. My main assumption is that, there is always someone better, greater, more than what I am. And goodness, how I clap my heart out when I find out about something that is far greater, that gives me joy, because I know that I can strive higher. Maybe that is what keeps me grounded. Or untrusting? It may be, it seems to always be. However, for once, I want to learn how to take it graciously. Without excusing my candor. Without caring how I would look, as I jump around like a little girl shouting at the top of my lungs “ I am good, I am good!”…
Related Posts Plugin for WordPress, Blogger...