Tag Archives: Workaholism

My Least Favorite People (Fine, My Pet Prejudices)

1. Doctors. This ‘noble’ profession stayed noble for me only as far as the parents of my best friend. Every medicine man & woman after that, has looked at me and my family and seen only a big, fat wallet. Scum.

2. Pedigreed puppies. It’s bad enough that this country values degrees & diplomas over knowledge & understanding. Then there is the fact that most of these branded institutions serve as nothing more than factories churning out certifications by crateful. Add to that the lack of age/experience stipulation which means the average age of the products from one of these institutions is 23 (and the associated immaturity & brashness). And finally there is the idolization that the entire country heaps on them, treating them like God’s gift to this universe, the workforce, the dating scene and the marriage market.Their attitude, their work ethic and the people they are (if there is anything human beyond the degree/diploma) leave so much to be desired. So very much.

3. Male chauvinists, mama’s boys & the typical Indian hypocritical males. Need I say more? I don’t think they deserve more than these words.

4. Workaholics, especially if they are senior to you in an organization. If you need me to explain this, chances are that you’re one yourself and then, I have nothing to say to you except: GET A LIFE!! (and stop torturing other people for your lack thereof!)

5. Delhi men: Male chauvinists. Hypocrites. Overprivileged brats. Boors. Road rage drivers. Presumptous, pompous p*!@&s.  And on occasion, rapists. What, really I need to say more? You’re from that bloody city, aren’t you?

To this distinguished list, I now add – House Brokers: The pimps of real estate, the scavengers of the worst of this city – space. I loathe you, I despise you, I think you have to be the most horrible creatures if, of all the things you can do, you choose to do this.

That’s a lot of people to wish were extinct, isn’t it? Well, it’s a shitty world.

Imbalance

And my work has been snatching away…viciously…from the rest of my life. Time. Energy. Enthusiasm. Joie de vivre.

But this blog has the fewest entries. Isn’t that ironic? No, its not. It just isn’t funny anymore. Or fun.

Idiotic frenzies

What kind of an lame-brained idiot works on a report all week, plans it so as to finish on time on a Friday, then does, shuts down and goes out for a moonlight cruise and dinner……remembers mid-way that they forgot to email that report out? Someone like me, that’s who.

So what did I do next? Yelped, jumped up and down in my chair and generally fretted till my friends agreed to split and take me back to office. Got to office after midnight, called up some ten thousand people (no actually only one and she laughed) to check how to get into the locked building, managed to get in and switch on my comp.

Then I sent the email. And I received a reply,

Whatever are you doing in office at this hour on a Friday night?

Being an idiot that’s what.

I must really stop lecturing other people on not become workaholics. I couldn’t remember my own boardline number to call the security guard to unlock the gate; I had to pull out my visiting card to check. Fine sight I must have made standing on the sidewalk at midnight trying to read my own visiting card.

I sleep badly (if at all) and when I do, I have nightmares of screaming clients, graphs and numbers looming bigger and bigger over me and angry-red marked calendars hurtling at me at top speed. Just kidding. I have nightmares that are too awful to remember and I’m only glad to get up and come back to work in the morning. Except that I only get nightmares when I’m stressed. And then sleep-walk through the day.

I……need……a…….break. Not a tea break, a smoke break, a lunch break or a loo break. I need a break from my job.

Antisocial workaholic

When you say you are my friend, at least take 2 minutes out of your busy schedule to call me at a time like this.

Who will believe me when I say I haven’t had even 30 seconds to grab a cup of tea? No one, least of all the person who said the above.

I’m not able to call my best friend when she’s in a crisis.
I haven’t managed to attend the wedding of ANY of my closest friends.
I wasn’t present at the birth of my nephew, niece or godson (the first baby born to a close friend). In fact it was weeks before I got down to visiting the baby and the not-so-new mama.
I pulled out a day’s leave for mum’s operation. But I haven’t been able to accompany her on the follow-up visits to the doctor.
I cut short phone calls to run off for a meeting or lunch or because I’m entering office. Or because I’m just too dead tired at the end of the day to speak.

People in my life have been complaining that I spend so little time with them. Mostly I suspect, they’ve just stopped caring. It worries me. I wonder is it worth it? I mean, its not even like I’m an extremely successful trailblazer. I’m an average working person in an average job, that’s all.

The easy answer is that no, of course not….nothing matters more than the people in one’s life. And yet, callously, cynically all I can say is that work is the only area of my life that has given me consistent rewards for the effort I put in. Relationships, people….all of those have been gambles. Either I’ve hit jackpot or I’ve bombed miserably. Even the jackpot…there’s no guarantee how long it will last before it turns into a ticking bomb.

But I am afraid I’m turning into an antisocial workaholic. Damn, it isn’t even that I love my work all that much. And yet, I feel good about myself at work, while the people I love make me feel like a failure. But seriously, that message I had this morning has washed out all the euphoria of my good work of the past month.

Stat-check

There are days I hate my job for how little time it leaves me for the rest of my life. And other days, I’m grateful for my job for the very same reason.

This has been a week, month, no….six whole months of mad work. Time has passed and I never even realised that its been nearly a year-and-a-half since I signed the offer letter. That’s longer than any job I’ve held. Or any relationship I’ve had.

There have been disappointments, annoyances. I’ve had moments of such strain that I thought I’d break and just throw in the towel and resign. And known I couldn’t do that because I’d be running away. And to where?

I found some friends. I get attached to people pretty quick and it always shakes me up when a colleague resigns, even if I’m not that close to them. I’m a creature of habit I guess and it is painful to not have a face I’m used to seeing everyday, around anymore.

In a few months, every single person who comprised the office when I joined, would have left. And that scares me. Because I realise now I’ve become part of the fabric here. One of the ‘people who comprise this place’, one of the ‘old hands’ so to speak. That makes me feel good too. And wonder where my restlessness has gone.

Yesterday I was in the office late, very late. Around 7:30 pm, the hunger pangs hit me so hard, I couldn’t think straight and I walked around to some of my colleagues digging for a biscuit or something to stuff into me (I promised to wear a signboard around my neck saying “Will work for food” from next week). Then I ordered some food. Half an hour later (after a colleague-friend had saved my life with a pack of biscuits) my food arrived, right in the middle of an intense discussion with my director.

He smiled at me and said, “Go and eat. I know you’re very hungry.”

That made me feel good, it did.

I don’t know when I passed on from feeling over-awed/scared/rebellious towards senior people. But I don’t anymore. I don’t see them as authority figures, more like…well, managers, directors, just that. It is a good feeling. To respect without fearing.

And finally, having an absorbing, demanding job is probably what has kept me from going into depression over being single. Don’t laugh…its happening to at least 3 women I know in their late twenties and they’re so close and similar to me, I’m wary that its going to hit me any minute.

For the time being though, I’m pretty okay with life. I have a good relationship with my job and it keeps me happy.

Crazy Tuesday

I am slowly but surely sinking in the quicksand of work. I initially called it a ‘sea of work’ but I realised I can swim. This is exactly like quicksand, the more you struggle, the faster you go down.

Maybe I should stop telling people about my ‘dream job’. Every time I do, I get hit by an avalanche like this.

And just yesterday after a great evening, I fell asleep thinking that my last thoughts of the day should never be about work….*groaannn*

 Why doesn’t someone find a way to extend the day to 36 hours? Or even 48 hours? How do people manage to blog and hold a job down? How indeed?

Damn….Tuesdays are always a bloody killer.

S.O.S.

What kind of a loser works marathon workdays every day of the week including SATURDAY and SUNDAY????

…….a loser like me……

12 hours sitting hunched over a computer.

3 hours twisted like a pretzel or performing contortions to fit all body parts into a cubic inch of public transport space.

1 hour spent trying to iron out the kinks in my back and revive angry muscles tightened up in a sulk.

8 hours trying to forget I’m alive….rolling over and playing dead…what everyone calls sleep and what I call adrenalin-induced low.

Save me someone…I thought I was a good swimmer but I’m drowning…

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