Rebel without a clue, without a cause!

Here is the monitor, running a word game. Here are my eyelids, drooping. I stifle a yawn. I have been yawning since 9 am. It’s already late in the afternoon and I have been awake since god knows when. Yes, truth of the matter is, I spent my restday at home - if not caught in midthought or just typing my thoughts away on my notepad. Whew! (you can tell I'm suffering from a severe case of brain malfunction!)

For the past weeks, my desk in the office (just let me wallow in the fact that I have my own desk, will you?) is a complete jungle of papers, business documents, handouts, a black tumbler, charts, modules, candy wrappers here and there and a lot of pencils and pens buried somewhere among the wreckage. Last I checked, I had a corporate desk planner. It must still be here somewhere. But hell, who makes plans anyway?

The e-mail in front of me screams all the tasks I have to do and updates I need to take note of. All the new processes I have to churn out. You see that’s precisely it. I am supposed to turn out a bunch of work but my monitor reflects a creative piece! I have to read a lot of stuff, and in fact I have one certification exam tomorrow but I’m not bothered.

Over the years, I have shifted from being passionate, to morose, to indifferent and now I am just one corporate pain in the ass. My responsible self tells me to get my reports out, clear my desk of all the rubble and pull my act together.

Every now and then, all these reminds me of the cruel fact that in these dire times where unemployment abound and good jobs (not to mention good employers) are hard to come by, I should be thankful I’m still burning cushion behind this desk.

But see here, having this job is like eating the same dish 24/7. Hey one can only eat steak for so long until he finally throws up! But you see, this job (lately), to me, is not even steak! It’s like eating high-calorie, high in fat, oil-laden “Callos”! I mean, one has to die of heart attack sooner or later. I have been in the industry for years now yet I am too yellow to do anything about it.

Looking at my monitor and all this trash on my desk, I can’t help but be reminded of that innocent, fresh-out-of-taking calls face I wore the day I was handed my first task. It was a cloudy Monday morning.

“Anne. Here. I want you to photocopy 30 of these, back to back. Good? Good.”

I had two gargantuan folders on my right hand. Pen on my left hand. Knees shaking like hell and stomach churned because I was too scared of the boss. I kept staring at a jumble of letters on the papers I was holding which I could not make heads nor tails of.

“Uh.. Yes, J. Will do.”

Uhm… What was I supposed to do again? Photocopy whaaat? Back to back? Hey, they never showed this on those textbooks! No fair!

But of course, I had to find my way through the job. And that I did. (hoooray!)

I also remember that monumental white sheet with the office letterhead containing my very first pay slip as trainer. P????!!!

“Wow! I’m getting all this money?! Man!” I thought.

Five very amazing figures and I was flustered. I don’t know where I got that excitement from, but I sure as hell know that I don’t even look at my pay slips nowadays.

At first, owed to the fact that I haven’t had the feel of the job yet, I would blindly do whatever I was told me to do. Even if at times those tasks made me raise a questioning brow, I’d obey them.

I wasn’t confident then of the accuracy of my opinions back when I was still a subordiante,taking calls. After all, top honchos were always right. The big guys loved it and showed it by means of a promotion. Cool. I was made officer at 25. The whole office cheered me.

But as the days rolled on and the childlike idealism slowly lifted, I was made to see the hard, cold truth: Top management, just like anybody else, was prone to questionable decisions. I tried but my voice would not be suppressed. The applause dwindled to a hush.

Nevertheless, friendships were made.

As a young employee, I had youthful idealist issues. Back then, I couldn’t comprehend why transparency and honesty seemed to be alien words in the office. I couldn’t understand why freedom had to be suppressed and why certain people had to “kiss” major corporate asses.

Why the stupid smile when all they wanted to do was scream until the veins on their necks snapped? Why the kind words in front of the big bosses when they said the exact opposites the minute they stepped into their respective cubicles? Why wouldn’t they speak up if they knew that something was extremely wrong? I couldn’t understand. I still don’t.

Being hot blooded and passionate, I voiced out my views as much as I could. Naturally, I earned the irk of some superiors (good thing though, I dont report to them - my boss right now will always be incomparable!) and has thus been labeled a “corporate rebel”. I have learned, ever so painfully, that unconventional people had no places in the higher ups.

I also realized that people who dreamed of getting somewhere polished themselves for the bosses so it was only but natural for them to be seen with all the right people. They veered away from the insurrects as they would a dreaded disease. Some of these people included what I have learned to call friends.

Yet, there are those that remained. And those are the friendships I have made. All of us were curiously enough, dubbed “leftists”. But what is right anyway? If veering away from tradition in lieu of a better alternative and having a mind of one’s own---definitely not dependent on somebody else’s decision, is viewed as not being right, then by all means call us leftists.

But then, most of them are gone now. Off to greener pastures. Some place where they thought their voices will be heard. Some have found their happiness, some still search for it. I remain with the latter.

Despite the fact that I have seen generations of friends come and go (the turnover’s that fast), I still feel a pinch or two whenever I have to stand witness to another departure. (and my very own soon)

Camaraderie aside, maybe it’s those simple traditions that I miss. Or maybe it’s those little green monsters that eat me up. Or could it be that departures stand as reminders of my cowardice?

I know what I want and it’s certainly not this. I started out as a passionate and idealistic 21-year old (in this industry) that believed she could conquer the world with sheer optimism, honesty and blatant courage. Life did not turn out that way.

Now I am but a vessel mechanically going through the day to day demands of the job. Day after day of disappointment has caused both heart and soul to depart this shell. I know I should have decided to leave a long time ago and not just now. But for all my passionate convictions, I am too yellow to leave my comfort zone. Or could it also be that I have already lost faith in the entire system?

Well, I will have to save that for another day---after my body has regained its soul. For the meantime, clock tells me to sleep. Tonight's another day. I know I have to work still, but then again who cares about all these anyway? I have long since died within these company walls anyway.