You are sleep deprived for days. Your tired and battered body longs for the pillows and your soft bed. It’s Sunday so you anticipate a full, blissful and indulgent bed rest, so you get your bedside book to read until you fall unconscious.
Just when the book slowly slides from your hand and your eyes begin to close, your phone rings. You try to ignore. You take a peek at your phone but you cannot ignore the name blaring in the screen: your boss. Suddenly you feel a hot surge of anger spurt up your esophagus. You deeply resent the untimely intrusion. Holding your patience, you held your phone and groan your most courteous tone.
“Yes sir, good afternoon”.
“Sorry to bother you during weekend but I want you to draft a department order. This concerns the guidelines we’ve formulated. I will present it tomorrow before the secretary and undersecretaries for approval.”
“No problem sir. It’s Sunday afterall and I am just killing time”,
You say it in the hope that he can read the subtext screaming: “Of course, you are bothering me! You’ve just intruded my most private moment. I am not supposed to work on weekends! Asshole!
“Good. Please email me the draft today so I can make the necessary corrections”.
“Yes sir. I will.”
He is the boss. You are the lowly subordinate. You do the dirty work. He gets the credit. As if the weekly enslavement is not enough, you are expected to deliver in such a very very very short notice.
You get up in vertiginous state. A lightening bolt of stress flashes from the top of your head to the base of your spine. Stomach acid heaves up your esophagus and starts filling your mouth with the taste of regurgitated lunchtime sinigang.You light up your cigarette; you vigorously puff. A cloud of smoke comes out from your nostrils.
You curse your fate.
2 comments:
He he. Welcome to the world of corporate slaves where no day is reserved for rest. you'll get used to it. :-)
exactly r-yo. we're under-staffed and its unfortunate i have to perform multi-tasks. aargh!
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