Friday, 11 April 2008

That’s what I have become. It’s sad and pathetic and disgusting and frankly I am fed up of myself but to be honest with you, I have become one! My master is my new employer who is actually now dictating my life for me. And you know what I hate about this? I like it!

Oh fuck I am fed up of myself but I like this job. The official working hours are 8am to 6pm which even though might actually make my American readers say “that’s it, really” and make my friends from India shrug their shoulders and say “so what”, it is really something that was unheard of in the UK. In my last job I used to leave my house at about 8:55-9:00 am in the morning and used to take a leisurely stroll to my work. I would smile at others on the way, would stop to read new signs, would notice the change on the streets, houses etc etc and would eventually enter the office at about 09:15-09:20.

I would go through my emails, hop over to some guys and have some chat, come back onto my desk, do some work, raise my head from my monitors and make a comment on something someone said just now and get back to work.

I would take a lunch break about 12:30, come back by 2 and work/play some more. Often and I don’t care if my ex boss is now reading this because I don’t give a shit really :D, often I used to go for a quick movie in the afternoons ;). I would then leave the office at about 5:15, go to the gym, sweat out, leave the gym about 7 and take my walk back to the home.

Perfect!

Now I get up at 5:45 am, and zoom through the process of shit, shower and shave. I put on extreme business formal clothes (read suites) and am out of the house by 6:30. I sprint to the nearest train station, dash through the barriers and hop onto the next train to London Waterloo. Trust me I wouldn’t notice a stripping Pam Anderson if here satins were to hit me in the face while I am sprinting to the station. On my journey on train I would use my PDA to check my emails, reply back to family and friends to give them the impression that somehow I am still involved in their lives and before I know it I would hit London Waterloo. Jump out of the train, dash to the other platform to take the next train and push and shove and often trip people who get in the way. I would squeeze myself into the tube (the London underground trains) and hold my breath till I get off at the bank station because if I were to breathe I would

a) be taking more space while inhaling exhaling and space my dear friend is at its premium in rush hours in London tubes.

b) be inhaling some very very unpleasant smells from the mass of humanity around me that would promptly make me choke and eventually, retch.


I would run to the office and slide into the elvators. Here I am, clock ticking 7:55 am, inside the office and what do I see?

Most of the people actually come in at 7:30!

Oh fock me now Lord!


The day is crazy always. No access to outside emails, phones, messengers nothing. People hardly talk to each other. Everyone is this highly cultured sophisticated buttoned up well paid uptight snobbish jackass (okay include me too but mind you, I have just joined this week and hence I am still in the process of being moulded here!). The evenings are nothing but the same morning pattern of sprinting and shoving and running and pushing and tripping this time back to the home. By the time I get down at my station I am so exhausted that I cant even think about hitting the gym. While on my way back to the house from the station trust me I would still not notice that naked Pam Anderson if she were to come upto me and thrust her “endowments” into my face to make sure I am really not blind.

I didn’t join this place; I sold out for the money. It is a financial institution and yes the money is good, too good really. Hefty bonuses, marvellous perks (last xmas everyone in the office got either an iphone or ipod touch or a peronsal laptop depending on choice) and usual comforts that money can buy. I am on a slightly senior position, a very important role for the business and soon I would be managing a small division.

But that innocence from the life is missing. I feel as if I have killed a part of me, left it for dead in my last job. I don’t walk leisurely anymore, I don’t notice change on my town streets, I don’t recognize faces I see on my way.

Is this what is called called career progression? I would be honest with you completely and admit this is what I always wanted. I had worked with Morgan Stanley before and I had loved the finance domain. Ever since that job I wanted to get back in there with the traders on the trading floor and live in that high paced, fast moving, extremely electric money charged atmosphere.


I guess Oscar Wilde was very right when he said

“There are only two tragedies in life. One is not getting what one wants, the other is getting it.”

Ihave been here only for a while let's see how I fair. Stay in touch guys!

 

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