My apology for not hating my job

I have reached a point past grovelling now. You have born witness to many apologies of mine, some great, some small, some medium. But of all the things to apologise for, this I feel is the most severe, the most urgent and also the most pressing. Dig it, check it. I’m sorry I still have a little beat in my system from the Jack Kerouac and Diet Coke yesterday, so please allow this cat to meander into free prose and return.

I was shocked yesterday as I sat at work, not shocked by the state of the world or by the passage of time, but by the rudest of all shocks, the one that comes from inside. I felt an odd rubbery feeling on my face. People who passed by me recoiled in terror. I could not understand exactly what was taking place, dig? What is it? I asked and stood and jumped and demanded and waited and persisted with longing with my thoughts open and begging and hoping to one day understand why I connected so many things with the word ‘and’.

I digress, I apologise. What had happened was that I found myself smiling. While working! I was incensed by my own wretched expressions and flung myself down a flight of stairs to repent. As I lay at the bottom of the flight of stairs a horrifying realisation came to me. I was fulfilled.

I know this is the basest of all emotions. You have told me repeatedly that disdain is the only way that one’s job is to be dealt with but I am ashamed to say that participating in honest work to receive payment is somehow fine with me.

Please understand I am not trying to hurt you. I am hurt myself. I know I am supposed to sullenly gather with my friends and complain over the weekend about how terrible everything is, but I have recently found myself unable to do that. You see the reason I am able to drink with my friends is the money I receive from my job that I do.

Blood Money. I know you have told me that there is nothing worse than being a slave to the machine. I do apologise again, but I seem to have enough time to do all the things that I like after I get home from work or in the evening. Sometimes I like to watch TV and read and ponder and think and open a book written in the thirties and marvel and jump in glee as I wonder and suppose and assume and try to understand why people had to use so many conjunctions and why it sounds so fucking cool to do it.

I apologise for being a corporate slave. You know how I am envious of you, you do what you like, go where you please, wake up and sleep at whatever time you like. You are beyond control or being contained, you are your own boss. But I have a salary. It’s pretty great. I could venture out on my own and be my own boss, but what I’m bothered about is being my own employee. I feel like I won’t be harsh enough on myself and my company of just me may not prosper.

I’m the most sorry that I don’t like stress. I’m just not a fan. I have anxiety when I have to make things happen for myself. It’s just a headache. I know that one should be a leader, but then there wouldn’t be any followers. Just a bunch of leaders standing in a line trying to get a large Americano at Starbucks and the leader would keep changing as people got their bills and move on. Really a dystopia of only leaders would be ruled by Starbucks, is what I’m saying I suppose. This metaphor as really fallen apart. I apologise.

I tried earnestly the last couple of months to waft in to the office like a corporate zombie and numbly pass through the day, vacant, empty, staring at lines on a computer screen -but we’re getting a TT table. I’m unable to contain my excitement any longer. Where getting a fucking TT table! I love table tennis. It’s the best. It’s a support, but it isn’t the difficult alpha male attracting type sport so people can actually play for fun! Also there’s this pretty girl who’s joined. Fuck! She’s so nice. People keep saying don’t poop where you eat, but this girl transcends both pooping and eating. Dig this -I’m supposed to give her training all of next week. Man I am so excited, I cannot begin to -the focus really I have to keep is not to creep her out. She shouldn’t regret joining the company and I shouldn’t make it awkward for her. So I have to play the long game. The really really long game. I figure she’ll work here for at least two years, that’s how long most people work before they make a switch so that’s my chance to-

Oh look at me. Rambling away like an old person no one talks to who thinks stories become interesting because of volume. I do hope you accept my apology. Also I will send you the money that you asked for. I really think you must be doing some great work because you ask me for money every month. My mind can’t fathom the great things you’re doing with all this borrowed money. One day I hope to live on my own terms like you.

Your Friend

(Name withheld)

This is an automatically generated electronic message. ESP Technologies is not responsible for the contents of this electronic mail. If you are not the intended recipient of this email or please delete it immediately. If this continues, please inform the sender of the same. The sharing of private and confidential information that belongs to ESP Technologies is illegal and you are expected to delete it immediately if someone has sent it to you. I’m sorry this whole apology thing is so boring but I’m a legal intern here and my life is empty. They don’t pay me anything. You wait, I’m going to bust this joint and start a startup. Then they’ll see, they’ll all see.

P.S. Dear reader if you know something that I should apologise for, please let me know here. I have a tremendous backlog, but I will get to it.

9 thoughts on “My apology for not hating my job

  1. Dear Kanan
    Your blog has been like a gift to mankind, just like the angels sent to earth in the form of Taher Shah.
    To me, you are perfection.
    But the Grammar Nazi in me has taken over my fingers and is typing this message. “Where getting a fucking TT table!” This sentence is bugging me a lot. It makes no sense to the tiny pea-brain this humble human posses. Shouldn’t it be “We are/ We’re getting a fucking TT table!”?

    My apology for doing this to you.
    I have done this to a lot of people. Many friends have been lost due to this sickness of mine. But never in a million years could I imagine doing this to you. Someone I love so dearly and miss so often, even though I have never actually met you (my apologies for that as well).

    I hope you can forgive me for this blatant sin right here, and we can move past this situation with the same love we had before I started writing the comment.

    Yours Truly
    Jigyasa

    Like

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