If at this very moment I could really kill someone and not have to deal with the repercussion of my violent actions, I certainly would. All moral qualms and reservations that I possess against inflicting mind boggling pain to another human being just got tossed out of the window about a minute and a half ago.
There are generally two kinds of people that ultimately affect the destiny of all humanity, the good and bad bosses. In all my years of indentured servitude that almost always border on slavery these two categories of the human race have severely affected my existence in more ways than one.
I work for a horrid, horrid man. He is inconsiderate, judgmental and all assuming. The mighty messiah of this wretched organization knows it all even though he might know absolutely nothing at all. To be honest I haven’t been miss perfect either, I have made my fair share of mistakes to say the least, but I am no fool, when I know I’ve done something wrong, I always make it a point to note it down and never repeat it twice if I can.
You meet all kinds of people in life; S was quiet and stern and talked only when it was absolutely needed. She walked around the office in her no-nonsense style and conducted meetings with great efficiency and diligence. I loved S, she was the model boss; she is among the few people that inspired me to put in my utmost effort in whatever I did and do it with sincerity. I do aspire to be like her someday. One of the saddest things about leaving New York and Oxford was that I would never get to work with S again. People don’t really change jobs they change bosses.
My winning streak at work ended about six months ago. Here I am in Bombay finally doing the work that I love for a wretched, wretched man that absolutely hates everything I do. I have entirely forgotten what it is like to be appreciated and acknowledged for my efforts. It has all simply come down to counting how many times I don’t fuck up and get yelled at each day. I’m almost convinced each day, precisely by mid-afternoon that I’m completely useless, a sad waste of breathing space and matter, I kick my self in the shin by three pm and try to convince myself otherwise.
Calling someone horrid and disparaging is rather hypocritical on part; I have been guilty of that time and again. But to let ones pre-conceived notions affect every opinion that they form about another human being is so totally unfair!
You know, there is no way of pleasing certain people. This other S falls in that bloody annoying category. I know with great certainty that I am not always right, shit I am the queen of mess-ups, but I know for a fact that I am not always wrong! How can I possibly remotely please someone that thinks I’m a tad bit weird and maybe a little insane?
Am I really all these things? Yeah sure in a way, but really now who isn’t? Our eccentricities are what make us tick as individuals. Sure I have been lost in my own little sad, personal, convoluted universe for the past two months, but ever since I was made to realize the errors of my ways, well at least in the work place, I have been careful enough to stay focused, alert and on the top of my game.
How does one go about fighting the impressions of the past? As the only creatures in existence to be concerned with the consequences of our past deeds, I am in a terrible place. I wish I could just go back, rewind time and convenience S that I’m not crazy, weird or insane. I have a million things to do each day, things that require my utmost attention, things that might slip through the cracks and cause everyone a lot of grief. I make my notes and I re-read them time and again. But alas, I’m no mind-reader, when things do go wrong, which in my life they invariably do, I can’t magically guess it.
If I was blessed with that kind of divinity and intuition I would definitely not choose to be at this place in my life, really who would? So really, when I do ask about a certain thing, it is not my heartfelt intention to nag, pester or annoy, it is merely to remain informed. Will somebody just please tell him that. If and when I do get fired lack of communication will most definitely not be an issue this time around!
When my legacy is discussed long after I have gone, it shall be said time and again that her long, hard walk to disaster was paved with the most excellent of intentions. Everything I do or say turns to shit, when I am hanging between two worlds after my inevitable end I shall ask, no beg St. Peter or whoever it is that is in charge of reincarnation to please make me the slimy moss that grows on the rock at the bottom of the ocean. I can’t stand to be born human, not again. If the gift of humanity entails being unceremoniously tossed time and again, they I’m far better off living a stationary existence.
PS: I'll try to write about happy things next time.