Describe your ultimate escape plan (and tell us what you’re escaping from).
What am I escaping from? Or what do I plan to escape from? In a word: work.
Unlike a great number of people, I actually loved my work. And I did not use the wrong word. I loved my work.
Back then, I treated it like it was just a game. That’s why the results were very good and had fewer mistakes. I had this bounce to my steps. It was like I was skipping down the halls, like a kid going home after school—but it was still the work hours, mind you. There was laughter in my eyes and spirit in my smile. I felt alive.
I’ve made friends in the office and I’ve seen them come and go. And every time that happens, it made me think. I asked myself if I’d go that way too. The first two years I thought I’d stay there until I retire. I wouldn’t mind. I seriously didn’t mind.
One of those who resigned opened up a place for me. And in a spot I never imagined myself to be.
So there I was, a newbie of the team that I have come to love but whose work I would later on detest. Going from the first floor to the topmost floor changed my perspective on many things. A friend said I have gone through all those years looking at matters through rose-tinted glasses. With so many intrigues, schemes, and secrets that surrounded us, people wonder why do I appear and am ignorant of what was and is going on. (One word: earphones.)
But I too would play a part in that process. In no time, I have come to be known as office equivalent of the Grim Reaper. Any paper I held in my hands was a veritable Pandora’s Box; it could be a golden ticket, a “get out of jail free” pass, or a death warrant. Sometimes, it could even be the coroner’s certificate.
Little by little, I noticed people distancing themselves from me.
I’ve always known that my line of work would draw this kind of reaction. It took a while to get used to. But I did not feel good about it.
The words in my contract began haunting me last year. And my time is running out. The last thing I want to do is go on overtime in this game.
What used to be a game to me is now actual work. And I have now come to hate and dread it. The only parts that I love about it are when it’s over and when there’s a holiday or it’s the weekend.
I can quit. But not yet.
According to news bits, if I resign and looked for new work now, I’d be going up against the fresh-out-of- college kids. And the jobs out there are fitted for them, not for those who have experience. I should know because that’s what we’re looking for ourselves. We’ve always been hiring.
While I do plan to escape, there are still many questions I have to ask myself. When would I break free? How do I tell the others? Where do I run to when I get away? Am I ready to quit?
That last question gets to me. I place great premium on loyalty. But at what risk? The work? It’s beginning to suffer because of the decisions they’ve made. And even if they bettered everything—which is not likely at all—it still wouldn’t change what’s in the contract. And that’s the last thing that they would alter.
I’m not a workaholic but I don’t want to be retired and unemployed at 45.
Lastly, I want to work where I could feel alive and happy. Like how I used to be there.
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I feel your pain.