First, you have to master the affected accent – an inevitable make-or-break rite of passage. Then you don that unmistakable airs and graces implying a sense of payroll superiority. Weeks of acclimatization, your substandard wardrobe has been overhauled, your gadgets upgraded. Your new fashion mantra: corporate chic. Months after, you have learned the art of effortless puffing and bottomless beer-drinking. After a year or two, your bank account has now ballooned to a hefty six-figure. Overwhelmingly, you start to ponder on an outside-the-monetary-realm satisfaction. Then staleness, redundancy and futility hit you. You are trapped in a terrible dog-eat-dog world and the last thing you beseech for is to break free.
And so I did. Bravely.
After almost three years of the reversal of my biological clock, a fair share of hefty paychecks, bouts of spur-of-the-moment hedonism, dozens of designer clothes, and two Convergys' Top Agent of the Quarter awards (kinareer ko sya!), I called it quits.
I am now working for an ISO-certified think-tank government organization. Quell it, this is your atypical government office. Read: think-tank! Although I’m still grappling the crux of kowtowing (not my cup of tea, really) and steering clear of scuttlebutt-ing, I smell victory in the future.
For the meantime, I’m turning my computer and the lights off. I’m having my afternoon siesta!
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