Young Man, Calm Down.

It was one of those days when one feels truly like a corporate slave.

My daily schedule is top heavy, most of the time. A flurry of activities and deadlines to meet before 11am, some time to work on some operational details, get more of those to work on and the steady slide towards the 4 O’clock slump. The day ends with finishing up a pet project or another for the boss, something which the boss will never know about but one likes to do it anyway. The boss is pretty cool.

Not yesterday. Yesterday was twisted.

[caption id=”” align=”aligncenter” width=”245"]

Nah, that’s not me. I wear designer ties.[/caption]

Started out regularly enough. By 9am, the most urgent deadline was done with. But oh no, there’s this daily 9:30am meeting one now has scheduled with some three bosses. Spring out of the chair, flurry of printing. Put down three or so ideas that may or may not be related to the theme of the meeting. Counting on one’s quick wits to survive this one.

Survived. Bosses even threw in an academic session for good measure, absorbed. Like a boss.

You must know this now, the good corporate slave is a sponge. It, yes “it” (because that’s what you are the bottom of the corporate ladder), has to be able to absorb stuff by osmosis and look good while doing it. There’s no other way to grow through the ranks, if it wants to become a senior slave. It has do these with all the grace of a bàtá dancer and all the force and the subtlety of the Saworo-Ide drummer.

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Note like I agree with what the picture says or anything but it kinda suits the mood.[/caption]

Back to one’s story of yesterday. One settles down to the drudgery of most of the day. Then one gets a meeting notice, with the bossman. THE BOSSMAN. One scrambles to prepare and gets ready with an hour to spare. Phew. Then one gets another note, meeting’s pushed back. Cue anxiety. One goes through the motions, with Guns n Roses’ November Rain a fitting soundtrack playing through one’s self-imposed sonic solitude.

Execute. Execute ^2. Breathe. Breathe?! Re-execute. *insert some Kanye West- Can’t a young n****a get money any more?*

One finds oneself leading a pretty stranger to the meeting with the bossman. The smiles that start these things, the questions, the calm answers. One relaxes, one has this covered. Then the ‘Hail-Mary’ pass! Intercepted. One really does have it covered, one is dismissed with a smile. The corporate slave pleases the bossman…this time.

Or does he? Remember that routine we went through two paragraphs up? That part where one re-executes? Yeah. One’s work is public facing, image stuff,so some unsolicited feedback usually comes. This time, it was the kind that sucks. It goes: “Yuck”!

Really, it uses that word.

The feedback went to the worst recipient possible. Yeah, that one. Sigh.

This one just stepped out of the office, hoping for a calm night! Cue flurry of calls and IMs from one’s direct supervisors. One responds in indignant fury, righteous flames spewing forth from the thumbs.

One pays no mind to the corporate slaves ahead of one, with their emails of alarm and phone calls of indignation. One says the truth as one feels it.

Wait…watch paint dry. Start to sweat.

An hour later, Bossman replies with the four words I’ll never forget: “Young man, calm down”.