F*ck Working Long Hours Only to Take Home a Peanut Salary
There’s another way for you to succeed in life.
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I came into the office, white as a ghost at 4 am.
No BS.
I had the flu, bad. I figured if I went to work early to do my paperwork I could exit before anyone came in. So I did.
On a cold winter’s morning I drove my piece of crap Holden Astra (not mine, actually, it was gifted to me when I lost everything) to the city.
The streets were dead. I had a tissue box in my hand. My nose had a snot waterfall gushing out of it. The jumper I wore had visible vomit stains.
There’s something about the calmness of early morning. That was perhaps the only advantage of doing this stupid work act.
I got to reception, swiped my corporate prison card and said hello to security, who were wondering why I was in so early (my employer was a bank so they probably thought I came to rob it).
As the elevator hit the 26th floor I got out. I expected nobody to be in. A light was on. Some other smart ass had got to work before me. He looked like he hadn’t seen the inside of his home in years.
No wedding ring, figures. I later found out he was already divorced and hadn’t seen his kids since his wife threw his stuff out on the curb.
Nothing more to lose, I guess.
Oh, and he did cheat on her one night at a bank ball. No surprise there.
I placed my laptop on the desk. I got started on the finance applications that needed to be reviewed for my biggest client.
Like a good little corporate employee, I emailed the customer with a pretend update so they could see what time I started work and tell my boss.
That’s what you do to survive in this dog-eat-dog world, I tell ya.
Time flew by. Three hours later the applications were done. I felt worse. I thought I was going to pass out. Wouldn’t be the first time.
I slowly walked towards the elevator. It was too late. The onslaught of early morning do-gooders in perfectly dry cleaned suits with freshly flossed teeth had arrived.
