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March 30, 2005
Career Suicide
Something interesting has happened and I think the event will further crystalise my future, or rather, our future. It is one thing to still be mulling over the decision but it has become another thing when people have assumed and made that decision for you, just because you happened to be there.
Sure, it was awkward. Sure, I must have blushed brighter than a red tomato. Sure, it made me the centre of attention for that few moments. Yet, there was something about it that strangely warmed and sedated me.
I guess the end of a long age is at hand.
***
I find it interesting when I examine the dynamics of other people’s extended families and compare them with my own. Through my eyes, she was well-loved by certain members of her extended family and it was not surprising to me why they loved her that much. From there, I had an inkling of how much of an effect her grandmother’s demise had on her and it was confirmed when I observed those swollen and red pair of eyes on her face as I sat down beside her. Though I was doted upon by my late paternal grandmother, I never really felt close to any one of my grandparents and during their wakes, I did not feel a thing when their coffins were pushed into the furnace. To see the sadness on her face, the loss of her loved one must have been immense. I might have never experienced this pain but I understood where it was coming from.
All I hope is that an end can be a beginning of sorts for her and sometimes, an end to something may not be that depressing after all.
***
So I was at the table and chatting with her ex-boss (a middle-aged lady) about scholars and the immense pressure heaped especially on Christians living in Singapore. Despite all the misgivings I have with the system (which are too sensitive for me to discuss about the issues here and publish them), I tried to be objective when talking about the age-old scholar issue. It is tempting to be bitter about how you have not been given more than a chance at proving your abilities, which may not be as inferior as those who aced their ways to academic excellence. It is tempting to go all sour grapes on how you face the same things all over again at work just because you attained your qualifications at some third-rate university and not those high-flying Ivy-League institutions.
One to two decades ago, I would openly voice my displeasure at how going to neighbourhood schools for all my life meant I would never have access to the best “state-of-the-art” facilities and the latest educational gizmos that those in the elite schools were privy to. I would pin the reason for their brilliance in results on the fact that they were given the best and therefore, the best became better and the not-so-good became more average. I would wear a scowl on my face whenever February and March roll along and the papers would be filled with articles after articles lauding those who attained 10 A1s.
Nowadays, I only lament to myself when I come across such articles. I could have been one of them if I had spent all the waking hours of my life poring over textbooks, ten-year series and assessment books. If ten years can really determine the fate of one’s life in totality, wouldn’t one be wise enough to invest everything and anything into the first decade?
Of course, I belong to the category where a proper childhood was more important than books and grades. That was what I believed and this is where
I am at – now only a piece of plankton drifting aimlessly at the wrong end of a long food chain.
***
Sometimes I wonder really if this world makes any sense at all. Sometimes I wonder how the brightest and smartest people can make the stupidest mistakes one can imagine. Is that really what life is about?
***
When he casually described his soon-to-be former superior as a “good friend but bad boss”, immediately the image of a two-faced, fire breathing dragon came to mind. Later when he clarified that he (or rather his career) actually suffered for two years because this boss was too nice and therefore, had little resolve to fight for the rights of those below her, I was stunned for a second two. Instantly, my mind questioned this man’s use of the adjective “bad” to describe his soon-to-be former superior. If she was bad, then how about those “beasts” I have to face and manage every fecking second I find myself caged up in my cell?
Career suicide is not suffering for two years under a boss who treats her sub-ordinates with some form of dignity albeit the fact that she does not fight hard enough for them. Career suicide is finding yourself caged up in a situation where almost no escape routes can be found while facing the prospect of being tortured up by “beasts” with humongous egos almost all the days of your working life (including Saturdays, Sundays and Public Holidays).
And they have the gall to say “Life is great?”
Posted by D W at March 30, 2005 12:52 PM