When you ask around why people do what they do, they will confess that they don’t really wonder about such questions.
Too philosophical.
Too existential.
Too humane.
But if you are more specific, and ask why they work when they are least interested in working, then you’ll hear the deepest of angst. That’s the unparalleled beauty of human existence. We work, not because we want to, but because we have to. It’s very dangerously similar to why we live.
There are 24 hours in a day and adulting is a daily exercise in accepting a bareknuckle fact of life: your time doesn’t belong to you. It belongs to others, preferably those who can pay for your inflated bills, naive aspirations and unchecked consumerism. You grant them more than one-third of your day, not to mention the commute, and you get a certain amount called salary at the end of the month. It’s magical how little we bother to ponder about the abysmal nature of this transaction.
You are a human being.
The chance of you taking birth as a person is 1 in 400 trillion.
That’s 1 followed by 14 zeros.
Yes, that’s how special you are.
Yet, here you are, like the rest of us, slogging it out, slugging against the deadlines, trying to make your presence felt, scratching for validation that doesn’t mean anything, swallowing your pride, pushing yourself onto the fast disappearing finish line, and making do with what is popularly called career.
I’ve been working continuously since 2007 and this is my 17th year as a professional. If there is one thing I am genuinely proud of in my otherwise miserable life, it has to be my work ethic. I always get things done even if my head is pounding and I am that fellow who grows anxious if a given task is not completed on time, and goes out of his way to ensure things are in order, without a hint of credit for the job. However, it doesn’t mean much. At the end of the day, nothing is worth holding your pee in. Particularly not your job.
Very very very few amongst us truly are in the profession of saving the world, making this sorry planet a nicer place to live in. An overwhelming majority of us are doing the exact opposite: enabling the BDSMic choking of our environment with plastic while saving money for our children’s college tuition.
Quite an irony.
We just need to remember the importance of being sincere, not zealous. Your job is to do your job and that’s about it. You are paid to do XYZ and if you don’t do it, somebody else will. So might as well do XYZ to the best of your ability. If you drop dead tomorrow, you will be replaced within a jiffy.
One jiffy is basically three times 10 raised to the power -24. In simpler words, approximately one nanosecond.
There is no need to be extra about it. Your work defines you—very true—but only as long as you have a job.
During my journalism days, it became apparent to me that a journo is only as good as her last byline. If your name doesn’t appear in the newspaper, people start to forget you. It’s a local train that keeps running; doesn’t matter whether you got on it or not. It will keep running.
Nowadays, you don’t have to grow old to deal with amnesia, god forbid, dementia. People quickly move on from one reel to another, one trend to another, one fad diet to another, one genocide to another. Nobody cares. In fact, that’s the sweetest thing about our species.
One word.
Conditioning.
And too much of it.
We are programmed to think in a particular manner, for a peculiar reason. And the saddest part is, those who see this pattern end up ruling the rest, instead of fighting back. After all, what the fuck is imposter syndrome? Who in their right mind doesn’t have self-doubt? Why are we supposed to chase clouds of growth? At what point are we to stop and stare and pick up a flower and sniff? Oh, that’s for Instagram.
So, when you put all these perspectives into one big conundrum cauldron, you’ve got to accept yourself dearly. You’ll also (tend to) realise that you don’t have to wear out your present in debt of a future that most probably even show up. Life is manageable if we rein in our wants and understand our needs.
If your work isn’t making you happy for at least a few moments in a day, then you are in the wrong job. Or may the job is right but you are wrong for it. My grand theory suggests that the ultimate pursuit of happiness has more to do with our professional life than personal. In your personal space, you seek contentment. At your desk, you better seek happiness. If you are good at your job, great. Now all you ought to do is get happiest at your job.
Thanks for attending my sed talk.
Haha
Damn.