I WANT A BETTER JOB!
I have a nice job. Well, uhhhmm... I thought I have. When I was a child, I sort of envisioned this kind of job, you know – having my own table with a calculator at the top, together with all the pertinent papers and documents neatly organized, a computer by my side (or was it only a typewriter then?), a telephone to hold important conversations with, all these nice people (are they?) coming to office at 8:00 am and going home at 5:00 pm (well, let's make it 5:01), and a job that pays well, say 10,000 a month (I guess I didn't take into account the inflation rate back then). Anyways, I have this kind of job, and I should be happy.
But why is it that I seem to drag my feet to office every morning? Why is it that I seem more tired at the end of the day than when I once worked in a busy mall store? Why is it that whenever my friends ask me if I'm happy with my job, I can't directly tell him, “yes”?
My boss is fine, so to say. At least, he is not the kind who scolds you at the face or drives you crazy with stupid questions. Yet somehow, I want him to be more than that. I want him to motivate me and inspire me as I work everyday. I want him to make me feel that there's something important in what I'm doing; that somehow, I am growing too, each day. I want him to trust me and believe that I can do more. I want him to listen, because I can say something. I want him to appreciate me as myself, not as a copy-cut of himself, his style, his work, or even his grammar.
I guess I just want to be fulfilled because I've realized that fulfillment is something more than what I've envisioned as a child. I'm a grownup now and I can see things I never saw before. I'm wanting things I never even thought I'd want. But hey! I can also do more things now, and maybe, there's nothing wrong with starting over again.
Like a child, I'm going to dream again. But like a grownup, I will act to make those dreams come true. I am no longer that helpless child whose fate depends upon the whims of those around him, according to Storr, “To be fed or not to be fed. To be cleaned or to be left dirty. Made happy or left to cry... treated as things and not as persons... manipulated, pushed around... treated as of no account by the powerful and the more superior.”
I have a nice job. But I can make it better!















