IT's ALL about the money.


Midweek. I always dread midweek. It’s neither here nor there. Not black or white. Just grey, very grey. As a pretty structured person, I detest the idea that something could be vague and ambiguous. Unfortunately it annoys and frustrates me when things become very grey and we become borderless, vulnerable and helpless. I call it the Grey syndrome. I wiki (wikipedia) the colour grey and this was what I found.

…“In a moral sense grey is either used ,pejoratively to describe situations that have no clear moral value, …Grey is associated with autumn, bad weather and sadness… “

I have been having the worst of weeks at work. My punters have been doing a tremendous amount of deals away and my numbers are simply weak and pale in comparison to my competitors. On top of that, I am getting heavier, (I was five kilos lighter) my liver is suffering from the 10 months (and counting) of alcohol intoxication and my ass is getting bigger from that 12 hour of sitting in an office chair. The most upsetting part is that despite all these the physical brutalisation, my salary has remained unchanged.

Outsiders, who have heard of my job, assume that I am paid “shit loads”. But the truth is far from it. I am getting, as my Lao ban says “fark all”. Lately, I have been extremely disgruntled with work only because I feel shortchanged and undervalue. Half a year ago, I would be really sharp and on my toes, nothing down every single price we had. As well to do as we all maybe, realistically the moola still counts.

Do you mean to say I traded in my blue kebaya for this abusive, putting-on-weight, liver killing job for less that I was getting before? It’s such a tough industry, on hindsight; I sometimes wonder why I had traded the glamourous uniform for this.

I don’t feel motivated anymore. Nothing drives me anymore. On the outside, I may giggle and laugh like a little wind-up doll but after seeing the figures my Lao ban sent me, I seriously feel like tendering my resignation tomorrow. I’ve never felt so drained.

There’s so much I wish to write and grumble about, and explain the other job offers I have, offering me twice my moola (Which I carelessly turned down) But I’m feeling so exhausted, I can’t bring myself to type another word. As I type, my eyelids feel like they weigh a ton, and I’m only feeling like this because I’m upset and want to sleep my worries away.

I’m sorry. I'm down with the grey syndrome. Good night.