I've heard it said that one should appreciate the small comforts of life & not worry about the big stuff. The antithesis of this of course is being lulled or softened by the small comforts, not realising that some amount of wrenching could make life a little better, albeit after some sacrifices.
The regular reader is surely in no doubt about my abject view of the current workplace. It is an indolent existence; I get decent internet, the colleagues are blasé, the tasks are far & few and I very rarely have to stay back after 6 pm. If this sounds too good to be true, it isn't. If it also sounds like a retirement home labour racket or life at Blandings without the humour, then yes, perhaps that comes closest to the general state of affairs.
In less than a week it will have been 1 year since I came to Bombay, eager to start anew in the Maximum city, wondering whether I'd be able to handle the hurly-burly speed of life and having nightmares about finding myself in Dombivili station when I really wanted to get to Churchgate. I have worked before, often in shady conditions, but this was my first job (even if the pay was bare minimum) and I was excited. However, there was one little thing.
Citizens of Bombay will tell you that the biggest question after rent considerations is the length & variety of the commute to work. By variety, I mean the very real possibility of having to take a rickshaw to the bus station, taking a bus to the train station, taking a train to whichever station was closest to work & then taking either a bus, rickshaw or taxi to the actual workplace. True story. Of course, I haven't even touched upon the topic of forcing yourself on & off a train, standing on the foot-board of a jam-packed bus, the traffic jams or staggering around wearily while the heat & humidity left you less human & more an old sponge.
I got lucky, in that I walk to the train station, cross over to the east, take one bus to work & another back, with a minimum of fuss. Keeping in mind the nonchalant office atmosphere & the rather easy commute, I assume some of you may just be a shade jealous of my professional life. So, I go back to the idea espoused in para 1; the small comforts & the eventual acceptance of the routine can very easily lull you into a stupor, waking up from which gets harder as time passes.
I resigned today. Yes, I have another offer in hand & all that. A fork in the road was reached, I have chosen & for once, it is not the road less travelled. There's a Seinfeld joke about the road, but that's another story. The small comforts have sadly reached their Battle of Plassey & it was with a twinge of something that I submitted the letter. I do not know if it was the pang of sadness or that of regret. Maybe acidity. All the same, the man who was excited & apprehensive about a new job, a new life in a new city, is now excited & apprehensive about a new job. Life goes on & Bombay, while no longer so new, is indifferent to the fate of its people.
A birthday boy told me about this song & it seems apt.
Song for the moment: Grounds for Divorce - Elbow
The regular reader is surely in no doubt about my abject view of the current workplace. It is an indolent existence; I get decent internet, the colleagues are blasé, the tasks are far & few and I very rarely have to stay back after 6 pm. If this sounds too good to be true, it isn't. If it also sounds like a retirement home labour racket or life at Blandings without the humour, then yes, perhaps that comes closest to the general state of affairs.
In less than a week it will have been 1 year since I came to Bombay, eager to start anew in the Maximum city, wondering whether I'd be able to handle the hurly-burly speed of life and having nightmares about finding myself in Dombivili station when I really wanted to get to Churchgate. I have worked before, often in shady conditions, but this was my first job (even if the pay was bare minimum) and I was excited. However, there was one little thing.
Citizens of Bombay will tell you that the biggest question after rent considerations is the length & variety of the commute to work. By variety, I mean the very real possibility of having to take a rickshaw to the bus station, taking a bus to the train station, taking a train to whichever station was closest to work & then taking either a bus, rickshaw or taxi to the actual workplace. True story. Of course, I haven't even touched upon the topic of forcing yourself on & off a train, standing on the foot-board of a jam-packed bus, the traffic jams or staggering around wearily while the heat & humidity left you less human & more an old sponge.
I got lucky, in that I walk to the train station, cross over to the east, take one bus to work & another back, with a minimum of fuss. Keeping in mind the nonchalant office atmosphere & the rather easy commute, I assume some of you may just be a shade jealous of my professional life. So, I go back to the idea espoused in para 1; the small comforts & the eventual acceptance of the routine can very easily lull you into a stupor, waking up from which gets harder as time passes.
I resigned today. Yes, I have another offer in hand & all that. A fork in the road was reached, I have chosen & for once, it is not the road less travelled. There's a Seinfeld joke about the road, but that's another story. The small comforts have sadly reached their Battle of Plassey & it was with a twinge of something that I submitted the letter. I do not know if it was the pang of sadness or that of regret. Maybe acidity. All the same, the man who was excited & apprehensive about a new job, a new life in a new city, is now excited & apprehensive about a new job. Life goes on & Bombay, while no longer so new, is indifferent to the fate of its people.
A birthday boy told me about this song & it seems apt.
Song for the moment: Grounds for Divorce - Elbow
Comments
@ neha - :) pretty much
you deserved something better