It truly is. I’ve been gunned down, stabbed and ambushed on countless occasions; over the past twenty-three years. I was wounded badly, always shot emotionally. But I never shed a drop of blood. It’s a crazy war, and as with all wars, totally unnecessary. It stinks and is filthy, sometimes your arch enemies are those closest to you. Those who dined with you, visited your family and may be…just maybe, went on holidays with you. Their volleys hit the hardest, sometimes you don’t know they have fired at you at all until much later.
Where else, but the work place of course. The silent war zone, murders are committed, assassinations carried out and conspiracies hatched behind closed doors. Your closest colleague and friend will give you away for a day longer at the job, for the rung just above yours, heck! they do it to get your own job. In short, for a few dollars more. And always with a smile, ‘Smiling Assassins’ are never far away at a work place or office. This is a covert war, where you can find politicians, king makers, strategists, lackeys, back-stabbers, guerrilla war veterans, even emperors…the list is a long one. I must admit, exceptions will always be around for those lucky and blessed. But as with all such positions, they fall. They always do.
As with any war, most often than not, the innocents fall prey first. They are unsuspecting victims; drawn in to conflicts they never wanted. Some of these methods are called restructures. I know now, this may be a guise to get rid of those they don’t like and keep the ar.. lickers. I know, I have lived to tell the tale; in a different job.
As with any war I have tried many tricks, just to survive, just to do my job. But finding a job, is not just finding the right match to your skills and qualifications, it means entering a cesspool, where acute diplomacy means sucking up, means grovelling, means saying ‘Yes’ when “No’ is blatantly obvious.
I refuse, I have refused and have paid the ultimate price; over and over again. But, funnily enough, the after taste is still sweet. To be honest, I didn’t play the game (as some call it), not because I didn’t want to, it’s because I couldn’t. It doesn’t come naturally to me, simply put. I have tried to, on some rare occasions, but defeat was just round the corner. I couldn’t sustain it, nurture it, it had to fall by the wayside. Which is why I say, it must come naturally, it must be inbuilt; even to learn and pick up later.
So, that left me with only one option, leave the job, leave that environment. Leave the toxicity. Some of my closest, called me a ‘defeatist’, pin pointed my lack of resilience, lack of self-discipline. They may be right; arguably. I loved those who labelled me an ‘Escapist’. That I am. Shamelessly so.
Then, the escapist counters their arguments; silently, relentlessly. I have the courage to change my situation, find something on my own terms, change roles to suit my dictates. The self-discipline to forage through and find a corner that may give me some joy.
Thankfully, a little voice in my head; a voice I had lovingly nurtured, a voice which had nurtured me right back, a philosophical truth, says thus. That my sighs don’t have a place, they don’t deserve a place perhaps. In this flawed and inequal world, my curse, is a blessing someone would die for to have. So, DON’T complain.
A shiver runs down somewhere on me. A delicious shiver, a nervous shiver. I have almost two decades of working life left. I only hope and pray, that both my blog and I, will live to tell the tale.
copyright @ 2021 Jude Perera