Stop The World!

Meltdown. Into million forged pieces of open ended questions, only to be answered with gazillions of counterfeited comments about how this world tends to revelate according to the behavior of its sub-human primates inhabitats. It’s constructive denial. Phasing slowly through every small step. First, you are in the land of timber. Scattered printed documents of narcism and high hopes. Then the desperation starts in conjuction with the mountain of wasted printed documents repeated all over again. You worry on how every words reflects on your competency to be including in the organization. Were you confident enough or were you over selling in the achievement section of your cover letter? Was the photo representable enough to be regarded as a professional in your desired industry? And other useless self-repetitive mind boggling anxieties. The second phase begins, you get a phone call for a face to face assessment. Or if your lucky you are presented with a paper assessment, judging our ability to survive in the workforce after completing tasks on spatial, verbal, and numerical proponents. And be reviewed through those unrelated criterion that has nothing to do with work. If you have passed your first interview or paper test, comes the awaiting. You pray (or swear you will) so you get called for the next interview. You become hypersensitive towards you handphone and noting everybody in the house to inform you whether a phone call has been made. In some pathetic attempt you would disband yourself from going 10 miles out of town, worrying the interviewer would only give you a five minute notice beforehand. Now, you got the call. The mirror is your happy place. You try to look calm, confident, and frame every angle of yourself to appear suitable for that position. You go into the room, shake hands with the interviewer and charm everybody including yourself. Then you step out of the room, go into the lift, and start to breath heavily. Knowing this is your dream job.

Glitters show around you, as you may have pass the stage of idiot drunken college boy to become a young professional. Your phone rings at the right time, you are requested to be at their office for the big O. The offer. Now, you set a number in your head, prepared all the negotiation and persuation skills in hand to get the highest bid. Just as if you’re a Da Vinci painting in Sotheby’s. Of course your not a painting. Your just another name tag addition, a dispensable fresh grad their trying to get the best in return. You’re appraised below what you think is supposed to be valued, you try to negotiate but the Human Resource can smell desperation. They give you shit but says this shit doesn’t smell and if you perform we’ll award you with nice fragrance shit. You say, OK no big deal, give me a shot.

Then the third phase comes, first day of work. You get shit all over your face, smelling exactly like shit, with other people shiting on you as their welcome note. Good luck guys. I’ll eat shit as all the rest of you.