What goes around comes back around
It’s almost like a classic scene in movies: An employee rushes to the restroom, then locks herself in a cubicle. There, for whatever reason, she cries her heart out.
There’s a natural contrast in such situation that makes it so effective and almost surreal. People, after all, are expected to be pragmatic and professional in an office setting — of course, we know that reality doesn’t work that way — yet you find someone being so emotional, fully aware that her feelings have no place in that room that she would go and hide from the world. In that small space, she is free to express herself, unrestrained by other people’s perception of her.
Never had it occurred to me that I would experience the same heart-wrenching feeling. It was a Friday night, 62 weeks ago, when it happened.
The team and program, which I earnestly served for two years, had me evicted without prior notice. I was told around 6 p.m., just when ordinary workers are supposed to be going home, that I am no longer needed and that I had to pack my things.
I did, of course. It’s what any decent human would do. For three hours, I tried my best to detach from my wandering, lingering feeling of being so dispensable. To say I had a rough time is an understatement. For a while, I cried myself to sleep, I bothered friends of my woes in the wee hours of the morning, and I even sought therapy — it was like a “painful breakup”, I used to say.
As it is with other things, life got better. Blessed with a genuinely nurturing team and armed with the realization that it’s pointless and futile to dedicate my whole being to just work, I found myself happier. I was hurt, sure, but I had moved on. I harbored distrust for the people involved and disgust about what happened, but not hatred and anger. I was scorned, but I never thought of revenge. In my mind, I’m letting the universe take its course.
Tonight, also a Friday night, at 6 p.m., I found myself packing my things again. This time, however, I am reclaiming the office cubicle from where I had been kicked out as my own. I have my team with me, and I just know: in that small space, I am free to express myself, unrestrained by other people’s perception of me. And that’s enough to make me happy. •
There’s a natural contrast in such situation that makes it so effective and almost surreal. People, after all, are expected to be pragmatic and professional in an office setting — of course, we know that reality doesn’t work that way — yet you find someone being so emotional, fully aware that her feelings have no place in that room that she would go and hide from the world. In that small space, she is free to express herself, unrestrained by other people’s perception of her.
Never had it occurred to me that I would experience the same heart-wrenching feeling. It was a Friday night, 62 weeks ago, when it happened.
The team and program, which I earnestly served for two years, had me evicted without prior notice. I was told around 6 p.m., just when ordinary workers are supposed to be going home, that I am no longer needed and that I had to pack my things.
I did, of course. It’s what any decent human would do. For three hours, I tried my best to detach from my wandering, lingering feeling of being so dispensable. To say I had a rough time is an understatement. For a while, I cried myself to sleep, I bothered friends of my woes in the wee hours of the morning, and I even sought therapy — it was like a “painful breakup”, I used to say.
As it is with other things, life got better. Blessed with a genuinely nurturing team and armed with the realization that it’s pointless and futile to dedicate my whole being to just work, I found myself happier. I was hurt, sure, but I had moved on. I harbored distrust for the people involved and disgust about what happened, but not hatred and anger. I was scorned, but I never thought of revenge. In my mind, I’m letting the universe take its course.
Tonight, also a Friday night, at 6 p.m., I found myself packing my things again. This time, however, I am reclaiming the office cubicle from where I had been kicked out as my own. I have my team with me, and I just know: in that small space, I am free to express myself, unrestrained by other people’s perception of me. And that’s enough to make me happy. •