The pace at which I type quickens as evening looms. No, I’m not excited about my job or the article I’m working on. I fucking hate my job but I’ll get to that later. It’s Friday night. All I can think of is winding up, getting out of office and hitting the bar. I’m meeting some friends there.
Finally, some respite after another week of relentless slogging.
The week flew by, if you ask me. Just like last week or the week before, nothing to write home about. Every day was a repeat of the previous, foreshadowing the next. Continuously hitting the snooze button until I’m hopelessly late for work, hurrying to office, parking myself at my cubicle and then slogging away until it’s time to go home. Then back home to my Chinese takeaway and beer as I watch a couple of episodes of *insert random TV show* and then I hit the sack.
Another day off the list. Six of these and that’s another week to cross off. Four sets of those and I’ve seen off another month. Cue to happy moment where my phone pings to inform me that my salary has been credited to my account.
After slogging my ass for 6 days a week, 14 hours a day, all I want on Friday night is get to that friend’s place and have a beer/joint (or both). I want to drown in my misery or get stoned dreaming of all the things I plan to do in life once I’m done with this goddamn job of mine.
So why do I do this? For the money? What money? It’s not like my salary is worth killing myself over. I’m broke by the third week of every month anyway.
Health too is taking a beating. You’d think that all the crazy work hours would mean I’m dead tired when I hit the bed. Wrong! My sleep cycle has gone for a complete toss. I’m drowsy all day as I sit at work, and when I’m home, I can’t even catch a wink.
Maybe it’s the alcohol, maybe it’s the lack of sleep. Maybe it’s both. Whatever it is, everyday I feel like Edward Norton from Fight Club, scrolling on my laptop at work with watery eyes.
Friendships are also suffering. The non-stop working means I’m always too zapped to meet anyone. I make plans and then cancel them at the last minute. I always end up meeting the same people I drink with. It’s so much easier. There’s no need for small talk. It’s like we all share a common problem so we can drink/smoke in silence, nodding in agreement at our plight.
And I can feel myself drift away from family as well. Even when we stayed in the same house, the conversations seemed to lessen with each passing year, until they ceased completely. I doubt they have any idea about what’s happening in my life, and no, it’s not their fault. We just stopped communicating. No wait, they didn’t, they still try. I stopped communicating.
And now that I’ve moved to another city, it’s only the weekly phone calls. And I’m always either too tired to talk or too busy to answer. Anyway, it’s always the same questions: Khaana khaaya? Shaadi kab karogi? Two minutes of small talk and excuses, then click. End of the conversation, up until the next weekend.
And let’s not even start talking about my love life. If I spend all my time in office, how the hell am I going to find anyone anyway?
Oh yeah, there’s Tinder. Swipe left. swipe right. Find someone, chat them up, fuck or maybe not, end of story. It’s fun for a while but is that all we want out of life? What happens when you start pining for some real conversation? Or that proverbial somebody you want to wake up next to?
Right now, it’s a freight train from one mistake to another heartbreak. And what follows is a lot of heavy duty drinking to get over whatever it is. Until I move on, and start swiping left and right again.
So long story short: I’m overworked and broke, hungover, tired and without love. So how do I get out of this?
So how am I going to get out of this rat race? This can’t go on forever. But then again, I’m not alone. There’s an entire generation out there, typing into laptop, swiping credit cards, swiping left and right on their phones, complaining about their jobs, smoking spliffs, passing out…
I guess we all take it one day at a time, waiting for something to happen. Deep down, I think, we all believe, that a time will come when it will all make sense, when it will all fall into place.
Until then, I suppose, I’ll just join my buddies at the bar and have a beer while I bitch about my boss.