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Mixed blessings count too, I guess.
17 years ago
General
I got my annual review from my boss. One year already... this coming October, I'll have worked at the bank for a whole year. We talked about things.
I'm not exactly a model employee, but even though there is enough to be concerned about, I've never felt so... appreciated before. There were things said on that review that I never thought anyone would say about me. And yet... I don't feel guilty. My only regret... is that I've let slip what few things I did.
Time proves to be my nemesis. Or maybe it's just the old curse of procrastination proving once again that it isn't dead yet. Dammit. You push, and you push, and you think you got somewhere, until you look up and see the exact same horizon you've been stretching for the whole time no closer--perhaps even farther--than it ever was. But I've improved around it. I have made footholds in professionalism. I've anchored myself in attitude control. I've fine tuned my self-hypnosis capabilities to a fine art form, able to swallow the harshest, most inconsiderate policies. I've flexed my morals for personal gain farther than I ever thought I'd be able to handle, and now it's paying off.
I wonder if that's what it means to grow up: Giving up on the idea that cruelties can be avoided. I feel my idealism dying. And yet... there's still a twinge of nihilistic glee at seeing myself round peg self, after ramming a square hole, finally starting to fit. Even the fear that I may never return to my old amorphous self is fading.
See... I'm up for a raise.
I've never been up for a raise before.
Ever.
I've never had my loyalty tested before.
Ever.
I feel that tonight, I pushed a button I've kept under glass my entire life until now, and something cracked, way deep down, and I pulled the one piece of wool over my own eyes that I've been avoiding all along--the one that would finally seal out the last wink of light:
I have engaged the illusion, for my own survival and profit, that my employer is honest and fair, and that the policy is sacrosanct, and there is nothing wrong; and that everybody who ever decides to make a purchase that they cannot afford is a criminal, trying to steal the Company's money. Our money. MY money. And they deserve every OD fee they get. The rules are absolute. There is no room for negotiation. If we grant an amnesty, it is sheerly out of courtesy, by no obligation whatsoever. There's nothing wrong with the system. We tell the truth and only the truth, and if you do not understand, it is your fault for not understanding. We have explained it exactly as far as we are required to by law. The law says you are responsible for accepting our rules if you sign here. Why would you agree to something you do not understand? Ours is not to second guess you. We place our trust in your responsibility, and your irresponsibility places your paycheck in our pocket.
Thank you.
The one thing that makes the small, screaming, gibbering, terrified corner of my last remaining shred of instinct feel convinced that this is evil, is the fact that the rest of me is adamant that this is not evil. This is honest, and open, and completely and transparently disclosed without exception, and everyone who does business with my bank has every opportunity to disengage if they disagree.
Anyways...
Time.
I was tardy a few times. It was one of the few places where I did not meet optimum parameters. I did not quite pass beneath minimum parameters. I would be lined up for a bigger raise if I had made it on time. They did not disclose how much I will be getting extra in my pay... but they did say that I could have done better. And I believe them. I know I will do better.
My sloppy lifestyle is coming back to harm me. this is enough to convince me that I now have an Enemy within myself again, to sharpen my conviction against. I can feel the tension, trembling precipitously, as this is the tip of the sword, the make-or-break moment--the existential shock that forces someone to change. I am going to end up changing again... Something tells me that I should be afraid. Something else in me is more concerned that I am not afraid. The rest of me has no opinions anymore.
... I hope you won't hate me when I finish becoming what I am about to become.
I'm not exactly a model employee, but even though there is enough to be concerned about, I've never felt so... appreciated before. There were things said on that review that I never thought anyone would say about me. And yet... I don't feel guilty. My only regret... is that I've let slip what few things I did.
Time proves to be my nemesis. Or maybe it's just the old curse of procrastination proving once again that it isn't dead yet. Dammit. You push, and you push, and you think you got somewhere, until you look up and see the exact same horizon you've been stretching for the whole time no closer--perhaps even farther--than it ever was. But I've improved around it. I have made footholds in professionalism. I've anchored myself in attitude control. I've fine tuned my self-hypnosis capabilities to a fine art form, able to swallow the harshest, most inconsiderate policies. I've flexed my morals for personal gain farther than I ever thought I'd be able to handle, and now it's paying off.
I wonder if that's what it means to grow up: Giving up on the idea that cruelties can be avoided. I feel my idealism dying. And yet... there's still a twinge of nihilistic glee at seeing myself round peg self, after ramming a square hole, finally starting to fit. Even the fear that I may never return to my old amorphous self is fading.
See... I'm up for a raise.
I've never been up for a raise before.
Ever.
I've never had my loyalty tested before.
Ever.
I feel that tonight, I pushed a button I've kept under glass my entire life until now, and something cracked, way deep down, and I pulled the one piece of wool over my own eyes that I've been avoiding all along--the one that would finally seal out the last wink of light:
I have engaged the illusion, for my own survival and profit, that my employer is honest and fair, and that the policy is sacrosanct, and there is nothing wrong; and that everybody who ever decides to make a purchase that they cannot afford is a criminal, trying to steal the Company's money. Our money. MY money. And they deserve every OD fee they get. The rules are absolute. There is no room for negotiation. If we grant an amnesty, it is sheerly out of courtesy, by no obligation whatsoever. There's nothing wrong with the system. We tell the truth and only the truth, and if you do not understand, it is your fault for not understanding. We have explained it exactly as far as we are required to by law. The law says you are responsible for accepting our rules if you sign here. Why would you agree to something you do not understand? Ours is not to second guess you. We place our trust in your responsibility, and your irresponsibility places your paycheck in our pocket.
Thank you.
The one thing that makes the small, screaming, gibbering, terrified corner of my last remaining shred of instinct feel convinced that this is evil, is the fact that the rest of me is adamant that this is not evil. This is honest, and open, and completely and transparently disclosed without exception, and everyone who does business with my bank has every opportunity to disengage if they disagree.
Anyways...
Time.
I was tardy a few times. It was one of the few places where I did not meet optimum parameters. I did not quite pass beneath minimum parameters. I would be lined up for a bigger raise if I had made it on time. They did not disclose how much I will be getting extra in my pay... but they did say that I could have done better. And I believe them. I know I will do better.
My sloppy lifestyle is coming back to harm me. this is enough to convince me that I now have an Enemy within myself again, to sharpen my conviction against. I can feel the tension, trembling precipitously, as this is the tip of the sword, the make-or-break moment--the existential shock that forces someone to change. I am going to end up changing again... Something tells me that I should be afraid. Something else in me is more concerned that I am not afraid. The rest of me has no opinions anymore.
... I hope you won't hate me when I finish becoming what I am about to become.
I do hope that you can manage to break out of bad habits hun, and develop better ones, or at least modify your bad habits to something a little better, be it all at once or gradually.
What you 'change' into be it good or bad, I'm sure me n' all your friends 'll love yah anyways.
Lots of love
Zeb.