I Am Sensitive

I Am Sensitive

Friday, May 11, 2012

The Real Truth


Dear Diary,

It has been awkward for me. I have never felt this way before. Work has been such a bore to me nowadays. The environment here is so different from what I am used to and honestly, I have never expected it to be this way. I have become so lazy to the extent that I do not care anymore about my sales targets. I see no purpose in trying to be a good salesperson here. The monetary rewards is not impressive and most significantly, I have lost interest with anything relevant to this job. It is just unbelievable how they do things here. I am fed up with the redundant workflow systems and I am especially tired of being there.

I am turned off right on the very first day of work. I have said it before and I am going to say it again, this is by far the worst bank I have ever worked. Mr.T, my team leader is one hell of an egotistical man. He annoys me with his silly remarks about general issues making he look stupid and childlike. The department is unofficially divided into different groups. We are separated by our race by nature of its environment. There are many Chinese than any other races and the Chinese there are the type of Chinese who simply hang with their own race, so it seems. I may be wrong but this is what I feel and see. There is no racial integration and that makes me feel so awkward and uncomfortable. It is simply weird to be working in an environment like this.

It is different Diary. I cannot cope with the environment and I cannot comprehend the workflow. I do not know how long I can last there. The group of colleagues I am hanging with is the ones who have worked there for less than a year. They are the friendlier ones and there is a good balance of integration with this group of people. We have Indians, Malay, Chinese and Sikh. This is how it is supposed to be I guess. They are the ones that make me feel comfortable. I would not last a day without them, this I know for sure. I just come to work daily without any goals. For all I know, I have to be at work just so I could earn a living and fill up my time while waiting for my dreams to come true. Life is not easy nowadays Diary. Everytime I am halfway up, I am always halfway down.

I should have stayed in my previous job. Ermm...well never mind. I guess I must focus on the next thing to do. I could have asked from my parents but I am too ashamed now. If only I have not disappointed them too many times in my life, I would not be ashamed to ask from them. Perhaps, I should just be bold and ask from them but I know I cannot.

The loan application still needs a little more time to be finalised. So what else can I do except to wait? I have stopped myself from becoming too hopeful on it and to prepare for any bad news. I have become somewhat spiritless and mostly I mind my own things becoming oblivious to the surroundings. I am a walking ghost Diary. I wake up every morning to go to work that I never have a passion for. I go home to have my dinner, spend my time watching the television and I go to sleep whenever I decided to. Sometimes, I looked back at what went wrong and I supposed I have to stop feeling sorry about the mistakes I have made. Oh well Diary...life is indeed a roller coaster.

I am not enjoying my job but I am enjoying the company I have in my job. I am seated right next to a man who talks nonstop but I would say rather knowledgeable. He is a well-read person and he knows practically almost about anything and everything. I supposed that is why he talks nonstop. It can be very taxing to chat with him but I find him amusing sometimes. He is someone I would take as my entertainment in the office. He never fails to have topics for conversations and he is a man of his own. He goes lunch alone and he does not mind being alone without any friends. I guess he talks too much most of the times and this make people become uncomfortable with him.

I am still planning to have my own food stall Diary. I think I will someday, it is just a matter of time. I have to go now. Good night Diary.

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