The Corporate Bitch

 He sat at his desk with tears in his eyes. Broken, shattered and tired, he wanted to go home and lock himself up. With no strength to carry on, he continuously stared at the clock on his screen.

All his life he had been a corporate bitch; a tail wagging helpless creature that would leave no stones unturned to please his master. Such was his life in a world where promises were made only to break them. From an executive to a manager to a leader, all he imagined was a successful man who would never falter.

Each morning, he would leave home early and board a harshly occupied train to work. Each afternoon, he would gulp down a slice of bread to rush back to his corporate mechanism. Each evening, he would stay longer than others and complete his work. Each night, he would review his entire day and plan his work for the next day.

His weekends were mostly occupied pleasing his clients. His dates were mostly with people he begged from. His bag had nothing but papers and a huge laptop. His shoulders began to appear droopy. He appeared like a middle aged man who was nothing but a reflection of the computer that he sat in front of.

He saw several managers and leaders taking charge of his operations in the past decade of which many were nothing but douchebags who loved showing off their pseudo intellect. They all loved dogs; dogs who would fetch the Frisbee from a fire pond if given a chance.

That day, he was called and given marching orders in return for his exemplary service to his masters. The only problem was that he wasn’t given a reason. He was just asked to leave and make way for a more talented and passionate dog.

That night he stumbled upon an old picture. It contained three young men holding a large fish. He remembered it was a prize for their patience as they waited an entire night with healthy baits on their ropes. He found another picture with a baby smiling innocently at a woman. A woman he had long forgotten. A beautiful ring that had two initials engraved perfectly. He also found a rusted trophy with his name engraved ornamentally; a few medals and a certificate that shouted out his name loudly.

He hurriedly removed all his clothes and began washing them. They were clean but all he could see was blood spots; His dreams, his ambitions and his self-esteem were mercilessly killed that day. He services were no longer needed at the temple of his perseverance. That night he preferred sleeping in his washroom amidst the stainless clothes he just cleansed.

Free from the shackles of a thankless contraption, the dog had indeed chewed its collar off.

Next morning he searched for places he would visit his friends, left a message to his mother and began cooking his favorite dish; a smoked salmon. He was contented with the fact that today he could do whatever he felt like, he could drink his favorite wine whole day, rest his shoulders on a fluffy pillow and just sit in his balcony admiring the city looking forward to life ahead.

A life full of opportunities and disgust, blood stained clothes and relentlessness bought him nothing but disappointment as days passed.

The two men holding the fish were now famous Yachtsmen and had no contact points for people out of their radars. This was the first time he entered a cemetery to cry over the woman who he looked up to. She left him silently two years back while he was busy travelling and building his business relations. The engraved initials on the ring reminded him of his failure as a partner who had no time for love.

He woke up early today; got into the harshly occupied train with a huge bag on his shoulder. While in the station washroom, he looked at his clean shirt and the new collar he was given last evening.

Ready for another bout, the corporate bitch marched into the dark den with his tail wagging firmly.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

Create a website or blog at WordPress.com

Up ↑

%d bloggers like this: