Commas, and Full Stops.

Of milestone(s), work, and identity

The wait

The night of February 28 and the morning of March 1. Anxious days. I had worked, slogged, and toiled for a year-and-a-half for the day. The results of promotion were to be communicated “unofficially”. If I got it, this would be my first promotion - not just in this firm, but for the first time ever. For someone who has been working full-time for over 6 years now, the Math probably does not add up at the outset. However, given the fact that I hopped jobs every 12 months, promotions and salary negotiations were never in the horizon.

Though I was restless on the one hand, I was also reasonably confident the result would be positive. I had run through what all I would be doing the moment I got to know. I would DM my first ever manager, in whose opinion I would never be able to stand a chance in the corporate world, taking sarcastic digs at him. I would close the doors and windows of my room and shriek out loud until all the built up pressure sort of wore away. I would play my most favorite Harris Jayaraj songs, and possibly sing along; heck, I had the keyboard anyway. Possibly some G minor or A minor soundtrack? I would turn my AC down to 18, as opposed to the usual practice of never ever dropping the temperature below 25, and sleep for hours together. I would keep punching my worktable until my hands hurt. So much anger, stress, frustration, and wait had been simmering all at once together that it felt like a culminating moment of outpour.

What if the promotion did not go through? I would fight. Against the whole world? Possibly. Or, I would file my papers and leave, perhaps? I did not know. I thought about why I was being silly. If it did not happen this time, it would definitely happen the next time over, right? 6 months? 12 months? Big deal? Nope, this was not about desperation. This was possibly about the reward for hard work. I could not demand it, but I knew I deserved it. Gnashing my teeth, I was pacing here and there, as one after the other, my friends and colleagues started revealing their results. When you are nearing 30, and have no comparable “career achievements” in the corporate world, there definitely is a palpable FOMO, irrespective of how self-actualized you are, and how I-don’t-give-two-hoots-about-these you behave.

Ugh, why was I not getting to know! The clock was ticking, and every single moment felt like a Mathematical exercise in calculating exponential growth - in my case, that of the pulse.

The gong

“Congratulations”, one of my seniors and mentor-figures pinged me. For a moment, I went blank. After several minutes of having walked here and there intensely, I plopped myself on the chair. I did not shriek out loud. There were no DMs to my ex-manager. There were no songs, no singing. In fact, on the contrary, the moment felt deafeningly silent. Keeping the phone aside, I closed my eyes for a bit. Contrary to all the intense energy and all the pre-visualizations prior to the results coming in, the situation felt calm. At 29 years 3 months and 20 days, and after 7 years and 10 months post-completion of undergrad, I finally had a chance to experience promotion at work. The thought was chilling enough that I did not need air-conditioning in the room.

I sat there motionless, covering my face with hands for a long time, as tears kept coming. They were gradually washing down all the tension, the whiplashes, the wounding statements that have been piling up over more than half-a-decade - “Why do you guys come from these rural towns without knowing the corporate world and create nuisance for us? Go and work at jobs suitable for you." “With all your non-profit adventures, you are never going to make it in your career.” “Your friends will earn well, go to a good job title soon enough, and you will still be stuck and rotting.” “You are sticking around in schools teaching clueless children because you don’t have the confidence to get into the corporate world.” “See other children keeping their parents happy and spending for them? You can’t even save enough for yourself, let alone spend for parents.”

This was not an answer to any of those questions. I was not going to make it a response-to-critics cinema. For, that was not at all the case. This was me exterminating my internalization of all the negativity. This was my way of exhaling all self-doubts. This was my work speaking for itself. This was all of these and much more.

The perk up

As the noises around weakened and came almost to a standstill except for the ruffles of the Peepal leaves, the crowing of the brunch-seeking crows, and the ticking of the clock, the hands on my face finally let themselves go. The face had been puffed up in those few minutes of no air circulation, the eyes had become a bit bloodshot with all the feeble weeping, the elbows had become numb thanks to being fixated on the table

“Welcome to the world of corporate slavery; there is no going back hereon”, yelled the Cynical Giri. “Perhaps, but I finally am getting rid of most, if not all, of the negativity that had been burdening me for so long now”, responded the Upbeat Giri.

“How needy and desperate are you to form your identity based on work and career? In fact, you feel completely under-confident now”, grinned the Cynical Giri. “I definitely have an identity outside of work, and am proud of all that I have accumulated over the years towards that identity. But this is probably one more that will make the identity sandwich more delicious.”

“Dude, why do you make 30 sound like you are 80? Folks bloom much later in their career as well. An 80+-year-old musician from a corner of Tamil Nadu is making waves with his symphony in London. Yours is not that big of a deal, anyway”, barked Cynical Giri. “This is a big deal for me. This is like listening to that symphony and feeling still, peaceful, and happy all the same time'“ responded Upbeat Giri.

“However…” started Cynical Giri, with hopes of riling up Upbeat Giri. CG was probably expecting a “Fuck off” from UG. UG said, instead, “You can’t convince me nor win me over this time. Would you please walk away?” And, that was resolute enough for CG to disappear… for the time being.

The debt

I kept thinking about October 2023, when I was still on the verge of quitting the first post-MBA job - the one that has provided me this promotion - after hearing the same rhetoric for the n-th time in a different variation: “Who decided to take you in, man? How did you do an MBA, if you cannot understand this simple ask?” <Name> dude, I don’t think he is clear on what he is doing. Move him out of this engagement.” When I moved out - or rather, unceremoniously thrown out - the ghosts of the past came back to haunt me. Perhaps, all those previous comments were not intentionally negative, but they were just stating the obvious all along. Maybe I could not survive in the corporate landscape.

But, circumstances changed.

Someone from the middle management then took a leap of faith and took me under his wings for the next 2-3 months. October 2023 to December 2023 brought me back from the dead. Working 12 hours, 15 hours, or ungodly hours did not matter. By December 2023, he made me realize the best way to eliminate self-suspicion was to focus and to work hard.

And, this was not the only time someone picked me up.

When I quit my first job in 2018, and moved on to my second, with zero self-belief, someone picked me up, believed that I could make a mark, and has practically molded me ever since.

When in 2022, things were not working the way they could have, a group of friends stuck around until things worked out.

Even in 2024, someone I look up to told that it is important to take credit for work being done, as modesty beyond a threshold could become damaging.

Times always change.

I keep thinking about why these people did what they did for someone they had no incentive to help out. That is the one piece in this whole jigsaw I am simply not able to figure out. People wanted work done, and they needed help; but, there were hundred others who could do the work. There were thousand others qualified and credentialed enough to satisfy the requirements. For strange reasons though, their trust was vested in me. And as it looks like my career is finally getting started, the debt that I will never be able to clear is not monetary in nature but something more abstract and unquantifiable, something more invaluable and inexplicable.

And in my attempt to pay forward or pay back what I owe and will owe, I continue.