Mondays, at work, are boring...

And, so are the other days.

I wasn’t born with a silver spoon. I was born with a stainless steel spoon – Silver in colour. Mom greatly desired to see a Doctor’s title before my name. Dad coerced me to become an Engineer. My brain wasn’t capable enough to do both.

Got done with my 12th grade. I narrowly avoided humiliation. I passed. Just passed. The Doctor’s title in my Mom’s mind broke down. My Dad started thinking of donation as an option in Engineering colleges. But, with the kind of score that I had “achieved”, neither influence nor donation would have helped me get a seat.

My friends were as bad at studies as I was. Maybe a little better. A lot better, they might think. But, all of us ended up in the same college. Same course – B.Sc. It sucked. I was getting worse than ever at studies.

2nd year of my graduation. I flunked. And it didn’t matter to me. I was doing it only for the sake of my parents. For them, it mattered. Because, they were the ones who had to listen to the whispering gossips about me. They hated it. They hated me.

Repeated my 2nd year. Passed. Just passed. That didn’t matter to me, either.

3rd year of my graduation. I flunked. The same old story repeated. Mom getting hassled in her head. Dad’s blood pressure rising high up in the air. Flaring tempers, non-stop tears, high tension, etc. became a prominent part of my household. They didn’t know where was I heading in my life. Neither did I.

Repeated my 3rd year. Had not studied enough to even scrape through. Luckily, got to copy in the exam hall, in all the exams. Passed. Just passed. Despite copying.

PHEW! I was a graduate. A Maths major.

I didn’t have any aim in life. Quite a coincidence - I was bad at lagori, too. During the ‘aimless-in-life’ time period, I used to hang around with one more aimless friend of mine. He had told me about some uncle of his who was a writer in Advertising. ‘How cool’, I thought! I started enquiring about colleges that offered this course. A course, where there’s more fun than studies. Found a college, who didn’t bother to ask me about my graduation marks. Lucky me.

Post Graduation Diploma in Advertising & PR. It was a one year course. I majored in Copywriting. I always thought “Copywriting” were two words. I passed the course with flying colours. (ha ha ha ha)

I found my passion – Copywriting. Ya jackass!!!

For most of my friends, it was a job where I had to Copy and Write. They thought, how easy can a job get. They still think that. (Bloody idiots)

First job – Energy. Confidence. An unshakable belief. Dedication.
I was incredibly passionate about my job. I demanded more work, all the time. I was keen on learning more. I was inquisitive. Just like a newborn baby. I worked the whole day on Saturdays, too. It was a half day. The so-called half day! Monday I come to work to realise that I am the only one looking so spirited about coming to work.

I stuck around with them for almost 2 years. In those 2 years, I learnt what I had to. Learnt what I wanted to. I, then, called it quits.

Second job – Hard work. Late nights. A shakeable belief. Dedication, maybe.
I was still passionate about Copywriting. I was a hard worker, if not. Never was NO an answer to work.

Applied all my learning in here, trying to impress my boss. Didn’t work. He sucked. I sucked too, a little. Although, my hard work was appreciated. That sort of kept me going. I was a regular at work on the weekends. Sundays, included. Out of the 2 years that I spent there, there were many Mondays where I had thought of taking an off. But, I never did.

Third job – Hard work. Late nights. A shaken belief.
The number of working years kept growing in numbers. Inversely, my passion to work kept coming down. Although, nothing stopped me from working hard. I kept pushing myself to stay on board, to stick around with Copywriting. I kept fooling myself. I continued. Out of the 5 months I spent with them, I had worked on quite a few weekends. There were many Mondays where I thought of taking an off. And, I did.

Fourth job – A chut, me and a big place.
I was working at one of India’s best Advertising Agencies (big place). But, my intrusion was unseasonable. There couldn’t have been a better time, anyway. I wasn’t enthusiastic about Copywriting, anymore. That itself was dispiriting. To top it all, I sucked big time at my work. Quite obvious, I guess. To make things more regretful, I had the worst Boss (chut).

Extremely bad combination. Extremely all-that-is-wrong. Mondays were punishing here. 2 months is all it took for the chut to show me the exit door. I was happy for myself.

Fifth job – Doing it. Just for the heck of it.
If a survey’s taken, this might top the list of the shittiest places to work at. Oh, wait. No need of the survey. I am sure about it.

I chose to come here. Money dragged me. And, I couldn’t resist. I am still here. It’s been 5 months, and I am absolutely unhappy. Not because of this place, but I’m still doing what I don’t want to do. I am just floating through this job. I guess, I like the word ‘employed’. I get bored on Sundays, too, thinking about this job. Imagine my state on Mondays. It can’t get worse.

Sadly but truly, I have no enthusiasm left in me to find my passion, my supposed ALIVENESS. Rather evident that Mondays, for me, are boring. And, so are the other days of the week.