Corporate

There is a persistent hum in the office. It’s the overlapping voices of workers in online meetings, putting on their headsets the way soldiers strap on helmets before battle. The pre-battle ritual before the helicopter lands and the dial connects: take a sip of water, clear the throat, plaster on a smile that will be received by no one.

They adorn the signature gang colours: black, grey, navy, white, pink (to show you have personality), checkered plaid (to be adventurous). Gold tooth becomes a gold-rimmed watch; gold chain is replaced by gold engraved desk name plate.

The view from the top floors is picturesque—sapphire harbour and crystalline gleam from the city architecture. We are lucky enough to enjoy it in three different ways: one, leaning back in our rolling chairs; two, through our virtual wallpapers (a holiday without being on holiday); three, as a LinkedIn banner perched high and mighty above our numerous accolades.

The day is filled with Very Importants: “I’ve got a very important meeting to get to”, “it’s very important we get this done right” and “due COB: very important”. They come on the back of a flying email or drop like bombs into the middle of a call, or are often pegged on a clothesline of notifications. They are the Uncle Sams of the corporate world, telling you that you are essential in the army of a thousand ants, and that company success hinges on your ability to fight off sleep and finish the slide deck.

You wake up once day and notice how unsatisfied you are, and reflect on whether the end justifies the means. You pocket that thought, schedule it for a time when you have acquired enough mental health leave, or perhaps piggybanked enough into your accounts.

You accept compensation with weathered hands. You commute home with the other businessmen in silence. The world moves on.