One of the traits that I notice about “working professionals” or the people who dwell in cubicles, is the fact that they have a curious pride in being under stress. If you talk to any cubicle dweller for long enough, you will inevitably hear them brag about all sorts of strange things like how many unreasonable tasks they were asked to complete, how many hours they spent in their cubicle and how they burnt their free time in the said cubicle. If cubicle dwellers were to form a single nation, they would probably the most patriotic nation around.
Cubicle dwellers get particularly snooty about people
who do physical labour. If you tell a cubicle dweller that you do physical work
and leave the paper work to others, they will inevitably tell you that you have
it easy. My current employer, for example, likes to tell me that I have it easy
because although I might strain myself in the sun, I get to go home and empty
my mind, whilst he continues to face all sorts of pressures. He has often
reminded people that he has spent half a decade begging me to study to get
qualified for Cubicle Land and I have refused.
It's not that I am ungrateful to the stint I had
there. I needed a steady income to build CPF reserves, which helped towards
paying for my home and Kiddo was growing at the time. It took a poor excuse of
a human who engaged us on an assignment for me to understand that the promised “career
riches” that Cubicle Land promised was not worth the price. The time spent
looking through what the awful wanted me to look through robbed me of time that
I could have had with Kiddo and the second income I was earning at the Bistrot.
Being expelled from Cubicle Land was a happy moment.
Modern life, particularly in an urban jungle like
Singapore, means that one inevitably needs to have some connection to Cubicle
Land and so, I try to keep myself on the periphery of Cubicle Land. I do what I
need to do to justify earning my keep from Cubicle Land. So, when the people of
Cubicle Land need me to carry boxes and run errands, I do so with joy. I treat
every trip to a construction site or a warehouse as a new journey of growth and
discovery.
As mentioned before, one of the best experiences that
I ever had in Cubicle Land, was an opportunity to work with the Ah Peks-in-Shorts.
The experience of working with this group was an eye-opener into the people who
make Singapore great – small time traders with a nose for opportunity. This was
a group who didn’t need top-down corporate structures to function. They were
individuals who came together, pooling their various skills to make their various
projects work. They looked after their people and I grew to admire for their thinking
which was free of constraints.
Cubicle Land is significantly less enjoyable – no, it
is downright disgusting when I had to look at files and read through documents.
Then, I am reminded of a time when I wasn’t beholden to bureaucratic masturbatory
fantasies. The act of looking at documents and creating spreadsheets, which
have no meaning otherwise fills me with a sense of self-loathing. It’s hard to
explain to people who have come to see a standard office job as an expectation but
the “normalcy” of Cubicle Land frightens me. It’s like this, when you hang out
with the Ah-Peks-in-Shorts, you feel energised. Their mindset is about how to
cut through the crap and maximising profits so that there’s more in the pie.
Hang out with Cubicle Land Dwellers and the conversations are inevitably about
how long they spend in their little part of Cubicle Land (which is, I suppose
logical, when you consider the fact that Cubicle Land Dwellers believe in being
paid for the hours, they spend looking at a screen, regardless of whether there’s
any profit for the person paying them).
I can’t live in Cubicle Land forever. I acknowledge
that I am close to the half century mark and with nothing to show for it, I
need to generate things based on whatever I have. Staying beholden to a Cubicle
Land is comfortable but its also the surest way for someone to be moaning on
their deathbed about the things they wish they did.
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