The grind

I often pause to think every work day just before I reach for the elevator button. It taks about twenty seconds for it to reach the ground floor, barring stops along the way. In those 20 seconds I find myself wondering how ill at ease I still am over being in the corporate scene.

Suit and tie, organisers and filofaxes, memos and performance targets...

It feels so alien all of a sudden and then there is that supreme urge to turn and run full flight. Run away from the prison of office work, stale food and caffeine addiction. Where you get a balanced diet of corporate meos, client compalits and unending software updates.

Wasn't it easier when all you had to worry about was staying alive and avoid getting sued.

I try and think about the last time I talked to my old professor about writing. She said I could make an impact and shape the world. ot seems the onnly shaping I am up to lately is the clay I mold for stress relief.

Ping.

The elevator arrives and I get in. How sad. It seems that the elevator music has a more somber and funeral march tune today. By the time I step out of it this evening, I feel more have my being has been lost in the elevator. What ever it was, was left behind when I went up, or stayed behind as I came down.

Tommorow, I lose a little bit more.