Fairouz

“How are you doing?” and “How are things?” are the most common questions I get at work.

I answer both honestly at times, other times I would make stuff up.

Why would I make stuff up? Why don’t I seek genuine connection with my coworkers? well, because most of them are not like me.

I have no career aspirations, I love what I do for living but more than half of my time is spent not doing that, rather doing the things they impose on me so I can keep making a living.

If I don’t agree with the company’s goals and mission, and I have to lie to continue working there, I don’t see a way to build a genuine connection unless it is with someone else that shares my desire for enjoying the work and my disgust of what our employer is using our labor for.

Why can’t I just leave you ask? because the other options are the same (my options are limited by my nationality and financial duties), and when you present me with a choice between starvation and selling my labor to the next villain, I will choose working for the villain.

I will sure hate the villain, but I will not opt in for starvation!

What I do to reduce that harm and share my time and what I earn with community is maybe a topic for another reflection, this one is more about emotions.

Now that I set up the context let’s dive more into how I feel.

After every meeting I have with a superior, after cracking jokes I honestly thought were funny but were not honest when I acted like I had the energy to tell them, and after sharing parts of personal health or family updates that were legitimate but sugar coated, and after giving the impression that I care about what that superior thinks of me and my work, I end the call and feel how tense every inch of my body is!

How long can I hold this up? no idea!

I would eventually reach a limit that is impossible to exceed, that’s when I switch jobs, get few weeks of down time to recover a bit, go to the nail salon, change my hair color, visit the spa, and get high as fuck and eat lots of pizza.

I start a new job, start a new journey of complicated maneuvers and pretentious interactions, I find more reasons to feel sick about being part of this shitty industry, despise the fact that this is the only skill that can bring me money or joy, do my best to avoid a burnout, fail to do so, and start over.

Maybe if I cry I will feel better for a while, I revise my plans, I hope that one more year of this game is all I need and I can pursue a lower paying job without being blocked by the “homeland security” (aka gestapo) or being pushed to poverty and starvation.

It is never one year left, I don’t even think the goal post is fixed at this point, year after year things keep getting complicated, ethical ways to live keep getting harder and I keep needing to stay in this for a bit longer.

But when I practice fake social life for hours, does my real smile go away, does my smile become fake forever, does my brain forget how to genuinely smile?

I hope not, because earlier today a stranger saw me outside with my cat on my shoulder and said “She is so cute, you’re very lucky!”, I smiled at the stranger and thanked them, and I want that smile to be real, maybe I’ll practice real smiles, and maybe my cat is here to help me with it.