Not too long to go – Part I

If you would have told me about a year ago that I would be leaving my job just after working for about a year I would have scoffed in disbelief and told you I am not a quitter. I had developed a penchant for being tenacious during my university years and as well as my working career and I wasn’t gonna give that up so soon.

And yet here I am after about a year leaving my job. This one year has been a whirlwind of a journey.There are times I do try and take a step back and ponder over the last 12 months. Just 12 months ago, I was excited to be starting a new chapter in my life. A new found romance, a purpose to life for, I had finally felt I was set. This was it. The job that I had successfully gotten was the icing in my cake to celebrate as I prepared to enter a new phase of life. Heck, I even managed to be a proud owner of a brand new condominium in KL. That was how confident I felt things were. I had every reason to celebrate, to give thanks and to be proud of myself.

I honestly don’t know. As I recall and look back to the first few months, I remember waking up early in the mornings and commuting to work. My commute would include either praying or listening to the daily gospel readings or just reading up stuff. Those were the early days I suppose. At work, although everything was new, I felt I was on the verge of unlocking some true potential of mine – there were instances where I felt that I was “in the cusp of something greater” – that despite the struggles at work that I was facing, I would triumph all this and achieve to greater new heights.

The irony of it all was that my fiancee and I both started our new jobs around the same time. Me with the bank and she, with a small PR outfit firm. It was only temporary she would say back then, something to pass the time before we get married. I was cool with that. After all, I had a lovely job, a good condo awaiting for us in 2 years time, what did I have to lose? Everything was going to be great.

But as we both started our work, I felt mine sinking while she was doing well. Now granted we both are working in different industries at different levels, I personally wondered why it was that I was struggling so hard at my new place? It often felt that everything I did was not up to expectations, which was very peculiar since many of my own peers and those were above me couldn’t even do what I did for my boss.  And then there was my subordinates. While they are really nice down to earth people, they are not exactly like my former analysts who were ambitious, hungry and dedicated to the job. To get these people motivated was difficult beyond words. I remember bringing this up with my boss a few times but I was often sidelined with comments blaming the situation on me – that I was the one that needed to figure out how to get them to be high performing.

To top it off, I didn’t really have any friends at work. I didn’t think I was unsociable or anything like that.

But I really struggled to connect with people at work. Again, it wasn’t that they were unkind or unfriendly. But there was just something missing, that spirit of camaraderie. It was different when I was in my previous place where I felt more connected with my peers. If I had faced difficulty I could reach out for help. Over here, I would eat lunches alone (and I still do most of the time after being here for 11 months) not because I chose to, but I really didn’t know how to connect with these people. They were just so…different. These things added even more to my workplace woes. (I didn’t realise how important these things were, like socialising at work and having lunches together with your peers and subordinates – being here really gave me a first hand experience of how painful it can be when one is deprived of that kind of socialisation)

It was a tough few months for me. It was a rocky start. Now when I look back I do ask myself whether I was expecting things to be easy? The answer is, well yes and no. Yes I did expect the culture and the pace of work to be different. But I really didn’t expect that it would be this hard. The work wasn’t that difficult, but it was adapting to the culture.

It was around the time of end of November. I was about 4 months into the job and the pressure and struggles were pilling up. No matter how much I did, it didn’t feel good enough. And having to keep up with the constant demands of my boss was slowly starting to ebb my confidence. I began doubting myself and one day, after yet another reprimand from my boss about how I am not following up on things I decided to confront my boss and I told upfront that perhaps I am not the right man for the job after all. And I broke down in front of my boss.

In all my years of working, I have never had any breakdowns. Yes I have gotten discouraged, frustrated and upset, but never to the point of breaking down. I didn’t know what was happening to me. But I broke down. I felt I couldn’t live up to such high expectations (I would later go on to learn that many before me who have been under my boss in prior years had also experienced feelings of helplessness and dejection – quite a number as a result had no choice but to tender their resignation). I was assured by my boss that I a doing alright and I was told to let my boss know if the line was being crossed and I was being pushed too far. I accepted that statement and began to work hard again.

But that breaking down really got me thinking whether this was the right organization for me. There is more to life then just a secured job and a pay check. I had always believed that if I loved what I do, I didn’t have to worry about working and money. But here over time, I slowly began dragging my feet to work – what started has optimism and positively responding to challenges quickly turned into misery and dragging my feet to work everyday.

It didn’t help as well that I started the day at 5.30 am, just so that I could beat the traffic and arrive at work by 8.45 am. Otherwise I would be marked as late in the system. I also hated the fact that I needed to let my boss know if I was coming late. I hated the fact that I needed to come up with some excuse to justify it. Slowly I began to lose hope and despair each day. My only longing was for the weekend where I could finally just rest my had. And once the weekend came I would just spend my precious two days relaxing and recovering (while trying to catch up with my studies)