Work issues tissues
It hasn’t been too long since my new old job began. New because I now work with a different publication and my focus in writing is no longer the same and old because I’m basically doing the same thing, doing business reportage under print journalism. It hasn’t been too long… but a lot has happened already as if there was never really a time for a total reboot from my past job.
I’m not complaining. I even thank the God of Journalism for helping me transport to a better place, if not the best one. In fact, never in my entire life that I would regret being where I am now. It’s just that, some work issues are getting in my way and as of now, beer is the only thing that can help me get through my dear fucked up work life.
What have I been doing wrong?
A few days ago, someone from the same newspaper that I work for got me defending on something I didn’t want to defend myself from. And I did because I owe this person a lot of things, one of them, he tipped off exclusively to me that this newspaper is looking for a business reporter so I could secure the spot. That reason, aside from the fact that he’s actually a good person in general.
It was a long story but and also for the sake of my disgust against sugar coating, he basically accused me of trying to intervene with the beat he covers. I mean, really? When all that’s running in my blood right now is my overwhelming gratitude of him helping me get into my job plus the shame every time I unintentionally upset him.
Honestly, all I want is to be able to get through a working day with a story that I can submit to my editor. In the beat that was assigned to me, unless I will be tasked to cover events, there’s really not much opportunity to impress except if I’ll get a big corporate registration statement, which a reporter from another newspaper who similarly focuses in this beat would also likely get. My only edge, I work for a bigger paper now.
My point is I don’t need to claim anyone’s status in this game nor that do I want to establish my own. I’m here to work, search for stories, and write them. If people would craft other stories on top of my actual purpose in this profession, then that’s not my problem.
Actually, it’s not this person that I’m mad at. It’s what he made me do that I hated the most. I couldn’t defend myself any better. I despise doing so. Like I told him before when the first of this series happened, I’ve always been in constant effort not to upset anyone, especially him, who has extended major help to me when I’m in desperate need to leave my previous work. I don’t like to explain. Being misunderstood over my silence has always been a preferred outcome. In other words, it all boils down to the basic principle that if you believe in me, you don’t need my explanation because if you don’t, you wouldn’t believe it anyway.
However, the socially acceptable truth should be otherwise. It tells me to stand up for myself and shield myself from whatever shits being thrown my way. But I’m just not like that. In fact, I partially lost my first love because I just don’t argue when all he’s asking of me is to say what I feel and to say how I was so mad of him at a certain moment.
I want to get drunk. The few shots of sanity injected through my head are killing me. Reality has started chopping off my poise and suddenly, I want to quit again even if I have barely started this new journey. The pins I stuck into the mute button quickly disentangled, freeing the extreme noise to swarm through my ears. I’m taking this really seriously.
When is this going to end? Why does it feels like this is actually where I am supposed to be and the happier person that I was a few days ago was just a phase? Don’t I deserve to be happy?