My time is 03:43 am, I can’t sleep, so I jump out of bed, and stare at the computer screen, arguing with myself if I need to publish this or not, let alone write it. It feels too personal, and I am afraid that it will only show weakness on my part. It’s been a while since I wrote something here, and I like to start strong, but this is different. It is almost like a confession.

A few seconds later, “Screw that” came out of nowhere, and my fingers went flying on the keyboard.

Pardon the introduction.

I started hating the workplace. I do not know when it started exactly, but I have a feeling that it started when I got promoted. Getting in the management team changes little to one’s perspective, I have no problem with the type of work, in fact I love it. I enjoy meeting new people, training these people and seeing them flourish in a very competitive environment.

My only problem is the lifestyle difference between most of my colleagues and me.

Have you encountered the term “First World Problems”? Google it. Do it for me. If you don’t want to, then please allow me. Let me do it for you. 

This normally happens when the upper management team decides to invade our pod and start to use our stations. The stations that they assigned to us so we can do what they asked us to do. I hate it when they start to get together in the commoners area and start to talk about their expensive stuff.

Stuff that I could only hope that I could have.

I hate when they start to talk about golf.

I hate when they start to talk about their cars, and how terrible it sounds. I especially hate when they start to talk about their spanking, brand new car and how affordable it is, with a seven digit price tag.

I hate when they start talking about their vacations, that we all deserved and badly needed, but since we are lower level managers, we couldn’t get.

I hate the fact that most of them are filthy rich that “they don’t even need to work” but is working because “running their own businesses bore them”.

I hate the fact that I hate them for all of this. It is sad to say, but I am envious. I only hate them because I don’t have what they have, but to tell you the truth, I may be speaking their same language if I were in their shoes. I can’t blame them totally. They are just talking about things that are natural to them, and are not intending to make other people feel what I feel.

Or so I am hoping.

My fiancee reassured me that such was the case. But I still can’t shake the feeling off.

I would like to tell them to maybe shut up once in a while and stop talking about how much money they have, while their subordinates talk about their almost due bills, their financial burdens and responsibilities.

But I can’t, and I probably won’t.

I don’t blame them being born with a silver, or should I say golden, spoon in their mouths. I can not blame my parents or anyone else for what life I was born in. I especially can’t blame them for only having to work for themselves and still have their parents’ businesses to sustain their otherwise crazy lifestyle.

I can only work my way out of it.

That’s my confession. If I am the only one who ever felt this way, I guess I’ll look for someone else to talk to.

End of rant.


2 thoughts on “Envy

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