Workaholic Reflections

Workaholic Reflections
14th May 2005

What’s wrong with the following situation?

Here I am, sitting on a Saturday night, all alone at home. I’m in no mood to party – I just want to relax. Listen to music, catch up with friends over the phone. Spend a weekend of constructive unconstructivicism. Sleep. Watch TV.

So what’s wrong with that?

Everything.

It’s the way I’ve been spending my weekends of late. Ever since Doc started his residency, our partying’s been happening on Thursdays or Fridays. So weekends are reserved for goofing off.

But this weekend, I’m tired, excited, wired, pepped up and dying for Monday to come. Unlike in the past.

Things changed around the time I got my increment letter. I’d started to realise that things weren’t as bad as I’d feared they were. That an award-winning ad wasn’t all that it took to make a career (though it does sort of shorten the time needed).

About that time work started to pick up. Scary took off for a client conference, and then sent me an SMS of praise. For a simple job I’d done, that looks good and should work very hard. Words of praise from a boss? Never before have I gotten something like that for something so small.

The other night our COO, Bossman, took Mister (my art partner), Scary and myself (among others) for dinner. As thanks for designing and writing a research report that’s rocked the corporate world, and has been very well talked about.

What’s going on, I wondered. Seems like I’m handling a lot more than I expected to. Suspicious handed over a trainee to me, who I’ll call Brashmouth. Suddenly a two-year old copywriter is asked to train an intern. Whoa there cowboy!

Suddenly I found that I’m enjoying work more and more. Coming in early to start, leaving late to try and finish. Despite the fact that I haven’t been too well – just got diagnosed with hypoglycaemia, in fact.

I’ve been roped in on a campaign that’s been going on for a while, and suddenly there’s light at the end of the tunnel. Two teams are on leave, and I’m taking up the slack. And going completely bonkers while doing it.

My day is now composed of work, toilet breaks, water breaks, two cups of coffee, lunch break, snack break. Of course, the flirting hasn’t completely stopped...

And, at the same time, there’s a ray of hope for three of my most prized pieces of work. Silent Assassin’s pushing the Father’s Day work; Loin, our senior VP has all but sold another campaign; and I’ve managed to revive a kickass catalogue. If all goes well, these three will do more for my career than anything else I’ve done – my promo film apart.

I’m dead tired. Exhausted. But remotivated, feeling happier and more confident about myself than I have in a long while. I’m sure my bosses have noticed – the way I’ve been working with them has changed. More joking, better judgement (thanks to Brashmouth, I’ve started to figure why stuff works and why it doesn’t) and slightly better ideas.

Life looks much better, all of a sudden.

There is, of course another spin to all of this.

Her pseudonym is Slappy.

She’s a little shorter than me, cute face (even with her glasses on), voluptuous, curvy – and good fun. Seems to be a sweet person. We got to know each other better while working on a film edit – and, before I knew it, we were getting closer. She’s the first girl in a long while who makes my heart beat faster – the last one was Legs; Sweetie was a different sort of chemistry – just thinking of her, or just thinking of calling her.

It’s not like Slappy and I are seeing each other. We went out once, and had a great time watching a crappy movie and then sharing a nice dinner. She comes over every day to say hi...and there’s a certain electricity every time our hands touch.

I don’t dare to push this too fast. I’m scared – of many things. Hurting myself is one of them. Rejection is another. An office relationship is, of course, another consideration. But Slappy’s never had a boyfriend. She’s the sort of person who wants to have just one relationship in her life. She’s never even kissed a guy. And my biggest fear is that somehow I’ll hurt her, destroy her ideals.

She’s out of town right now, and I’m actually missing speaking to her. Normally we talk a bit every night – most of the time it’s a chance for me to pull her leg. I was dying to go out with her again this weekend – but our next date(?) won’t happen for a bit.

I don’t quite know what to do about this – and I’m not too sure who to talk to. Groper, probably. Maybe I’ll call her after writing this piece.

Like I said, life suddenly seems rosy. I don’t know how long it’ll last. One thing I found out last year is that life is full of surprises (yes, the cliché is true). Crests and troughs, troughs and crests.

But as long as the crest lasts, I’m gonna ride it.

Yee-ha!