Get Paid to Rant #15 - Life's Unfair

Start of the Storm

Two years ago, I applied for a job in an agency-an agency that is supposed to serve the public. Why? I don't know. Maybe because I want a job as soon as I graduate in college. Or I need money for my wants. Or life at our home is just boring. And I applied and was hired. I do my best....always. And that's what I did during my stay in that agency. Producing nice and great outputs. Working under pressure. Taking time to be kind to one and all (yeah, people are supposed to be kind every time, not just on christmas). Everything was going okay. Until....... Overtimes. Overtimes. Damn it! Overtimes. I know that's normal. However, we did overtimes because our boss couldn't do his job well. We had to meet every weekend just so we can finish the job that is supposed to be my boss' job. Sigh. He wasn't even busy on weekdays. He was playing musics, and surfing the net, and downloading movies. The nerves.

Fighting the Storm

But I don't care anymore. Maybe that's just his nature. I'll just work well, professionally, and let my outputs do the talkings. As long as nothing worse than overtimes would happen. I continued working. Until coastal assessments were mandated by my boss' boss to be our priority. At last, no more overtimes because coastal assessment takes four days or almost a working week (a man needs his rest, right?). Tuesday, I and some of my co-workers go to the target area (municipality or city) and lecture a presentation about an overview of coastal resources. The methodology will also be discussed briefly, since the assessment is participated by the residents there too. Wednesday and Thursday are the assessment days. Friday is for the presentation of the results. Weekends. Monday. And we're going to repeat what we did last week. Again and again until no more requests for coastal assessments. But requests kept on coming in. Tuesdays are for lectures. Wednesdays and Thursdays for assessment proper. Friday for the presentation of results. Again and again. For a 15,000 pesos monthly salary. For a very I-don't-care-if-you-exist position. I hate routines. Daily routines. I wanted to quit. I told the manager that I wanted to quit. I told him that I'm going to take a Master's degree. He didn't like it. He promised me a higher position, as long as I don't quit. Why? I'm bad and evil hahaha. Why would you keep me? I'm condescending and not a team player. Why would you keep me? But I grabbed the opportunity.

THE Casualty

Every training in our agency, there's a catering services. And meat, my favorites. There are socials too, where we can drink for free. My lifestyle hit me. And dehydration (from swimming) and stress from my job weakened me. Damn it! I'm sick. I was diagnosed with chronic kidney disease. I know I was at fault, but my lifestyle changed the moment I worked in that agency. So I kind of blaming them too (stage of grief, aye?) Because of the catering services that serve food with lots of preservatives. And meat, especially pork fat. Because of the unexplainable and unjust workload to salary proportions. Because I suffered from food posioning from a catering service that our agency hosted, in which the symptoms of my disease started. Because of the drinking events our agency hosted. Because my co-workers were bad influence. Because I was weak. BECAUSE EVERYTHING HAPPENED IN A BLINK OF AN EYE. BECAUSE MY 2017 WAS A MESS. BECAUSE MY LIFE TURNED UPSIDE DOWN THE MOMENT I STEPPED IN IN THAT F*CKING AGENCY. BECAUSE I'M ALSO TO BE BLAMED. BECAUSE.....I......AM......SICK...... Because I'm freaking sick. That's why I'm mad. That's why I'm ranting. That's why I'm crying. Silently. Every night. Because I am sick. A serious disease. And I'm just f#cking twenty-three years old. And my girlfriend left me because of this disease.

God! I just want to stop working. I can't handle this mess. But I'm stuck here. I need this job now. I need this. For my medications. For my dialysis sessions. For my kidney transplant. But it's so hard. Working somewhere that your heart does not desire. And it's not just me. My co-workers too. In fact, they've quit already. They left me here. With new co-workers. Who do nothing but play games and gossip and sit all day. Dumbasses. The company is paying you to work. Fcking sht. I already confronted them. But what do you expect happened? They listened and listened and promised to change but they didn't. Still doing gossips and games. My boss can't control them too. But he won't fire them. Now I feel like I'm the only one working- physically and mentally. Now I'm stuck here. Because of this disease. I want to quit. But if I quit, it would be very very hard to find a job. Especially that I'm a dialysis patient. I regret not taking the job offer from a government office before. Now I'm stuck here. At least I'm employed. But I don't settle for less. And I'm not happy anymore.

I'm ranting. To God. To life. To my agency. To my very self.

The moment my nephrologist told me that I have a serious disease, I vowed to be good. I'm trying to channel good vibes and be healthy inside. I tried and I was nailing it. Until my new co-workers came. It just took eleven months. And I'm evil again. Not good. It's because of my new co-workers. Because of my boss. Because of the manager. Because of the company I'm in. I'M A MOTHERFCKING MONSTEEEER -N. Minaj

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This is my rant. My inner thoughts. My id. But I know I have some role in almost everything too. I know it's not just someone's fault. But let me rant. Just let me rant. This will fade. Help me. Calm me.

Thank you.