The clock ticked closer to eleven. I sighed, and resumed punching the keyboard furiously while they continued trading jokes and banters, their infectious laughter piercing the air.
I was not amused, though.
About twenty minutes later, I found myself in the elevator fumbling for my mobile phone, glad that I could get off at last. Still, I remained fearful of the possibility that the elevator might just choose to die on me at that particular moment.
“The concert just finished; we are back in our hotel room now. You didn’t pick up the phone at home. Were you in the shower?”
“Uhm.. I’m just about to leave the office.”
So I went home to a house devoid of its usual two-legged occupants last night. I had yet to hit the paranoid level, but all the same I could not neglect the uneasiness, the suspicions, the what-ifs. And really: there are countless possibilities, the many things that could have happened – and it played in my head over and over again as if I were watching myself in an action flick.
Oh, you know, the usual. Things like going home and finding the living room completely clean, a thick layer of dust at the spot where the television set used to be. Or everything blacking out as soon as you step through the door, and finding yourself with a thick bandage on the head in the hospital next, and with a very painful headache that just will not go away.
Or maybe I just happen to have a very wild imagination.
No, I do not like the idea of having to give my parents a few extra strands of grey hairs, and having them worried of my whereabouts. I get the feeling that they are not exactly happy with the nature of my job. This is becoming a weekly affair. I just cannot afford to have them stay up so late just to be assured of my safety – that is, to see me step through the door all in one piece, after a long day from work. Only then they can heave sighs of relief, and drag themselves to bed.
The only thing that could get me fairly excited about leaving that late at night on Fridays, is the idea of having an item meant for the next day’s public viewing already in your hands before the clock even strikes twelve at midnight.
Sooner or later, though, I think I will have to job hop.
But when? is the question.
(Another knock on the head, please. Looks like I just cannot stop talking about my workplace, eh?)
Everything was already well-arranged since last month – rooms reserved, transportation settled, application for leave approved. All that is left is the ceremony itself, which will be in two weeks’ time.
Then, just when I thought that dealing with the inefficiencies of the university management is fast becoming a thing of the past, they did it again.
They went ahead and changed the date of the convocation ceremony. And they were smart – very smart. They wanted us to confirm our attendance by the 22nd; yet they broke this piece of news to us on that very same day.
I am told that this has happened before. Tsk, tsk. They were so bright, they failed to notice the glaring mistakes they may have made before.
Everyone’s plans are so messed up right now.