A Collage of Micromanagement and Masquerades

Last week was a whirlwind. One of my professors finally defended his PhD, a momentous occasion that left everyone in awe. Meanwhile, another killed his father for being debt-ridden. The contrast was stark and unsettling, setting the tone for the week. It has been painting thoughts in my mind lately, filling my head with vivid images.

I decided to take a leave from work, my first in a long time. The reason? My new team lead. Once a close colleague, her promotion had transformed her into a micromanaging tyrant. She insisted on hovering over me or sometimes having me on her lap, her breath hot on my neck, as she nitpicked every detail of my work. Our relationship, once cordial, had soured. Her yellow highlighter slashed through my mistakes, while her use of a whitener to obscure my hard work and hardships felt like a cruel joke.

My family does not know I am on leave. I lie and sit in front of my computer, acting like I am working. I have been hiding a lot of things. Each click of the mouse the moment I (fake-)clocked in felt like another step deeper into the labyrinth of my hidden truths, where every corner held a secret begging to be screamed out. A week of leave passed by, which began with thoughts of accomplishing tasks and ended with the burden of being unable to accomplish them, with a garnish of regret for procrastination, of course!

But I did not entirely waste it. I fed corporations my same details again and again that I have been feeding since time immemorial to get a job. Inducing action verbs into my personality while keeping it compact and one-page since it is only an infant in profesh terms. Making it parse-able for the AI to grab it as someone exciting yet oppression-worthy. I did make one of those rejection email collages* to end this ephemeral week off. But I do not have an offer letter at the end to add the effect of success. Just a museum of failures. Normally, I delete one as soon as I receive one. I had a few lying around. Revisiting them was... fun and a masochistic ritual. The wounds are surprisingly fresh. It is good to keep picking up those past reminders of being unachieved and underqualified.

Amidst the chaos, there was a brief moment of joy. On Wednesday afternoon, I made sandwiches with my mother and sister. It was a rare, serene interlude. But even in that moment of nicety, my inner critic, the animal within, roared in disapproval.

- Oizys.

*Here it is: