It’s
the end of the month. The optimistic
tone which has mysteriously appeared in the office is largely due to the
arrival of the long-awaited paycheck.
For
a brief moment, I was hopeful that the powers that be had finally figured out
an exhilarating motivational plan which would encourage the team to fight for the
company’s survival. But the reality soon
hits us in the face when one realises that it’s just another day in an abysmal working
world, battling through the tedious hours of internet surfing, while an
argument ensues over who will answer the telephone – unaware that it has been
ringing for over a minute.
I
take a break from my ‘overwhelming’ work schedule, and open my salary
slip. The amount highlighted at the
bottom of the sheet conjures up feelings of anger, dissatisfaction and bitter revenge.
Since March 2013, the Cyprus banking catastrophe
has forced management to seize a portion of my salary, justifying the cut due to
the”economic crisis”. The banks had
willingly offered a breathing period on all personal loans, but now that the ‘honeymoon’
is over, I am forced to meet my commitments with a salary, sufficient to see me
through the first week of the month.
The
escalating costs of living combined with the annoying arrogance that “one needs
to be greatful for one’s job – especially during these trying times,” has me walking
barefoot on a bed of burning coal. And,
despite the advice of “muteness” received from a group of close friends, I feel
the need to voice my annoyance in the form of a protest. After all, one should never have to sweat,
unless one is getting paid for it. In the
non-prostitute sense, of course.
After
the first week of mortgage payments, life insurances, school supplies, utility
bills and the odd trip to the local McDonalds,
I find myself home-bound with a surplus of cash enough to purchase a packet
of breadcrumbs. But for some strange
reason, my weight manages to remain constant, unopposed by the lack of funds in
the bank account. The war brewing in the
Middle East has my wife stocking on tinned foods, cleaning supplies and copious
amounts of water bottles, in the event of a possible apocalyptic showdown.
The
news networks zone into Israel and the crowds of people lining the streets for their
complimentary gas masks. As military build up continues ahead of a possible
Western strike against Assad, the United Kingdom sends Typhoon fighter jets to
Cyprus. Russia has parked a fleet of warships
in the Mediterranean, Turkey is backing the Syrian opposition and rebels, France
and Germany are threatening punishment, and Cyprus is rejoicing over a local
football team’s advancement into the group stages of the Europa League.
But
that infamous paycheck is staring at me from beyond the torn envelope. The appalling amount has warranted a series
of threats, and if management does not comply, I see myself waging a different type
of war.
Weight
for me soon. Paul
For more information on Paul Lambis, and to order his book online,
visit www.paul-lambis.com
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