A Serenade For The Innocent 87 Career

Calls.

Speak.

Laugh.

SMILE!

Laugh.

Speak.

Calls.

Sleep.

It's a stagnant life that will start the same way and end without any changes. There is absolutely no joy to it for the ordinary people, but it is one that I enjoy very much more than anyone might have otherwise believed if they look at me at first glance.

I am working as a salesman in an old company that is still relatively small even after being in service for three decades. I know that that should be a visible red flag for me to leave this place, but I was a recently graduated man with 0 experience at literally everything. I don't have a college degree, and I have no connections to lift me somehow in the corporate world. After seven months, I will finally be in this company for five years already, and that is when I'm planning to file my resignation and leave this place for good once I've had ample experience to find a bigger and better life outside of this s.h.i.+t hole.

Until then, I have to endure my life with my s.h.i.+tty salary, my s.h.i.+tty coworkers, my s.h.i.+tty boss, and my s.h.i.+tty job.

Well, I say that my job is s.h.i.+t, but I actually love what I am doing. It is a career I wish to have forever because I enjoy whatever I'm doing here. The environment is s.h.i.+t for sure since the people here are equally as lifeless as the ones who are controlling them from above the corporate ladder, but the job itself is something that I believe is made for me.

I like talking to people; I feel triumphant when I see people buying my products after giving my pitch, I love doing presentations a whole lot, and I enjoy the company of people who will listen to me speak. I feel like I was made in this world solely for me to talk about the language of sales and sell everything that I can to everyone who would notice.

The only problem is not being a salesman; it's the company where I am working at that gives all the issues for me and cause me a whole lot of stress in every waking moment of my life. It's a company that focuses on creating school supplies, particularly pens and everything plastic related. At a core, the company is just a bunch of people selling plastic to students and teachers. It's a f.u.c.king drag; there's no room for me to pitch an improvement and no place for me to speak my mind to make our products better because, I mean, come on! Think of a ball pen! They're plastics that contains an ink you use to write some s.h.i.+t; there is no other innovation in that field, that's just the way it is! It was a ball pen now, and it will always be a ball pen in the future. I would then go to department stores, bookstores, and other local businesses to sell those stupid ball pens, and I... Haa... Who listens to the ball pen seller?

So all I ever do every day is to write a report about the G.o.d d.a.m.n ball pen and how many people sell then and then talk to the same people about the d.a.m.n ball pen and say, "Hey, you wanna buy ball pen again?" and they'll be like, "sure! Ball pens are cool!"

It's the same G.o.d d.a.m.n f.u.c.king stupid loop that will never change, never improve, and never be fun! As a man in his twenties, I feel like I'm wasting a huge chunk of my early adulthood being here. Still, after going through many companies and seeing countless people telling me the same songs about my lack of experience, I found myself sitting in this lousy office, selling ball pens instead.

To be fair, I'm very good at my job. VERY. VERY GOOD! No one can ever tell me in my face that I am doing a s.h.i.+tty job, not even the people around me who hates my guts, none of them have a say on my work ethic, and I can continuously show yearly, monthly, and weekly reports that my performance never fails. However, I still am here in the lowest part of the company, doing the same old ball pen routine without many changes.

And I hate it—I hate it so much. I hate being the ball pen guy. I hate being the b.u.t.t of everyone's jokes. Sometimes I would ask myself what I did wrong and call on to G.o.d to tell me what I am supposed to do, but nothing ever comes to mind, and no one ever speaks from the high heavens.

I am just supposed to endure to be the ball pen guy some more to be a member of a better company and suffer whatever bulls.h.i.+t that one has to offer next.

I hated it. I hated that life.

Which is why it's such an ecstatic moment in my life brightened a whole lot when I saw that email in my phone coming from my phone.

"Thank you for your service with us here in PaperWorks Co., Ltd.Find authorized novels in Webnovel，faster updates, better experience，Please click for visiting.

Today, the company found itself in a dire moment in its proud 33 years of service as it faces bankruptcy. We regret to inform you that we will be laying off our branches in Los Angeles, Miami, New York, and..."

I don't know whatever else the email contains. The only thing I know is that I one thing else to do. I barged into my office without showering, still in my pajamas, and with my bed head still unfixed. I saw my coworkers glaring at me for one last time as they slowly took their stuff from out of their tables with dejected expressions.

I was the only one with an ecstatic look on my face. Okay, I have to admit that I am quite saddened that this didn't happen a bit later when I've already managed to garner a five-year experience, but still, the fact that this s.h.i.+tty company is finally going down the drains is such a surreal thing to me that I still pinch myself to rea.s.sure myself that I am not dreaming.

I took all of the s.h.i.+t in my table inside of two huge garbage bags and went straight to my fat and old boss. It was the best time to do that one thing I had always wanted.

Well, it took two hours, but I managed to scream at him freely with all the profanities I could ever say, knowing that I will never see that f.u.c.king fat f.u.c.k ever again. It was an absolutely blissful experience, and I am so happy that he retaliated enough to prolong our fight for two hours. I kinda wanted him to punch me too due to his frustrations so that I could sue his stupid a.s.s. He didn't do that, though, which is a shame.

I then went around to find a better job right the next day with a ma.s.sive grin on my face. Telling my mother all about the bankruptcy wouldn't be needed because I know that my life is finally starting now! I will finally be able to show everything that I can do to the world.

At least, that's how I envisioned it.

After a week of going through one company after another, I almost broke like a brittle gla.s.s after seeing that no company would ever hire me. I never thought it would ever be possible, but after seeing that I was affiliated to PaperWorks, the employers would refuse me right away without even an ounce of gentleness or glee. They would just plead or scream for me to leave and never come back. One employer was kind enough to inform me that it was because of a financial fraud that led to the destruction of my previous company, and now, no business firm would even accommodate any of the company's former employees. Perhaps, I was hasty when I said that the person who told this to me is kind because after informing me all these, he pretty much called the security guards to drag me out of the office, ensuring that I would never, ever lay my finger on any of the company's properties.

I couldn't understand it myself. I looked it up, and, indeed, PaperWorks was now facing some huge s.h.i.+t because of some f.u.c.ked up stuff they did for the past decade, but I am at awe as to why every employer would look at me with disgust or contempt right after seeing my affiliations with PaperWorks. I tried going to another smaller company while hiding my experience with my previous employers, but somehow, they would still know that I once worked there and kick me off their building right after.

It felt like I have some kind of curse or something. Luckily, Jimmy gave me that 100 grand, which is why I'm still eating these days properly, but no amount of cash is big enough to last forever, especially not a hundred thousand dollars.

Thus, when I returned to my room after yet another failed attempt to find a job, I dropped all the things in my hands with an awe-struck look on my face. Somehow, as the doc.u.ments I was carrying fell onto the floor, I didn't feel like my body's heaviness lessened at all—quite the contrary. As I saw the doc.u.ments scattered all over the floor, my body almost fell so hard that I could faintly feel like the strength of the earth's gravity had strengthened somehow. I tried my hardest to smile all day to beg for any position they would give, but it only made my cheeks hurt. I bowed so many times this week that I could feel my spine straining so hard that I wouldn't be surprised if I'm already a hunchback tomorrow. I wanted to cry, but I have my eyes open for so long today that it couldn't produce any liquid anymore. I touched my wall as my legs slowly surrender from fatigue, making my knees touch a few doc.u.ments on the floor, forcing me to see the name PaperWorks forever engraved in my life and corporate record. I shook, but I don't know why. Was it sadness or anger? Why am I sad? Why should I be angry? I am so tired that I couldn't see well. My stomach was so empty because I didn't stop even for a little bit to get some snacks. I couldn't even utter a word anymore because my throat is so dry after speaking strange nothings for an entire week. I wish to scrub the grease and dust off my skin in the shower, but I'm not sure if I even have the energy to lift my hands to do that.

Wait. This is happening way too fast.

What the f.u.c.k?