05:00 PM meeting on Friday to discuss month end balance sheet, before that get all the weekly statements of expenditure, expense and revenue. Then calculate the profits and loss for the month. One of Arnold’s many tasks as an accountant in a major bank.
Life was pretty good, or was it?
No criminal background, clean slate, no backlogs in degree and high flying academics. Atta boy, you are eligible for all the marquee courses in sciences, accounting and engineering, but there is a problem. Just like you there are million others who are vying for the same courses and then the job that requires the eligibility of completing the course and eventually doing something else at work.
Yo boy, you need something more. You need to join boy’s scout and then the military and then the orchestra and then the community service and then you will make a good candidate.
Alright said Arnold and he did all of them, in the same order and with great intensity, to finally land the job of an accountant to kiss someone else’s ass.
Arnold was pretty good at what he did, though he felt he was not able to go to the next place. Quarter and quarter passing by and his name for promotion was being pushed far and far to space. Arnold found it hard to see his friends climbing up the corporate ladder in their respective chosen profession. This just does not make sense.
I am not a prodigy. I have not followed the Malcolm gladwell, 10000 hours rule into doing anything. I hate to be in the same place, I want to grow, but somehow it just does not seem to happen at my work place. I know for sure, this just does not feel right, and that is why I am unable to innovate and do beyond what is required to be called excellent, exceeded beyond expectations.
And there was Arnold, at the cross roads, ready to make a decision. To hell with all this corporate world and growth structure, I don’t dig it. I have been patched up with this for a long time now, if I want to do the best of what I can then I will have to find what works me the best. And then Arnold, resigned from his work, along with lot of greetings of pity he got lot of caveats and bread butter advice’s from lot of friends and family on how he was throwing his life away.
Throwing away my life would be if I have to do that work again, something I am good at but not inspired by. Something I do not feel empowered by, something which is not challenging me in all dimensions, something which is not helping humanity in a way I want to and something which does not occupy all my consciousness.
Like a son leaving the house to find his destination, Arnold left not just his job, but also the city and all the people he knew. He wanted to find a new identity, the one which was not influenced by his past, pure and sanguine.
He was walking down the street of the new town, and the road was slowly leading to somewhere quite, as the sun was starting to fade away and nowhere to go, Arnold was savoring the moment. No pressure of future and no trepidation of past. He was a bird freed from it cage into a wild forest, where either he could grow stronger from the freedom available or die from the vagaries of the nature.
He heard something, a blues rhythm, mellow and sweet, which hits you a bit and goes away; you can’t bit and chew on it. He followed the sound which took him on many detours to finally land in a place which looked strange. Lot of cardinal spray paintings, bold, outrageous and secluded. There was an old man, fidgeting the rhythm of blues on his old fender strat, with the smoke of the cigar in his mouth, creating an aura of brilliance around his head.
Hello, I am Arnold, I heard your rhythm, it was nothing like I ever heard or radio, TV or internet. What is it, Could you please explain? The old man did not like Arnold’s gesture; this is not how things work in this part of the world. Not everyone is a friend and you cannot expect a stranger to come to your door and ask for the secrets of your life’s work. The old man just went inside and closed the door.
Arnold was disappointed for sure, but he also knew that he had to leave behind all that corporate business minded culture and the knowledge of past; he had to start from scratch. He had planned to work in nearby farm to help grow rice and in the meantime he decided to research on the old man.
Note: this is a short story of fiction, and the character could be anybody and this should be treated purely as fictitious. The story will be followed up further, please wait.