“Why do you even try?” I asked myself as I kicked the legs of the table. The table stood still, unmoved by my angst.
It wasn’t worth it to be a hardworking individual. You had to know the right people to get the right opportunities; make the right friends, say the right things. Diligence would be rewarded with endless tasks. And in the hours of burning midnight oil to complete these work, others were out socialising and making friends – with the right friends, saying the right things.
As I sat down to nurse my bruised toe, I began working on the files that had just sprang in height on my desk.
Why do you even try, I asked myself.