In my almost eight months of working as a young adult, I can definitely say that the real world is just a level up of college. Nothing is hardly different in this world I am now moving in compared to the jungle that is the university; you wake up at 6 a.m., get ready for work, eat breakfast, then commute to work. You work your ass off for eight to nine hours, and then you go home, eat dinner, have some time with family then sleep. The whole routine is repeated for the next four days. Same shit. Different day. Like clockwork.
In college you have your professors who give you this work and that work and the load just keeps on piling and piling. You try to find an easy way out but you know deep in yourself that the only way out is to work on the loads one piece at a time. But the loads have a disobliging habit of requiring you to work at them together at the same time.
In college you try to find a system that will help you manage all these. The corporate world is the same. Two different worlds. One common system.
But one common denominator of college and working is the so-called ‘hell week’.
In college, there is such a thing as “hell week” and it pertains to that time of the quarter where teachers mentally induce invisible and non-existent hemorrhage to students. It’s all about sleepless nights, multicolored highlighted notes, sachets of 3-in-1 coffee mixes and a bunch of chips to keep you hanging on that little piece of thread called hope. Clinging to that and praying it all comes to and end soon.
Eventually it will.
In the corporate world, the last week of the month is the toughest and hardest times to come by. You’ve got to battle your way out but working extra shift to hit your target for the day. You’ve got to think out of the box to be able to cut the chicken loose. Be extra strong because as the saying goes, you have nothing and no one to count on but yourself.
My hell week started last Monday when it was starting to make sense that I have little to none chance of hitting my target. I decided to let it go even the thinnest strand of hope. It was depressing and frustrating all the same. I wasn’t sure anymore of what to do. Thoughts scattered, faith shattered, confidence tampered, accused of hoarding, all I want to do is run.
Then I found myself asking the same old question I kept asking myself the previous month: whatever wrong was I doing?
For the last three months, I don’t know what wrong I’m doing and why I can’t hit my target. I know for a fact that I’m doing the same thing I’ve doing the previous months but this time, what changed? I tried different strategies to help me cope up but every time I try a new one, I always end up one step behind instead of forward.
Despite the stress and toxicity, I did what I have to do. Because I have to look into the bigger picture. I have to help the team the best way I can. I don’t want to be the weakest link.
What I learned though is this: everyday is considered as miniature hell week. Everyday, we have ti battle our way out to deliver. Everyday, we are given the chance to make better, to be better, to be the version 2.0 of ourselves. It was made like that to prepare us for the real hell week. Every second might be torture but it will make us strong. The question perhaps is, until when can you hold on?