On 5 April 2021, I will begin the next, and quite possibly the last, phase of my life.
I will be joining GIC, Singapore's sovereign wealth fund, as an associate in the communications department.
This job opportunity arose because I did well during my internship there in 2019, and the company offered me a full-time conversion after I had graduated.
It's a good place to work, the pay is fair, and there are nice employee benefits. Overall, I feel extremely fortunate to have landed such a plum posting. Many other people, especially those who have similarly severe medical problems as I do, aren't so lucky.
So barring any major catastrophes, such as company upheaval or if they decide to can me for some reason, I intend to stay in this position for as long as my body can hold up to the rigors of a 9-5 (technically 8:30-6) workday.
I'm under no illusions and I want to make it very clear: this is in all likelihood going to be my first and last job. I'm probably going to die in it.
With every year that passes, I get sicker and weaker. It's a classic "the spirit is willing but the flesh is weak" situation. Mentally and personality-wise, I've made so much progress over the past five years. It's just a shame that physically, I'm going in the opposite direction.
But while I'm still in decent working order, here's what I'm going to do. I'm going to be the consummate professional. I'll get the work assigned to me done to a high standard and in a timely manner. People will come to know me as the reliable one, the go-to guy if you need something to get done. That's always been my strength and what I enjoy: getting shit done.
Here's what I'm not going to do. I'm not going to go all-out in climbing the corporate ladder. I'm not going to be one of those types who does everything possible to stand out and be noticed so that they have better promotion prospects. I'm not going to burn myself out trying to please everybody and be all things to all men. I have boundaries, and I will guard them. I'm done pandering to others. It's time to live for myself.
As they say, I'm here for a good time, not for a long time. Living on borrowed time as I have been for the past 21 years has a way of putting into perspective what's really important in life: personal relationships, satisfaction with your daily life, and doing fun stuff while you still have the ability to do so.
There's no point cutting out the time you spend with people who make you happy, turning your life into a grind, and sucking every last bit of joy out of your existence, just to get a better-sounding title and an extra couple of hundred dollars.
My plan is simple. Do my job, and do my very best at it. No less, but no more either.
That way, they can't fire me, because I'm doing my job well. But I also protect myself, and can live out the rest of my days happily.
Note: Every time I write something brutally candid like this, I feel the need to clarify in case someone panics and starts calling IMH on me. No, I don't intend to off myself. I'm just stating the facts: I feel terrible in terms of my health these days and very likely won't survive long enough for things like career-building to matter. Let me put it this way: when the inevitable medical catastrophe happens to me, I'm not going to be one of those people who fights for their life. I'll just give in and let whatever happens happen. In my case, living a long life is literally the worst thing that could happen to me, because it would condemn me to many more years of watching myself slowly die until I become nothing more than a slightly intelligent vegetable. Besides, my parents are getting old and me being around when they're really elderly or worse, dead, will be an utter disaster for all of us. No thanks, I'd rather quit while I'm ahead and go out with the remains of my dignity intact, and have my parents still hale and hearty enough to make sure my wishes are properly seen to and then they can go off and do fun stuff for the remainder of their lives. But while I'm still here, though, my number one priority is safeguarding my own happiness. That's all there is to it. And nobody is going to take that from me.
