The Epiphany

Dear all, I am 25 years old and I finally know what I wanted to do with the rest of my life. Finally.

As I type this, I am frantically reading a listed company’s annual report, trying to make some sense out of it because ultimately, I am a woman who works a nine-to-six(sometimes ten) and am required to hand in an in-depth analysis about an oil and gas company whose operations will be affected by the new low in crude oil price this Monday. (I know you will start to yawn at this, please, yawn away). And oh, by the way, today is Saturday.

Currently, I am an analyst with an asset management firm, based in Kuala Lumpur. Typical day for me would start at 6 a.m. in the morning. After performing my prayers, I would start the day by ironing my younger siblings’ school uniforms, make them their Milos, and help them get ready for school. Then I start prepping myself for work, the usual every working girls’ routine. Makeup, pondering over outfits and off I go.

Breakfast for champion? “Nasi lemak, sambal lebih please.”

Madness starts at 8.30 am. Every. Single. Weekday.

Our department has a daily meeting ritual in which every person in the team is required to present their opinions on market events or a stock idea or an update of our work progress. Whichever way you go, you ended up being a stressball at a freaking 10 a.m. in the morning, because chances are you are going to end the meeting knowing that, upon your boss’s confirmation, A) your stock analysis lacks depth B) your opinions are too single angled or C) your working progress is akin to a 1 year old child learning how to talk. You would then scurry off to your work station with a huge frown on your face, and half hoping that please, oh please, you don’t have to attend the lunch meeting at the board room. Oh, you should know that I have the ability to chow down my lunch in 5 minutes. The rest of the day involves me running around in flats (heels for work? I’ll pass) across the office, 1 minute I am at the Bloomberg terminal and 1 minute I am at my boss’s room talking stocks/funds details, and 1 minute I am gulping caffeine like a true coffee afficianado. Shit, I almost forgot I have 3 reports to submit by end of the week.

Insane. Really.

I don’t want to scare you, but there are countless times that I found myself feeling deadpanned over this level of stress. Heartbeat quickened, eyes water, sweats-forming-under-armpit kind of stress. And if you are a person of good nature, you would turn into a phone-banging and curse-swearing barbarian one year into the job. Two years top.

“And for what?” I asked myself this question after 1 year and 4 months into the job.

No, I am not going to indulge you in I-quit-and-threw-tantrums-at-the-office story, because I didn’t.

But I realize what I did wrong. I was missing my work-life balance. I realized that I cared more about my paycheck than of myself. I failed to tell myself that, work aside, I need to hit snooze once a while, and think about what ifs.

“So, what if…”