Perhaps the most exhausting thing in the world is becoming an employee—imprisoned from 8:30 in the morning till 4:30 in the evening, while outside, the beautiful moments of life pass you by, leaving you deprived.
Your entire youth slips away in this cycle.
You cannot take leave without permission, nor do you get restful breaks. If you fall sick, no one believes you unless you show a medical report. Sometimes, even when illness is clearly written on your face, you’re still sent to the doctor just to confirm.
The nature of your job drags you into battles that have nothing to do with you and offer no satisfaction.
Every day, you rush in vehicles just to reach at a time set by someone else.
Your life becomes restless, your nerves strained. You take medicines—sometimes for strength, sometimes to escape mental pressure.
You constantly dream of a salary raise, hoping for a promotion. You read union news, wishing someday you might reclaim the rights taken from you.
But you’re not allowed to escape this prison until you complete twenty-five years of toil or reach retirement age.
And when that day comes, your colleagues will celebrate—your departure, your aging, your nearing death.
They’ll say a few farewell words, a tear or two may appear, but not for you—it will be for their own sorrowful state.
Your officer will hand you a certificate, a gift given in exchange for a life—a hollow token of sympathy.
And you’ll return home in silence.
The next morning, you’ll realize the children are no longer in the house, your wife has grown old, her hair turned white.
You’ll stare at her face in shock and wonder—when did all this happen?
Then, from the depths of your heart, a voice will rise:
Employment steals life and gives nothing in return. Fall do not for the illusion of a salary.
Strive to become someone who does things, not someone things are done to.
