Empty Seats

Posted by Abdel Kadz on Monday, February 04, 2008 with 2 comments
Came 5:00 P.M., I was left staring at empty seats, the seats that were once occupied by agents of our account’s budding project that received the guillotine just last week. Upstairs, on the fifth floor, three other teams underwent the same, catching everybody in unawares from the drastic directives of the bosses. Imagine you going to work, told the week before not to worry, only to find your things taken away from your workstation, asked to join the general assembly, told that the account is downsizing, that you’re about to be transferred to another account, that you’re about to lose your job.

Some from the office called this dynamism, but others are quick to point out that this is because of poor management skills, with the powers that be coming up with different measures that became business blunders at the expense of their employees. Now most, even supervisors, are asked to be call center agents. Most really don’t want to be part of this industry, however lucrative this might sound for most. They, me included, just do not have our hearts set out for this job. Some have forcefully taken this option that the company has laid out for them; others are having thoughts if they would continue on with their training. There are those who decided to look for greener pastures elsewhere and have given their 30-day, 15-day, some, immediate notice of resignation. Now looking at where they are from their Multiply profiles, their Friendster accounts, it seemed that leaving was the best decision they have ever made since being a part of this company, applying what they have learned (if any) and their skills they mustered for the benefit of their new home.

I sit here still, knowing that I’m about to join them, be part of a workplace where your officemates are within arm’s reach, your supervisor just a couple steps from where you are, eager to lend a hand. Everywhere you look is people that you’ve come to know, even formed a bond of strong friendship with. Yet when I opened my eyes, I am faced with rows of unoccupied chairs where friends once sat, once lent a helping hand, once shared lunch with, once worked with all the inaudibles and the misheards and every file thrown us at. My eyes are wide opened, yet all I see is an uncertain future. Tomorrow, the day after, next week, I may no longer be sitting on this chair that have provided financial comfort the better part of two years. Yet I’m willing to leave it for a bleak future, one future I am willing to tread as a reason to finally focus my attention on what I really intend on doing.

I open my eyes yet again, but it’s all empty seats that I see. But in time, it would no longer be.