Working blues

Today I raised my voice to my boss. I might have overstepped my boundaries. Showing insolence even. But my patience was ground thin.

I had earlier reported to my higher management that some of our female students were being harassed by a male student intruding into our campus premises from a neighbouring institution. After careful reviews of CCTV footages, combined with the students’ testimonies fielded, a pattern of behaviour for this male stalker was emerging quite clearly.  He was clearly preying on some of our female students. At best he had problems calming his raging hormones to put them in check or at worse he was a sexual predator on the prowl and a pervert to the core.

But I failed to convince my boss that he posed imminent threat to the female population in our campus.  And that my decision to lodge a police report was the right thing to do. Instead I got reproached for over-reacting and mindlessly jeopardising the good relationship with our neighbouring institution. I was irked that he had not even requested to view the video footages for himself but was quick to adjudge that there was not enough ill-intent to warrant police action.

I voiced out my disagreement, perhaps too strongly.  In a blink of an eye, he turned beetroot red. That familiar hot flush on his face that betrays his ability to accept further divergence in views. Very obviously, my argument had fallen flat. I was instead getting on his goat.

I trudged back to my office, feeling downcasted and frustrated. A police report is what any responsible citizen should lodge if he or she had witnessed suspicious behaviour that smells of criminal intent. What more for an educational institution purportedly putting the safety and security of its students at the highest priority? Let the police carry out their investigation. That was all I was pushing for.

I spent the remaining part of my work day in a moody daze.

Times like this I wonder why I even bother to slog on with my job. Money-wise, with prudent living I am in good stead. But I wonder too if without such work issues to deal with, how would I deal with all that time on hand? Will I feel empowered, being independent to decide how I should spend my time. Or would I feel worthless and deflated? An idle mind is a devil’s workshop. Depression could fester.

I knocked off from work with the usual dark clouds hovering above. They are now my constant companions. Returning home to the sadness that is now a permanent fixture in my life. Wretchedness of life without my other half. I replay again as I did so many times since she had died. How was life with her like? I had her by my side for so many years and yet all this time together seemed so long ago. I had to struggle to recreate the memories. What I would do if I could just relive a single day of those 30 years, now bygone and all dried up.

Strange that back home I could detach myself so effortlessly from the troubles of the day at work. Blame it on my widower’s frame of mind, all soaked in grief. Surely, all other setbacks are like insignificant blips? Like miniscule molehills? Not least, a boss who does not appreciate my care for the welfare and safety of my students.