My Boring Old Days

Would you consider yourself lonely?

No. I wasn't that lonely—or I didn't feel like it.

I was busy. Very, very busy. Plenty of people were busy. I had an extremely demanding job, being an accountant. My career wasn't just important for me, but for the company as well. Without me, would they be able to get those numbers right? Would they be able to realize if someone was trying to deceive the company? Would they even close the year with the exact amount of profits?

Yes. I was that important, I told myself. Sure, the company might see me as an expendable resource. But they obviously don't realize how much brains I have been putting into this job which is not something everyone would be willing to do.

Alright, I admit that I wasn't really enjoying my job. After all, I did feel tense most of the time. Who wouldn't?

I didn't have the exact spotless desk—in fact, it was my own pandemonium. A small pile of folders would sweep onto a bigger pile building at the side of my table. I was practically working behind a mountain of papers. The fact made no difference, either if I was on my full-speed or leisurely sorting out those folders, as another pile would still come knocking on my door each minute, no, seconds.

How many hours had I spent in the office?

8, 12, 14? It depended on office duty calls.

Did I have a lot of friends?

Probably—not really.

Apart from my colleagues for chit-chatting while coffee break or when they passed another pile of work. I basically didn't have lots of friends.

I didn't even have time to mingle around—I was still single and had never been dating for my entire 26 years!

My life sequence after college was straight to work. And since then, it only revolved around work, home, work, and home again. For five years, five damn years of my youth, I contributed to the company without taking a day off, working longer than others. I was a dedicated employee, my supervisor's favorite. Which was the reason they licked my boots, to gain my supervisor's attention.

Not that all the things that had happened unnerved me. But recently while sitting on the train line to work, I heard some not so good-looking guys on suit gossiping about work, how stingy and awful their boss, and lonely sex life. (Okay, for full disclosure: I even heard them talking about "inches". Yes, that "inches" for their manly comparison, not even lusting for that. For God's sake, no! We were on a train full of normal-not-sex-addict people).

Of course, I was eavesdropping. Their voices were loud enough to my ears—I was quite sensitive with sounds after all. They were having spirited discussions about various things when suddenly something about their talks made me staring at them, all dumbstruck.

Higher rates of people dying from overwork.

For an instant, I was so mortified I wanted to curl on the spot. Then, like some guilty sinner waiting for her death sentence, I felt another tweak of dread settling into the pit of my stomach.

I wasn't exaggerating. When I said I fulfill all the criteria of an overworking employee, believe me, it was true. This month I had reached 100 hours of working non-stop. Stress, extreme fatigue, sometimes my chest felt stuffed, metallic taste at the back of my mouth. Tick, tick, tick.

At this rate, I could be found dead sitting on my desk. The next day, the headline news would scream: 'A DEDICATED EMPLOYEE OF THE YEAR WAS FOUND DEAD!' A woman in her early twenties died due to overwork, and the company was sued by the bereaved family for compensation."

That was so likely of my family who called me only to ask for money. So, even until my death, money would be sufficient. Dammit.

No—no, Sara, I chastised myself. If these kept going on and on, I would end up dying as an old virgin, all lonely in under my cold grave and tombstone. Bad. This was really bad.

That was why for my new year's resolution, I was going to take my annual leave and have my freedom!—My vacation!

I glanced down at my watch. Nine fifty. Ten more minutes until my supervisor, Kenzou Watanabe arrives.

I could barely stop myself from shaking my legs as I was impatiently waiting for the only person who could give me the ticket to liberate myself from this weary and intolerable work-life...well at least temporarily.

Dreaming about my upcoming vacation, ten minutes passed without even me realizing it.

Then, I saw a face I recognized. One with a beaky nose. He maintained a neutral shape for someone in his late fifties. But his bald head and big tummy from drinking emphasized his features as an old man.

He was about six feet tall and was striding into the office, with the kind of thunderous frown a supervisor should have when your employee made a grave mistake with little details in a contract. He was none other than my supervisor, Kenzou-san. Arrived right on time, punctual as usual.

Taking my well-written annual form request, I got up and rushed towards him to his desk like a preschool kid rushing towards their father for asking a favor.

As soon as he saw me, the murderous expression in Kenzou-san's face changed drastically, then it was back to his cheery mode. He saw my antsy figure rushing towards him and his big-belly shook as he laughed, "Hahaha, what is making our Arai-san so jittery this early?"

I realized I'd forgotten to greet my boss since I was busy thinking about my leave. Surely, my supervisor treats me kindly like a daughter but I never tried to take advantage of it.

I then gave a 45-degree bow as I said, "Good Morning, Kenzou-san." With a clumsy smile plastered on my face, I continued, "Well, actually… It's nothing much, I just wanted to request your permission for something."

"Hmm?" Kenzou-san reclined to his chair. He had a surprised expression with his bushy brows raised. Of course, why would he not be.

In these past five years, I have never asked or requested for any incentives, sabbatical leaves, and whatnot. I was meticulous and always arrived on time at work without any screw-ups. Supposed, everyone in the company had seen me as an exemplary, the good employee. The workaholic ambitious woman who loves her job more than herself.

I supposed these five years had been enough to live up to people's expectations—my money-oriented family, fake nice colleagues, and employee of the year. It was time I should shove away these piling heavy weights on me.

Like big concrete blocks, scattering them away, one after one, I have to crush them away, to let myself alive again...

Kenzou-san wasn't surprised for long and said, "Oho, and for what kind of request would you be needing my permission for the first time in five years?"

This was my chance. I pulled a few strands of hair over my face and clenched my fist, with my other hand holding my form tightly.

I put up my best puppy smile possible and said, "Kenzou-san, these past few years I haven't had much of a chance to explore the world or even explore my life. I thought I needed a change of scenery in my life. Which is why I want to request for an annual leave so that I can come back refreshed with more passion towards my work."

"So, you want to take your annual leave?" His tone was still friendly but more businesslike. He was always a man who didn't waste words.

"Yes," I smiled. "Please." My smile almost reached my eyes as I emphasized on the 'please' part.

"And how long are you going to take your leave then?" Kenzou-san looked taken aback. "Then who will do your work? It's near the end of the year, you know better than anyone that this is the busiest month for accountants like us."

His intense dark gaze was making me feel a little bit nervous. But his questions were like what I had expected, even hoped.

I gave a pleasant smile. "The new intern guy"—what was his name again? Oh, right—"Takumi-kun is a graduate from a well-known university and he has been under my guidance these past few months."

Five years had made me learn Kenzou-san's behavior and way of thinking. Since I anticipated the "overwork death" might befall on me, I'd been planning, scheming for the right moment to execute my vacation proposition.

Luckily, a new batch of fresh graduate interns arrived at our company around four months ago, and this Takumi-kun was under my watch. Even if he hadn't come, I would have thought of other plans. My brain was my asset after all.

"He's a hardworking employee, I can assure you," I couldn't help sounding complacent, "I am sure he will do great in my absence."

"But what about the Sekawa Food Company's year end—"

"The Sekawa Food Company's bookkeeping has been taken care of." I cut in. Kenzou-san's expression was so incredulous I felt myself cheering. "I have asked them to email me their recent monetary report, and done calculations until last month's revenue. With Takumi-kun's current performance, I'm sure he'll do a very excellent job in assisting you."

The kid was aiming to become a full-timer here, of course, he would want to do his best.

I added, "Anything else, Kenzou-san?"

Satisfied with everything I planned, Kenzou-san had no choice but to admit defeat. He cleared his throat, "Show me your form."

I put the form down on his desk. "Please have a read."

He took out his pen from his pocket, again swallowing hard. "Are you sure?"

"Very much, Kenzou-san."

With a long drawn-out sigh, he signed on my form after skimming through. "Here's for the best assistant who finally asks for her annual leave. How long will you be away?"

"One month." Five years working non-stop sure had earned me enough days of taking off. Thirty days taken, and I would still have another eighteen days (as for the working contract, first year of working didn't count).

Kenzou-san exhaled sharply as though he was faced with this situation for the first time. He shook his head, giving a rest-assuring smile, "Well, wish you a happy holiday then, and an early merry Christmas."

"Thank you so much, Kenzou-san," I replied demurely.

I was about to bow and head to the HR department, when I heard Kenzou-san shouted, "Aira-san," so loudly that I swiveled back. "Aren't you forgetting something?"

Ah, my form! I was so intrigued that I almost forgot my foremost important weapon. I took a few steps back to Kenzou-san's desk. Sheepishly, I took the form.

"Don't forget to buy me souvenirs."

"Of course! Thank you again, Kenzou-san." I said, and flashed him a cheerful smile, meaning every word of it.

I turned back heading to the door, mentally congratulating myself for being so brilliant. Ah! I pushed my hair back. I could feel the air become lighter, fresher. Was the office always this comfortable? My new year's vacation, here I come!