With the day of my brother’s wedding looming on the horizon, and no sign of a give from Tyrants position, as well as no bite from the other job offer with the other company, I decided it was time to take matters into my own hands and spoke to another compatriot at the office, a different manager in charge of a different branch, with a department of 2, compromised of him and his senior accountant. I told him of my predicament, and he took pity on me. Not before however, Tyrant saw me in his office and ordered me out.





That day Tyrant informed me that it was within his ability to fire me and send me packing.



Luckily for me, help was on the horizon. Everyone was aware of Tyrants maniacal tyranny. Early one morning as I was sitting with another manager (I shall call him Mouse, and the reason as to that name shall be revealed later) and telling him stories of the hardships I have had to go through in Tyrants department, none other than Tyrant himself barged in and ordered me out of Mouse’s office, then proceeded to harangue Mouse for allowing me to waste office time. That single incident was the straw that broke the camel’s back Mouse came to my rescue and requested an internal transfer.



Tyrant finally accepted, much to his chagrin, to have the last laugh, he decided to record my transfer as having occurred at the beginning of the month, despite us being in the middle, so that my measly salary, in its entirety, would fall solely on the head of Mouse.



Mouse agreed, and I was finally free of my depression, which had manifested itself in a loss of appetite, lack of sleep, loss of weight and a general lethargy that had me dreading the idea of waking up in the morning, for fear of the clash that was imminent to occur that day.



Mouse was very kind, and his senior accountant was also a gem, her name was SMASH, she did not tax me much in terms of workload. The difference between the two departments was what areas of the empire they were responsible for; Mouse was handling agriculture, different retail and real estate. The main difference was, this operating system was in Arabic, whereas as Tyrants was in English. The reason Mouse requested me in his department was for my English, which proved to be the single greatest asset in my arsenal when applying for jobs.



Fate had it in store for me to learn to type in my native language, which seemed a daunting task at first, but I am thankful for it nowadays, as I can truly use the mantle of bilingual. And, it came in very handy, as later it shall be revealed.



The wedding came and went, and it was a glorious bash of epic proportion. Two weeks later I was back at work, striving diligently to prove myself to Mouse and work hard.



Luckily for me, Mouse’s department’s PCs came with internet access. And it is with this small gift that Fate and Destiny truly smiled in unison upon me.



Now, for all intents and purposes, I came to realize that this career was a dead-end job. One could not claim for a raise until a period of 3 years elapsed on their employment with the company. These were the words spoken by Mouse himself. I was in no position to argue.



Once upon a fine day, Mouse went on vacation, and left SMASH in charge; as I went about performing my diligent daily functions, it came to me, at that moment in time, to Google the term “accountant jobs in Kuwait”, and I came across a website, for a company I hadn’t heard of, in a position I felt I wouldn’t fit in, but nonetheless, I applied.



The one thing I had made at that local company was connections, and one of them was a rugged American contractor, Phil, who loved to walk about whistling. Upon hearing him speak I was instantly drawn to his office, which happened to be a mere couple of feet away from me, as it was the first proper accent I heard since first joining the ranks of that company.



After establishing a friendship with him, it was his advice to not be afraid to send resumes all over the world, and all over the country, never be afraid of a cold shoulder. Apply to jobs you are under-qualified for, no resume goes unread, and at most you will serve to increase their candidate pool, so that when such time occurs that they have an opening suitable for you, you will be contacted.



Mouse was not on the Phil-boat, he viewed him as a threat for some reason, as he was required to pay Phil’s salary through his department.



During this time, the company at Al-Ardiya once again decided to give me a call, having kept me on hold for 2 months or so, and inform me that there is another position open. I went and met with the same HR guy again, took another couple of exams and was ready to be made an offer to.



It was much less than the last offer they made me. In actual fact, it was the same amount I was getting paid currently with this company.



I toiled with the thought of whether or not to make the jump, negotiating with the HR guy for an increase, a mere 10% increase over my current salary. As it stood, I was being offered the same salary, but this company was much larger, hence the possibility of promotion was always there.



When I reached an agreement with the HR guy as to an increase in their offer, again, a mere 10%, it took me a day or so to cement the idea in my mind and call him back to confirm my acceptance.



I was shocked to hear him tell me he had found another candidate willing to do the job for less, and that my offer had expired.



I will never forget that HR guy’s name, neither his smug attitude.



Suffice to say, destiny had another plan for me, and again, that 2 day delay worked in my favor, as it was later to reveal itself.



Mouse discovered my online activity and sought to put an end to it by cutting off my internet. Again, the mind works in mysterious ways, and despite not knowing how to, I was able to re-instate my internet connection, due to the fact that his senior accountant was on vacation and I compared our settings, hence I was able to continue upon my quest of sending a resume to every company in the State of Kuwait that was hiring.



I learnt later that SMASH was also upset at Mouse for his inability to grant her a decent raise, despite her having served her 3 year initial period. To compensate, he agreed to have the company pay an amount to send her to one of those 2-day workshops that offer you a certificate in the end, right here in Kuwait. I was asked if I was interested, but I declined, as in the name of self improvement, I had already signed up with a training institute to partake in a course that would see me add a title to the end of my name, the course was due to start in January, however, it got delayed, and in the greater scheme of things, that delay was a godsend.



Later on, she found a better position in a different company and jumped ship. She was made to pay for the course she attended on this company’s dime, the one I previously had turned down, and January 2008 marked her departure from the company.



On a fine day in January, I received a pleasant call from the audit office I mentioned above, asking me to come in for an interview. They had a written exam I had to take, and that was a 3-hour ordeal they said, so I had to make up an excuse of car-trouble to ditch again. Mouse was not amused but conceded nonetheless.



At the time, I had what would be considered long-ish hair, to others. To me it was just hair, at cheek length, nowhere near as long as it used to be during my years of university. I showed up, in a my current attire for work, formal shirt and cotton pants, and proceeded to meet with 2 people at that office; Sun, the manager, and Moon, the senior of the department. I was given the exam, followed by a translation, Arabic to English and vice versa, which, thanks to my current 6-month stint in an Arabic accounting position, I was able to glide over with ease.



Sun, called me back a while later, and I went in for another interview. Despite having failed the entrance exam, he was extremely pleased with me; the translation of that Ministerial document sealed the deal.  Honestly, it came from a lifetime of reading John Grisham novels, as the majority of the passages I was working with where Ministry related, and hence had a dab of law to them. Again, I heard the mold and potential line, feeling all the while like a pile of clay or putty.

There was however a catch; the HR manager there, as well as Moon, the senior in the department, had requested that in order to offer me a contract I must first present myself to them in a suitable form –with shorter hair.



This is what I looked like when I applied:

 



And this is me during my rebelious uni days on the beach at Sharm, see? That is long hair! The one above was not!

They say Karma, the cosmic balance of good and evil, is a fickle friend, a very fickle friend indeed. One day she may choose to smile upon you, and in that day none can touch you. Howevr, none can protect you from her wrath and disdain once your time comes for retribution.



Not so long ago, I performed a feat of RobinHood-ian proportion, believing myself to be the fabled defender of the oppressed and down trodden. Coincidently, this event occured on the same day of my post regarding Pizza Hut's super supreme customer service (here). The story goes as follows:



We were hosting a relative over for dinner one evening, and inadvertently, he chose to park his car in an area that a corrupt, vile, wretched educational institution claims is their own, and go to great lengths to enforce this territorial monopoly upon the poor people in the surrounding buildings.



(For more on how the evening went, feel free to view the previous post, this one is concerned with the events AFTER the family gathering.)



Unbeknownst to my relative, as he bade us farewell and headed back toward his car, the evil, corrupt, vile, wretched institutions nasty henchmen saw to it that the area they believe is theirs by rent-right was cordoned off with a sizeable metallic chain and padlock.



Fortunately that night, I had chosen to accompany my relative on his walk back toward his car, for the first time since he started visiting, as I had understood he was parked far away and thought to myself, well he would enjoy the company instead of walking alone.



Upon assessing the situation, the responsibility of freeing my friend and relative from the clutches of these Machiavellian thugs, rested upon my broad shoulders.



As I meticulously schemed, a single, lone lightbulb came to life above my head.



3 years or so ago I had purchased a mighty sledgehammer, to be used as an exercise tool in homage to Rocky Balboa, in a vacant, empty yard behind my building that housed several large tyres. That formidable weapon proved to be the voice of the people, as I exercised it in ways befitting its original purpose as opposed to my intended purpose; it broke down the walls of tyranny.



I ran back home, my face alight with a huge smile in anticipation of the wanton destruction I was about to wreak upon this evil, vile, corrupt, villainous institution.



I retrieved my hammer, thoughtfully named Mjolnir, and proceeded to smash away at the chains of oppression that these thugs had placed up to trap the hapless, hopeless persons of the area in a criminal way for their own nefarious purpose. My relative, smiling ecstatically, thanked me and drove off into the night, free at last.



For good measure, I decided to take the long chain as booty, and to serve them a reminder that wherever there was injustice, the hammer of justice was sure to prevail.



That day I went to sleep feeling quite the hero.



Last night however, I came across a stark, grim realisation.



In an act of equal destructive proportion, some bandit had come into my building, located my bicycle which I used to go on adventures with the DBCK, proceeded to hack away at the chain I used to keep it safe on the stairwell, and the wretched thief made away with my bicycle in tow, as well as the small chain I used to keep it locked.



An Eye for an Eye, Iron for Iron, a Chain for a Chain.



Karma, Collects.

Picking up where we left off, as Dear Anonymous wants to know, why was my first manager referred to as Tyrant in this story?



Read on, and once again, thank you for your time in reading this, all comments/ criticisms welcome :)



~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~



Ever since my return, Tyrant had pulled a 180 with me. The first 3 months I spent in his department he was firm, but fair, friendly even. This new side I was suddenly being shown was downright ugly. The side that everyone had warned me about the day I joined. I was being subjected to the same abuse his other accountants had grown accustomed and conceded to. There are a few incidents that are notable, and shall be discussed as the story continues.





During my absence, a new accountant was drafted to the team, as the senior accountant at the time was planning on leaving. Him being a fellow countryman, H-Mad shall be his name, we meshed instantly and became great friends – to this day.



His story was that he worked for a company, and left it to come to this one after a disagreement on his raise. We would spend the evenings together, hard at work as Tyrant toiled in his office behind us over the phone. I recall one incident where, after working for a straight 10 hours without a lunch break, I was sharing a kit-kat bar with H-Mad, so I passed it along over the top of our stalls, right under the nose of Tyrant, who could see it from his office. Apparently, the hungry hippo was craving a break and a kit-kat also, as the very next day, he sneered during his typical daily rant towards us by saying something along the lines of “and you stay overtime to just eat candy” infront of some other people in the office. He fancied himself a ladies man, although he was grotesquely rotund, he had a disgusting habit of sitting in his chair, pushing it back, and patting his immense girth like some savage caveman after a delicious meal.



One time in the office I was amused to hear the sound of what I believed to be a real purring cat, I thought it strange but declined to make any comment. Tyrant however would not be tethered, comes out of his office like a blundering ogre and proclaims who has a cat in here? In an amused, comedic voice. As soon as people started laughing, he realised something was wrong, and it was revealed that there was no actual cat in the office, only H-Mad's ringtone. To say Tyrant blew a gasket would be putting it mildly, he was furious at being made a laughing stock of he immediately ordered H-Mad to change his ring tone. Since we are on the subject of ringtones, Tyrant had a habit of yacking away on his phone for extended periods of time, being in accounts I saw that his monthly mobile bill was running close to the 300KD mark. Imagine, a 40-something year old man, who'se ringtone was the "Buttons" song by the PussyCat Dolls. It was like a bell around the neck of an enormous kitten, for everytime that music blared in the office, I knew he was close.



At that time, there was trainee from a subsidiary of the company, she had had a falling out with her supervisor and hence was to our department until things calmed down. She was Kuwaiti. It came onto me to train her, and I did. I even went the extra mile and made her quizzes, a to-do list, a job description, the whole enchilada. This seemed to fall on deaf ears with Tyrant, he did not care.



My patience was wearing thin; day after day the demeaning attitude would continue to reveal itself, all the while I was unaware as to the reason behind this sudden animosity.



One time I called him on it; in response to his constant berating comments to everyone (including myself) I walked into his office and told him, to his face, you catch more flies with honey than vinegar. He proceeded to rant on about how when he was young they used to catch flies by rubbing vinegar on the inside of barrels. At that moment I was looking at him and wondering, what exactly is this swaggering oaf talking about, I was being hypothetical and here he is lecturing me on fly hunting.



H-Mad informed me one day that Tyrant had spoken to him and was planning to let me go. During that time, we had already interviewed a fresh new recruit who was to join the department, a girl, so my services would no longer be required.



This new girl, a friend of mine as well to this day as well, had been offered a salary higher than mine (the same salary I would use as a benchmark in future interviews), despite us both being fresh graduates. The only difference was, her residence was transferred, whereas mine was made from scratch.



Armed with the news that my job was in jeopardy, I spiraled into a chasm of depression. I lost weight, felt lethargic all day, lost sleep and felt utter despair when waking up in the morning to prepare for work. When at home, I would scour the papers and the online world for hints of job openings and would quickly send out my resume to any and all.



I had one bite during that period, an up-and-coming marketing agency in Kuwait City, the very heart of business in Kuwait. As it had been on my list to one time take a bus to a place I had never been to (and up to that point, I had never been to Kuwait city alone) and just walk about and get lost and find myself, I decided to embark upon that adventure and head on over there. The manager I met with was a middle aged woman, well dressed, veiled, who smoked like a chimney with the tell-tale voice of a caffeine/nicotine abuser. She had asked me to jump ship for the same salary, and another ambiguous position as she wanted to “feel out” where my talents lay. I had always wanted a job in marketing, but getting one for the same salary I was receiving seemed illogical, especially at the beginning of my career. So I gracefully turned down her offer.



One day, I had arrived early to the office, the exact time is forever etched in my memory, it was 7:50am; work officially starts at 8am. Tyrant was not there, so I thought to amuse myself a bit and was playing a mean game of Mine Sweep. The thing about my cubicle was he had clear access to stand beside me, out of my line of vision, and see me. So, for the first time in a lifetime, he came to work early, and saw me. As he started to bellow out that I was wasting office time, I told him I was not on the clock yet, as it was 7:50am. Later that day, the IT guy came to my desk to disable the games, it was unimportant however as I saw how he did it and was quick to reverse it.



This dance of one-upmanship continued for quite some time. During that period, and after lasting a whopping one or so months, H-Mad decided it was time to split, he had also had enough of Tyrant, and left the department over a disagreement regarding his leave request, which would serve as his honey moon as he was getting married, an issue he had previously discussed with Tyrant prior to joining. Tyrant reneged on his word, so my friend put forth his resignation papers. It was later revealed to me that the life expectancy (work wise) for most Arab nationals with Tyrant was around 6 months.



Once I had made a mistake on an entry a while ago that both he and his senior accountant had failed to detect before he posted it. Standard procedure dictate that the posted entry into the accounts system would need to be un-posted by IT. Previously, he would simply raise the telephone and make a call to the IT manager requesting the un-post. This time however, he asked me to photocopy the entry I had made, emblazoned it with a huge “Ayman says he made a mistake. Signed Tyrant” and asked me to hand-deliver it to the IT manager.





To those who may think that believe that since I was erring a lot, he was in his right position to criticize or admonish me, I say there are limits to criticism. I may not have been a grade-A student, I was however, smarter than the average person, as Yogi Bear said. I updated several processes that took tedious amounts of time, created several excel sheets that to this day are being used in Tyrants department, and even drafted an operating manual for the job description of accountant in his department. So yes, I had put in the effort, but it was met with scrutiny.



I was claiming my overtime for hours spent in the office one month, hours verified with a record due to the finger scanner, I was taken aback when Tyrant decided to slash my overtime and say, tough.



At the time that H-Mad had informed me that my job was near termination, he had helpfully passed my CV to a friend of his in a more well-known, more diversified local company in Al-Ardiya area. I had gone there for an interview and a test, and that is where I learnt to come up with my ultimate skiving excuse of claiming I had a flat tire on the way to work, and merely rubbing my hands over any car tire to add plausibility to my tall tale. If it fooled Tyrant, it can fool anyone.



The interview had gone well; however, the new job was stuck in limbo due to some inter-departmental conflict within that company regarding the hiring of certain nationalities over others.



July was fast approaching, and I had another event to attend – my elder brothers wedding.



Kuwaiti law stipulates that an employee is allowed to take an upaid vacation after completing 6-months of work. Technically, I had, so it was my entitlement.



Now it is noteworthy to mention that at the time, the “enslavement” policy of most local companies was still in effect; whereby the Human Resource department would hold on to your passport, until such time that you would request a leave, and then it would be handed to you, given the necessary paperwork. Up till that point in time, my passport was nestled safely in my possession. Once I had a sit-down with tyrant and informed him that I wanted to request a 2-week vacation to attend the wedding, I was met with a “where is your passport”, and “No, you cannot go”. He then proceeded to tell me how he had missed his nieces wedding for work, and how work was important, work came first.



I told him, point blank, I was going to attend the wedding. He ordered me to get my passport to him, and not only that, he forbade me from returning to work until such time as I would produce my passport.



I conceded, much to my chagrin.

As humans, we are prone to underestimating ourselves, limiting our capabilities, accepting less commendations despite earning them.



How often does the employee who toils in a company from 9~5 believe their work to be capable of being done by any random stranger, given proper training and time? Only to find upon leaving said job that the learning curve dropped drastically, and those once routine works performed by them appear tumultuous tasks to the new employee.



At times, people are content with lower levels of success as it means less work and responsibility on their shoulders, they see it that if one were to unleash their true potential, rise up higher on the corporate ladder, amass greater responsibility, work longer hours and generally be more miserable. This is a common misconception which is an internal roadblock to success and self-enrichment.



In underestimating ourselves, we leave little room for criticism. Just as a compliment can serve to send a person up to cloud no. 9, a criticism can shatter a spirit and will beyond repair.



Whereas if one were to delimit their potential, to accept that they are capable of great feats, of great understanding; sure-fire satisfaction will definitely follow.