One could cut through the tension in the office with a pair of scissors. Martin and his colleagues adjusted their postures like a classroom on hearing the teacher on duty’s heels clink and clank on the corridor. They could smell Phillip’s cologne from miles away, but they didn’t even need that to announce him because he was already yelling at someone.
“Have you cleared all your tickets?” Martin’s colleague asked him.
“No. I need Sarah to finish her part for me to do mine,” whispered Martin as he popped yet another painkiller. His head hurt again. It was a constant occurrence for the two years that he had worked under Phillip. It was the cost he had to pay to remain employed and support his extended family, he reminded himself.
Phillip had hardly sat at his desk for ten minutes when he yelled out Martin’s name. Like a lamb headed to a slaughterhouse, Martin carried his laptop to Phillip’s office.
“Why do you have the highest number of open tickets? Always slowing everyone down. Are you a fool or just incompetent?” Phillip berated him.
Phillip might as well have let Martin stay at his desk because the whole office still heard what he’d said. Martin wanted to tell him that Sarah was the weight pulling them down, but it was rumoured that Phillip was playing hide-the-sausage with her. Martin’s role was more intersectional, which made his open work tickets more notable.
The rest of the office knew this, but nobody was going to stand up for him against ‘the’ Phillip. He was the guy who had mastered corporate politics. He was in the ears of the right people. Phillip could easily influence a promotion or demotion regardless of merit. The pay was good for most people, so putting their heads down and getting paid sounded like the easier option until a better opportunity came along.
Sarah eventually did her job, which allowed Martin to do his part. It was hours later before he was done. He wanted to grab a bite when he fell and lost consciousness. When he came to it, he was surrounded by some colleagues.
“What’s happening?” Martin asked.
“You fainted,” said his workmate.
“Are you sick?” Asked another.
“Not that I’m aware of. It’s probably because I haven’t eaten all day,” Martin brushed it off.
Someone was sent to grab him something to eat as he drank some water. He looked exhausted. Fortunately, he had finished the day’s work, so after eating, he went home and slept. It was the first night he had slept for more than five hours.
He woke feeling refreshed, except for a weird stomachache, which he attributed to hunger. He decided to have food for breakfast, and he felt some relief. The week was busier than usual because they were working on a presentation since their overseas bosses would be in town before the start of another major project.
Phillip’s voice was like a gong constantly going off as the pressure in the office increased. On one particular day, an intern had quit on the spot, and another employee had run into the washrooms to cry after receiving a mouthful from Phillip. The crying lady had been asked whether she wanted to report Phillip to HR, but she sobbed even harder as she rejected the suggestion.
Dearest Martin’s head was always on the chopping block with Phillip. It was as if his presence just irritated him, despite Martin being good at his job. He wasn’t exceptional, but he wasn’t as incompetent as Phillip made him out to be.
The presentation was on Friday afternoon. Martin had a role in it. He knew something was wrong with him because he felt like more than one organ hurt. He took more painkillers than he ordinarily took just to get him through the presentation.
“I’ll go to hospital tomorrow if I don’t feel better after resting tonight,” he said to himself.
His presentation went great, and he was just about to answer the second question when he felt a sudden sharp pain in his abdomen. He clutched his belly tightly as he vomited what looked like coffee beans. He didn’t have time to worry about the contents of his puke as he fainted.
Martin woke up to the smell of the hospital and an IV drip in his arm.
“This must be serious,” he thought.
A medical professional came to him and explained to him that he would need surgery because he had a bleeding ulcer. The word surgery was hard-hitting. The doctor could see the panic on his face. She explained to him what was going on, how they would handle the procedure and what to expect.
“What caused this? I’ve just had recurring headaches and stomach aches recently before today, ” Martin asked.
“It could be caused by various things but don’t worry about that for now. Let’s first focus on getting you better,” said the doctor.
Martin worried about informing his family because he knew they would be overly worried, but he also imagined how bad it would be if things went south in the theatre and they discovered he hadn’t informed them. He called his father, who was emotionally stronger and would know how to tell his mother.
As early as they could, his family visited him before he went in for surgery. A few colleagues who looked so worried also showed up. He didn’t have answers to their questions, but when he mentioned he had a bleeding ulcer, they were quick to Google all they could about the situation.
The procedure went well, but he was taken to HDU afterwards for overnight monitoring. His recovery looked promising, and he was even moved to a regular ward when he vomited again. He was bleeding again and needed another procedure.
“Please don’t take me yet. Please, not yet,” Martin pleaded with his maker as they wheeled him back to the theatre. Fear gripped him, and the likelihood of death felt so real and near.
The ceiling had a weird pattern, and he immediately thought, “This can’t be the eternal home that’s been prepared for us.” A nurse was standing next to him, changing some vials. She smiled at him. He took that as a good sign.
“When can I eat something?” Martin asked the doctor when she came to see him.
“In a few days. For now we’ll feed you non solid food,” she said.
She went on to explain to him what had happened to him as he told her about the painkillers he took, the headaches and the stress.
“I know the job market is hard but your work is literally killing you. You will need to take a break for at least three weeks and even after that you need to take care of yourself. As you do that please rethink your situation and make the needed changes,” she told Martin.
Martin nodded.
“Before I forget, stay away from the painkillers you were taking. They might stop the headaches but they hurt your stomach lining and other organs, especially because how frequently you were taking them. This is a concern among many people in high pressure workplaces,” said the doctor.
Martin loved his job and couldn’t imagine doing anything else, but he also knew working with Phillip was the source of his problems. He didn’t even visit him or check on him while at the hospital. His colleague would later tell him how furious he was at him for ruining the presentation.
His recovery went smoothly after that, and he spent the break sending job applications to several companies, hoping to get a chance to do the same job at a better company. He hoped to get positive results soon; otherwise, he would have to make a tough decision between the bird in hand and his wellbeing.
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