My corporate life

I'm not the kind of person who has ever had a very strict conviction about the real importance of work in our lives. As a matter of fact, I’m not one of those molded guys who just left the college saying exactly what managers want to hear to make their lives less difficult.

To me, all that BS is just a stupid, boring recipe for skyrocketing your career saying the same old things about leadership, role modeling, dropping buzzwords every couple of minutes

In philosophy, you might call it the work ethic. That's just a value, only the offspring of an ideology sold by corporations and power groups to make their shares more profitable.

Know what? Life is my son playing tennis and winning a tournament last week. Seeing him shooting smashes, winners, pulling every resource out of the toolbox against his opponent like a sniper, I felt like someone who is truly worth something in this world. Life is also hearing my daughter say she misses me and that home is terrible when I'm not there. This lifts me up, makes me feel like a giant.

Life is when my oldest daughter pulled me into a long conversation to tell me about her fight against the bullying from stupid people, due to her profound hearing loss, her deafness.

Life is indeed, a Saturday morning when I'm still flat in bed and wake up to my wife carrying a tray crowded with good things for my breakfast. And she even says she loves me.

Life is my father fighting cancer for the past 5 years, without losing his light. He insists on still burning, even though his fire is low.

Life is my mother supporting him at all times, no matter what, no matter when.

Life is not fair, we all know. But, to quote Clint Eastwood in Unforgiven "deserve’s got nothin’ to do with it".

To live is more than drowning yourself in a plot where you are supposed to play a role, following a pre-defined script written by someone else you've never heard of.

Erasmus said in The Praise of Folly that all of us are actors, wearing masks till someone takes us off the stage. Maybe. Most likely. Most of the times.

But I prefer to think of myself just as a father, a son, a fool who keeps coming back to work to play a role, just for some hours. But the real truth is outside, waiting for me on a tennis court, at home, in a Russell book like In Praise of Idleness, or at a bar table chatting with friends, the only real people who really interest me.