The week begins with the clichéd Monday blues as you hustle to get up early, suit up, and head to the office. Busy roads, blaring horns, and a barrage of reminders for Webex and MS Teams meetings set the tone. Leadership and team roles amplify the chaos, with the irritating meeting tones becoming an inescapable part of life. By 9am, the phone rings incessantly, as though the caller’s world depends on it.
These were my mornings for 22 years — save for the Webex meetings, a gift from the Covid era. I began my career in 2003 as a teller in a private sector bank and bid farewell to my banking journey as a cluster head on January 10, 2025.
More than two decades of non-stop targets, solving client and staff issues, business reviews, compliance checks, senior management visits, and managing close to 80 phone calls daily. And now, here I sit: Silent mornings, no phone calls, no meetings, no reviews — just complete stillness. The sudden quiet hits hard, leaving me questioning my relevance and place in the grand scheme of things.
Not retired yet, I’m taking a break and planning for the next chapter of my life over three months. Yet, these last few days at home have jolted me into a deeper understanding of what happens when people in powerful positions retire. The constant grind convinces us of our irreplaceability. But here’s the truth: We are not important because of our designations or titles but because of what we attain as humans — our experiences, learnings, and bonds with colleagues.
For the organisation, we are merely a number, and the show will go on without us. So why not ensure our show goes on as well? Reflecting on the calls I ignored, the weddings and family functions I skipped for so-called important meetings, I now realise how meaningless it all feels. Sitting silently in the living room, I recognise the memories I missed creating. No longer the centre of attention, I’ve come to understand my place as a mere dot in the vast universe. We are not chickens holding up the sky.
{{/usCountry}}For the organisation, we are merely a number, and the show will go on without us. So why not ensure our show goes on as well? Reflecting on the calls I ignored, the weddings and family functions I skipped for so-called important meetings, I now realise how meaningless it all feels. Sitting silently in the living room, I recognise the memories I missed creating. No longer the centre of attention, I’ve come to understand my place as a mere dot in the vast universe. We are not chickens holding up the sky.
{{/usCountry}}As I embark on the next phase of life, focusing on health —something I’ve royally ignored — I find myself more grounded and appreciative of those who stood by me. My family, who silently supported me through the years, now brings me joy in small, everyday moments: Tea with my wife and parents and games with my children. These moments hold far more meaning than the corporate race ever did.
At some point in our work lives, we must pause to reflect, introspect, and reconnect with our inner selves. Practise gratitude. Enjoy life. Pick up that phone when a loved one calls, attend that wedding, savour the rain, take the bike ride, play the game, or have that drink with a friend.
The rat race will continue, but so can the moments that make life beautiful. gpbagga@gmail.com
The writer is a Chandigarh-based freelance contributor