Confessions of a Workoholic

By Priyanka Varma

"Addictions arise from feelings of inability to cope with a new environment or situation in one’s life. The repetitive feature of rewarding yourself with that substance or being in a certain environment directly effects the rewards, reinforcement and memory systems of your brain. Thus, you feel happy.

For Mishka, it was a case of acceptance. Having grown up in a very protected environment, with h

• Language: English
• Publisher: One Point Six Technologies Pvt Ltd
• Release date: Feb 12, 2020
• ISBN: 9789389759778

Priyanka Varma

Priyanka Varma is a graduate of University Of Western Ontario, Toronto, Canada. She has lived in India, Middle East and Canada in her lifetime. She has done her schooling from Sacred Heart- Jamshedpur, Indian School Muscat - Oman and Milliken Mills High School - Canada.In addition to her ferver for writing, she is a trained finance professional. She has worked for leading organizations such as Astral Media and Union Bank Of Switzerland in Toronto asan analyst.Her first novel, The Rite To Love, was pubished in November of 2015. It was based on her observations on a live-in relationship with a backdrop of morsels of being married. Contrasting the two with the barometer of being accepted. She has also blogged for TOI (Times of India), published her book of poems, Genesis, in 2015 and is also in process of publishing her second book of poems, Enshrined, in memory of her late father, Manu Varma. During her high school years, she has volunteered for Women's College Hospital (Toronto) to raise awareness on post-partem care for women, Red Cross Canada and worked for a campaign called 'Rest Up- Save Your Neck' carried out by Insurance Bureau of Canada to raise awareness on injuries caused due to improper head-rest positioning in vehicles. She has also mentored troubled children for a program called 'Stand By Me' in London, Ontario (Canada) in university.Her hobbies include reading (voraciously, she devours any narrative with a consequence), swimming (lives for that first dive in the pool after long, morose winters), writing ( thinks itsthe best way to express your most impertinent understanding of the world) and cooking (validates the fascinating correlation between recipes and the ways in which they seduce all thefive senses).Currently, and infinitely ever, relishing in the realm of motherhood. She is a mom to her 7 year-old, daughter named Aanya. In the future, she would like to publish more books. Professionaly,she is working as an accounts payable specialist with an MNC.

Book preview

Chapter 1

Can you picture those 80s-reggae videos? With tall, bulky, carribean men playing the loudest and biggest drums and gurls with flashy outfits, feathers et al, and big batty’s dancing to the sweet strumming of guitars coupled with one drop (strong backbeat) songs, made famous by artists such as Bob Marley and The Police. That’s what the summery and shimmery downtown-streets of London looked like, to the nth degree. The London Carnival was on, and how.

Mishka, and her best pal, Jessy were brisk-walking in their tallheels because they had to rush back, for a post-lunch meeting with the Accounts department. Humming along to the song in the background, which was, Ole Ole, Ole, Ole. Their mocktails, almost spilling out of the cups, and their bellies bulging-out from the rosti and shrimp jambalayas they ate as snacks along with drinks at this swanky, restrobar, soaking in the slap weh vibes of the carnival.

Somehow they managed to make it to their office on-time, a corner building with Grey-tinted windows and transparent lifts. They quickly ran to their cabins, put down their mocktails, grabbed their notebooks and headed towards the boardroom.

Mishka worked for a leading, media company in London by the name of Astral TV. She worked there as an accountant/analyst. She had gotten the job cuz of Jesse, her aunt worked in the promotions department. Jesse and Mishka were friends from high school. Jesse worked in costing at the accounts department as well. She also participated and danced at the carnival, but this year there was too much work to take care of.

This was a busy time as preparations for fall programming were underway, so that meant, new forecasts, and new vendors being added and so resulting in new payments, all to be finalized by the 30th of the month. In walked Vash, their boss and also the Director of Finance Department, third in hierarchy, just after the CEO and the Vice-President of Finance. Guyanese, stickler for timelines, hell-bent on optimizing costs and extremely forthright about the shortcomings of your reports. Yeah, that kind of boss, was her first boss.

Ok. Let’s start from the left, Mishka, what do you have for me in the payments analysis.

Mishka pulled-out the standard template with numbers generated from pre-designed formulas, all her creation, that Vash always seemed to tear apart.

So. Legal payments first and foremost – we have cleared with Ross-Stienfeld, Trentt LLP, Darcy...well, here we go, the same problem,. He said with discerning eyes.

Sorry, what problem? She felt confidently.

There is a mix-up between the invoice terms and your calculation/month, and corresponding comments. He said.

There is? She said, inquisitively.

We just received a revised invoice with new terms, yesterday. Have a look at that. He said.

I wasn’t informed by the legal department. There isn’t any new invoice in my bin. She said, affirmly.

You are in Darcy’s mail-updates, check your mail and get back to me. He said.

uh, sorry Vash, just was busy with closing yesterday and then tons of emails happen to pop-in the final days, only. She said, coyly.

Don’t give me that excuse. I get a ton more mail than you. I know which ones are to be looked at on an urgent/priority basis. What have you been doing for the past 40 weeks in this company? Vash was upset. Then he began to scan through the rest of the categories of payments, and, then stopped at the one she dreaded the most – suppliers, the core of forecasting and costing. If Mishka fudged this up, then Jesse’s work would be meaningless too.

Turned out, she sure did. One of the suppliers’ – Movies4U’s cost/view was inaccurate and then that lead to misinformation to the supplier for bids for next month.

Ms Verma, I don’t know whether you understand, or I can’t explain, or the work we do doesn’t interest you. He said, looking directly into her eyes, with a sharp gaze.

Vash, uh, the cost/view is taken directly from the monthly reports we receive, that’s attached to the invoice which has the aggregate costs. She said. I make sure, that’s taken-down accurately.

‘It’s incorrect. I’m telling you. Please find the reason why it is. One hint - It’s off by 2,500." That was the keenness, assurity and knowledge level that she appreciated in him and wished to be in that position one day, where everything just trickled down like basic formulas you learned back in grade 3.

I’ll look into it, thanks Vash. He was done with her.

And please, change this frothy spreadsheet of yours, it’s got more colors than a candy-store. Make it as direct as possible. The flow is good, the linking is ok, just the information that you’re plugging in needs to be accurate, checked, rechecked and then some.

I want you to meet me with the revised version, with the corrections at 5.50 pm, this evening. I’m sending you an invite on mail, please respond confirming it. He said, concluding.

Last train left at 6.00, the one that wasn’t too packed, which meant she wasn’t getting home before 7.30.

Is that a yes…or a yes? He said, commandingly.

It’s a yes. I’ll get on it asap. Can I be excused? She asked.

He just waved his hand at her, pointing to the door.

‘thanks Vash."

As she walked out the boardroom, she felt herself collapse. Nothing out of the blue, but she liked being challenged like this. She got a certain kind of kick from finding the unknown, correcting her errors and re-creating better versions of her work. It was more joyful than a simple A grade on an exam in school, and felt less strenuous than writing a 10,000 word thesis in University, because she was made for numbers. She got the aptitude from her mom.

She called home to inform her mother, and it went to voicemail.

Hey Ari, I’m gonna be home late. Got some deadlines to work on. She called her mother by her name, was like her twin.

She sat back on her desk and began the corrections, time stood still. Mind went on overdrive, and her spirit was flying high with this unusual kind of high.

So began her tryst with work…

Chapter 2

Mikko, wake up rumkins, time for breakfast. Her mom called out from downstairs. It was Sunday, time for a big spread, made by her mom, she loved to cook. Even though the house was big and spacious, one squeal from the bottom of the stairs and the voice spiraled up the staircase like a fast volcano.

She had gotten home at around 10.30, last night. Being a Saturday, the team took a break in the evening for tea and snacks as they were celebrating someone’s baby shower, and then got back to work by 5.30 pm. They got dispersed at 9.00 pm.

As she rolled-over to her side, her phone was flashing a message from Sasha, she looked after Channel-buys.

Mishka decided to call her back.

Hey Mishka, sorry to bother you on a Sunday. I know the accounting team had a late-night yesterday. She seemed apologetic.

It’s ok. It’s become like coffee, if I don’t have a message from someone or the other at work then I feel weird. I know you’re gonna put me to work. What can I do for you? She said.

I need the performance reports of past three months, with the number of views, for the 5 TV shows that air on NEXUS network. She said, and then paused to see if Mishka got it at one go.

Okay. Go on. She said.

Okay, so just for that channel. Their viewership has gone down and we need to reconsider their bids. She said.

I have the one main report for all channels that we source from. Can I just send you that, or you only want NEXUS? She asked.

I know it’s a bit of work. But please can you do the separation without causing too much of a muck-up and then once we look at the numbers - We will have you do the analysis, with the baselines of forecasted numbers. She said.

Umm, ok. She gasped.

So the tougher work is ahead, but this is what we need right now. She said.

Alrighty, I’ll have it for you in an hour’s time. She hung up before she heard any more requests.

The report was made, no muck-ups done on the interconnected worksheets and it was good to go. The hour had gone by quickly, and as she attached it to mail and wrote a short message, her mom’s nth call was soon followed by smells of baked cinnamon and lemony-buttery croissants.

The gourmet kitchen had cost her dad some big-change and her mom cherished it as much as her kids. If she could, she would live in there, but then she often waited for her dad in this little nook in the kitchen with a book and was woken-up by him.

It wasn’t only this kitchen, but her dad had helped build her entire life up from when she was in shambles after a painful divorce. Mishka was three and could barely understand the situation. Step by step, in a matter of four years, her mother turned into a confident person.

By profession she was a project manager and took on projects in breaks and mainly performed her momly duties. They went onto have one more boy to complete the family. But for Mishka, her dad had set the standards for a hard-working professional and creating a balance with great many vacations.

She ran down the stairs, before her hungry-as-hell brother finished up all the breakfast. She propped herself on the stool as her mom, handed her a plate full French goodies. A French, Omlette with some five-spice greens and lemon-butter croissants. Strawberry and Cinnamon tarts were searing in the oven.

So buster, is this practicing Sunday or a game Sunday? She asked her little brother, Millan, it was soccer Sunday.

Take a guess. He said, pointing to their mother.

She was dressed in a short sports-dress with thigh-high boots and big danglers. So this was game day, and it would be broadcasted on television. Her mom, typical soccer mom, worked-out like crazy to keep up with standards of other soccer moms.

He was in grade 9, and didn’t need his momma there, but she loved the publicity she got every time her little kicker scored a goal. She knew she only had this for a few years until he got into med school and left soccer forever.

"Mom, Sporty Spice