After the heated discussion, I asked my boss to leave and the door was shut. Alone in my office I rested my head in my hands and started sobbing. I couldn’t take the air inside the room but also couldn’t leave with those overwhelming emotions that wet my eyes. No, it wasn’t the deadlines or the never ending pressure of the work that made my shoulders heavy. They heaviness was felt in the chest and my stomach curled out of emptiness. It was the feeling that gets me once in a while; of not being good enough, of not being a professional. Work matters to me. But I was feeling stuck in this room, “office”, trying to fight back every drop of tear down my cheeks. I have done loads of work in the very room, feeling proud, dizzy, content and tired. But what I felt at the moment topped everything in the line. The more I tried stopping it, the more it absorbed me. After the most “unprofessional” moment of the day was over, it kept me thinking about how humans are not wired to be “professional” or maybe it’s just me. I have found myself and others missing deadlines, getting late, and excusing themselves. I have seen people making incessant posts in social networking sites during working hours which they are not supposed to but expected to. I have yelled and been yelled at. My “seniors” who lecture about plagiarism have taken all the credit of my hard work in a most professional way ever. There are several instances, where I have given up and engaged in office politics just to kill time in order to get back. Hell, I am writing this while I am in the office sidelining the delegated task just because I don’t feel like it. This too seems like finding a way to complain about one bad day I had in the office but really who has a great day at work always? I have turned up at my work looking my worst, sleep deprived or hung over or both just because I was binge watching and drinking. Obviously this was only in some instances; otherwise I would be typing this as another unemployed citizen in the country. All of this won’t allow me to tag myself as a “best employee” but not the “worst” one as well. With all my biases intact, I call myself a normal employee who just needs to be human at times. Back to that day, when my tears won the fight I couldn’t help but think how being a 23 years old has ruined me. Now, I am not very fond of kids.