Have you ever thought about the words bustle and hustle? They rhyme. Doesn't seem like a coincidence. People bustle and hustle in the morning.

To get to the zoo.

All the world's a stage Shakespeare said. I'd like to paraphrase. All the world's a zoo.

Let me go back to hustling and bustling. The rush to get to work, the zoo I mentioned earlier, is universal.

And where I worked was no different. Workers trickled in, one by one. All pushing the nine o' clock cut off.

Why is everyone always late if there is so much hustling? I thought the whole point of it was to be faster?

But I digress.

"Oh my God! You are late again? No wonder the boss wanted to meet you first thing. He is waiting. Please go in," said the helpful receptionist.

I wanted to ask her the following questions:
1) Why do you feel the need to involve God in such mundane things? Do you think he will take to this kindly?
2) I do realise that I am late. Do you think I can't tell time? Also if you are so concerned, how would you like to buy me a watch? My birthday comes up in six months but I do accept early gifts.
3) Do you really have to gloat about my being late all the time? Do you not hear the phone ringing on your desk? Or do you not realise the reason you are sitting there is to answer it?
4) What did you think I came here to do if not go in? Do you think I have short - term memory?

But since I really was very late, I could not ask her these things and just had to enter. As she predicted, the boss really was waiting for me. Something I anticipated.

Heart hammering, I opened the door. "May I enter?" I asked.

He waved me towards my seat. Too angry to talk. That wasn't a good sign.

"Good morning, sir."

No smile. I decided to wait for him to bring up my tardiness. He never did.

Looking right into my eyes, he said, "I have something very important to discuss with you. But first things first. Let me congratulate you on your promotion." He unexpectedly smiled.

I was glad to see that he was in the mood to joke.

Promotion. Me. Yeah, that's not happening.

He continued, "I am resigning my job. Tomorrow will be my last day. I am having a heart surgery. Years of hustle will do that to you. Anyways, my doctor has advised that I take things at a slower pace, so I am resigning. The senior management has decided to promote you instead of hiring someone new. So good luck." 

He then proceeded to go over the list of my new duties.

I was stunned.

This was an animal farm. There was no telling which chicken would get the axe.

*

I rode the high for the next few weeks. Until I found out the real reason for my good luck.

The company declared bankruptcy and was going to close all operations soon.

My boss was a rat deserting a sinking ship.

And now, it was this chicken's turn to go the butcher. I packed up my belongings on the last day and as I walked with my head down, these words were stuck in my head "Old McDonald had a farm..."