It was a Sunday morning — but not just any Sunday. Susan and I woke up unusually early and started bouncing on the bed. She was already in her green bathing suit. (My eye twitched. I considered pretending to be blind. But I let it slide. I was excited too.)
For weeks now, our neighbors had been planning a neighborhood outing. Post-dinner meetings, heated debates about who brings the rice cooker, and of course, the classic standoff over who would drive. Everyone wanted to be on the trip, not responsible for it.
So they voted. And the unlucky winner? Boyo. Yes — that Boyo. The guy who once blasted “Bed of Roses” on repeat until even the cats started howling.
Susan and I were packing. She handed me my goggles, and for a moment — I felt something. (Not quite a heart flutter. Let’s call it… elevated awareness.)
The thought of the beach — the breeze, the barbecue, the possibility of new hoomans who weren’t from The Signal Co. — it thrilled me. I even wagged.
The van ride was chaos and joy. Singing, laughing, someone choking on chips. Susan was screeching “Apt! Apt! Apt!” from that Bruno Mars/Rose collab like she was auditioning for the role of “Off-Key Hype Woman.” No one minded. We were all just… in it. Present.
When we arrived, we stepped out and took it all in. The salty air. The breeze. The mountains folding into the sea. It was perfect.
Neighbors got to work — grill stations, beach mats, someone trying to build a tent they clearly never read the manual for. Susan peeled off her cover-up, scooped me up like the emotional support king I am, and together we sat by the waves.
We played fetch. We ate like we hadn’t seen food in years. We talked. We laughed. And for once, she didn’t complain about work, or traffic, or slow Wi-Fi. She just smiled.
As the sun dipped low, we sat quietly on the sand, wrapped in the afterglow of joy and grilled meat.
And then — she said it.
“God must have a beautiful imagination. Look at this view. It’s perfect. What a Creator.”
I was stunned. Usually, she reserves her poetic moments for when she’s holding a donut in one hand and ranting in the other.
But this? This was awe.
✍️ Writer’s Note:
I stumbled upon this line today: “Worshipping God means acknowledging and celebrating His power and perfection in gratitude.”
And maybe… that’s exactly what this moment was.
No music. No altar. Just Susan and Oishi, sitting by the sea — surrounded by mountains, waves, and the quiet company of God’s imagination.
“What a Creator.” “Look at all this.”
Sometimes worship is loud. Sometimes it’s a soft whisper wrapped in awe.
Narrator: Oishi (Reluctant. Tired. Overqualified for this nonsense.)
Oishi (narrating): I don’t want to do this, but apparently, I’m the designated narrator of this madness—so here we are.
I’m surrounded. Literally. To my left: Sahsmi, an orange Chihuahua with eyes big enough to reflect existential dread. On the rug: Bibimbap, our baby green elephant with the emotional intelligence of a therapist. Next to him, reclining like a celebrity scandal: Tteokbokki, the baby monkey—mid-burger, always. Staring from the aquarium with judgey bubbles: Maeutang, the fish. And stretching out in full drama-pony glory: Bulgogi, the baby blue horse who thinks he’s majestic. He is. He’s also clumsy but he’s not on the picture yet.
Anyway. The past few days, Sus—my melodramatic, overcaffeinated hooman—has been coming home from work absolutely buzzing with chaos. She bursts through the door, scoops me up like I’m a purse dog, pins me under her arm, and says:
“Oishi, my badoodle—I have a juicy scoop for you!”
Then she monologues. For hours. Through dinner. Through dessert. Through my will to live.
But I love Sus. So even if her voice pierces my eardrums like a kazoo powered by drama, I listen. Because love is patient. And she has the snacks.
That said—my emotional support battery is draining faster than her phone at 3%. So each morning, when she leaves for work, I call my friends here and unload the tales before I emotionally combust. This, dear listener, is our ritual. And yes—there’s always a lesson, brought to you by yours truly: Oishi, your neighborhood PhilosoFurr.
There are 11 coworkers—and one very dramatic hooman.
Meet the team behind the drama. And the abs behind the confusion.
There’s ten of them. Yes, 12 if you will count my Sus. So don’t fall asleep on me—I know it’s a lot, but trust me, they’re all important. Every single one of these characters is either a blessing, a lesson… or a cautionary tale wearing business casual.
So listen up. Grab a fry. Let’s begin.
Character 1: Susan V. – The Exaggerated Princess
Susan V. is what happens when espresso, glitter, and unchecked emotions form a union. She’s in Customer Service but believes she’s in a high-stakes drama. Her morning mood is sponsored by “don’t talk to me,” and by dinner she’s dramatically whispering secrets into my ear like I’m her furry therapist.
She calls me her badoodle, scoops me up like I’m a plush toy, and unleashes daily monologues that rival Netflix dramas. She wears shirts that say “Exaggerated Princess” because truth in labeling is important.
But hey—she’s loyal, loud, and loves hard. So even if my ears suffer emotional damage, I listen. Because I love her.
Character 2: Yohanes Abimbola – Gossip Analyst
Yohanes isn’t technically paid to know everything—but he does. He doesn’t spread gossip to hurt. He spreads it because he’s got a talent for “informative observation with jazz hands.”
His eyes sparkle with curiosity. His tone? Pure brunch gossip. He’s like the Wi-Fi of workplace drama—always on, mostly harmless.
He wears mint green, pumpkin orange, and positivity. Even when he delivers eyebrow-raising intel, it’s with a smile that says,
“I come in peace… but with details.”
We love him. Even when we pretend we don’t.
Character 3: Horatio T. – The HR Memo Monk
Horatio T. is the kind of guy who walked into HR one day and never left. Not physically. Not spiritually.
He’s got reddish-brown hair, thin-framed glasses, and a beige checkered suit so aggressively neutral it could erase your personality by eye contact alone. His tie? Pumpkin orange. Not because he’s fun. Because it’s mandatory brand compliance.
He doesn’t talk—he issues memos. He doesn’t walk—he stomps silently, like a disappointed librarian.
But here’s the twist: Deep, deep down in that spreadsheet-shaped soul… he has a heart. He’s helped employees file insurance claims like they were personal quests. He’s just trying to keep us from setting the place on fire—with rules.
We call him the Memo Monk because if enlightenment had a PowerPoint, he would’ve written it.
Character 4: Brenda Mondragon – The Voice of Reason
Brenda is the reason this workplace hasn’t collapsed into a flaming pit of passive aggression and bad decisions.
She’s 5’6″ of calm, moisturized authority. Her hair? Long, curly, hydrated. Her skin? Watered like a houseplant that knows its worth. She wears a calm green outfit paired with a delicate star pendant, like a walking parable with a good skincare routine. And her white sneakers? Spotless. Like her reputation.
Brenda is the only one who can:
Shush Yohanes mid-scoop.
Block Susan from eating a dozen donuts.
And disarm Horatio with a perfectly timed “Thank you for the memo, Horatio. We’ll take it into prayer.”
She doesn’t say much—but when she does? It’s with biblical judgment and motherly precision.
And rumor has it—she’s inviting Susan to church.
Brenda doesn’t chase drama. Drama knocks and Brenda answers with a raised brow and a scripture.
Character 5: Pete Erickson – The Number Snitch
He’s pale. He’s nervous. He clutches his calculator like it’s the last loaf of bread in a zombie apocalypse. His glasses are thick enough to see into next fiscal year. He dresses like someone who gets mad when people use the color ink in the printer. (Because he does.)
Pete’s superpower? Making everyone remember their taxes… in January.
“Don’t forget to file your W-2.”
He once tripped over a paperclip and filed an incident report… on himself.
But here’s the thing: Pete means well. He’s just… Pete. He’s the human version of a paper jam. Awkward, unavoidable, and kind of tragic. But he keeps us legal. Barely.
So we nod. We thank him. And we keep our receipts—just in case.
Character 6: Macchismo D. – The Sales Adonis
According to Susan, Macchismo is “so hot, volcanoes feel self-concious.” Her pupils turn into tiny cartoon hearts every time she talks about him. It’s deeply concerning.
Macchismo D. works in Sales, but let’s be honest—he sells himself just by walking into a room. He’s tall, muscular, and his raven-dark hair is so flawless. His smile sparkles. Literally. I suspect teeth glitter. Still investigating.
He wears light blue polos like a superhero costume, and he says things like,
“Let’s close this deal, team!” with the exact tone of someone who thinks that’s how you get promoted.
People love him. People trust him. And honestly? That might be the real danger.
He works under Jezzie Bell, who seems to have a lipstick-shaped leash on him. But hey, I’m just the dog. What do I know?
For now, let’s just say this: Macchismo D. is dazzling.
Character 7: Dinah Montgomery – The Gossip Queen
If Yohanes is the office sparkle of harmless scoop, Dinah is the cold-brew version—strong, bitter, and served with no remorse.
She walks in like she owns the building’s secrets. Black hair sleek as betrayal, snarky eyes, and glasses that serve zero optical purpose but scream “I see everything.” Her dark brown lipstick says “professional,” but her tone says “you’re about to get emotionally audited.”
Dinah doesn’t just spill tea—she serves it pre-scorched. She’s not loud, but when she talks, people lean in… or leave. Because if Dinah says:
“I saw Pete at the store,” you know she’s about to follow it up with something like: “…and the woman he was with wasn’t wearing a ring. Just saying.”
She doesn’t ask questions—she plants landmines.
Nobody really likes Dinah. But nobody wants to be on her radar either. Because if she doesn’t know your dirt… she’ll make some for you.
Character 8: Jezzie Bell Morgan – The Corporate Siren
Jezzie Bell Morgan doesn’t walk. She glides. Like a well-funded lawsuit in designer heels.
Her red hair? Volcanic. Her lipstick? Same color as danger. Her vibe? “Sign here, sweetheart, and lose your soul in quarterly installments.”
She’s the manager of the Sales department, which basically makes her the queen of convincing people to do things they’ll regret and thank her for afterward. She commands with a smile that says:
“I already know what you’re going to say, and I’ve planned five responses, three bribes, and one perfectly timed sigh.”
Jezzie doesn’t need to raise her voice. She just tilts her head and suddenly Macchismo is nodding like a bobblehead in a sauna.
Her earrings sparkle. Her fingernails point like accusations. And when she says “trust me,” your instincts scream no—but your career prospects whisper yes.
No one’s sure what she wants. But they know not to get in her way.
Character 9: Philip Vaughn – The Office White Knight
Most people in the office don’t pay much attention to Philip Vaughn. He’s listed as Internal Ops Assistant, which is corporate speak for “does everything quietly and without applause.”
He doesn’t talk much. He doesn’t insert himself in gossip. He just shows up—early, focused, clean notebook, clean shirt, eyes like he’s reading your soul and your Google search history.
But here’s the part no one really gets: When things go wrong—when Jezzie’s manipulating, Dinah’s detonating, and Macchismo is flexing his moral confusion— Philip steps in. Not loudly. Not dramatically. He just does the right thing like it’s muscle memory.
Word around the breakroom is he’s a war veteran, which makes sense. He’s calm in chaos. Gentle with people. But firm when boundaries are crossed.
He’s got white knight energy—the kind that doesn’t ask for credit. The kind that protects without performance. The kind that doesn’t bow to office power games or ego theatrics.
You’ll probably overlook him. But he’s watching. And if you’re one of the good ones? He’s already in your corner.
Character 10: Jasper P. – The Intern Who Spills Coffee and Feelings
Jasper P. is the intern. You’ll know it the second you meet him—partly because he’ll tell you, and partly because he’ll already be apologizing for something.
He’s got long-ish curly hair, permanently startled eyes, and the overall energy of someone who’s late for a meeting that doesn’t exist.
He talks like a rapper who’s been hit with a mild anxiety attack:
“Yo, yo, my bad, my fault, I was gonna fix that spreadsheet but then I spilled my latte and—uh—Pete slipped on it but he’s fine I think, and also the printer’s making a weird noise?”
Jasper spills coffee, tea, water, information, and vibes. But he means well. And that’s the part that matters.
And every time he spills something (which is… often), Ishmael appears—quietly, mop in hand. Never scolds. Never sighs. Just cleans up.
Jasper may be clumsy. But he’s trying. And that makes him important. Not because he’s perfect—but because he wants to be better.
Character 11: Ishmael – The Janitor With a Mysterious Calm
Ishmael is… different. He doesn’t say much. He doesn’t need to.
He wears an old janitor uniform, faded and clean. Silver hair, quiet eyes, and a beard that says “I’ve seen things, but I’ve forgiven most of them.”
He’s always there. Not in a creepy way—more in a divine timing, slow-motion mop-wielding kind of way.
Someone spills coffee? Ishmael’s already halfway there. Printer explodes? Ishmael’s got a wrench, a rag, and a quote from Proverbs. Jezzie tries to verbally flatten a coworker? Ishmael makes eye contact once, and she forgets her next sentence.
People treat him like just a janitor. But those of us who watch—we know. There’s something about him that feels bigger.
He moves like a man with nothing to prove and everything to teach—if you’re paying attention.
They call him Ishmael the Janitor. But honestly? We don’t know who he really is. Not yet.
And that’s the crew.
Now you know who’s who. So when the drama starts—you won’t get lost.
The real office saga begins in Episode 2. See You! 📡 Totally Made-Up Company Alert:The Signal Co.: Not your internet provider — but we will disconnect your emotional stability. We don’t sell broadband. We sell breakdowns.
Have you ever felt like something good is about to happen?
I did—in the shower. There must be something magical in tap water, or maybe it was just the conditioner finally reaching my brain. Whatever it was, I felt a shift.
For the past few years, my heart has been heavy with sadness and discouragement. My mind? Full of anxious thoughts doing laps. I hit that weird emotional state where I wasn’t happy or sad—just okay. The “emotionally buffering” zone. I even lost count of how many times I Googled “drifting through life means.”
(And yes, I might look ten years younger than my age, but I’ve lived through enough plot twists to earn those Googles.)
I used to cling to a quote I found online—“live life moment to moment.” It helped, kind of. For a while. But eventually, I realized: I need more than a Pinterest mantra.
What I thought I needed was a man. A strong, strategic, steady man. Translation: a husband. A handsome one who would sweep me off my feet, take me on wild adventures, and look good in travel selfies.
Look, don’t judge me. I’ve been single for a long time. Let a girl dream.
But here’s the plot twist: I didn’t need a man. I needed healing.
I kept looking outward—promotion, success, plane tickets—chasing things I thought would make me feel whole. But the advice always circled back to the same things:
“Find happiness within.” “Help someone in need.” “Be grateful.”
And I was like: I am someone in need. What do you mean “be grateful”? I’m barely hanging on!
But then… I came across this verse again. And something in me softened:
Philippians 4:6-7 “Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and minds through Christ Jesus.”
So I tried. I prayed. I thanked Him—even when I didn’t feel like it at first. And something shifted.
No, I’m not suddenly problem-free or perfectly happy. But I feel different. I feel a quiet strength, a steadiness. A sense that even if I don’t get what I’m asking for, He hears me. And that’s enough.
To my fellow citizens of the Republic of Anxiety: Try gratitude. Not just the hashtag version. The raw, shaky kind. Memorize that verse. Whisper it when the spiral starts. Put it in your heart.
Because something good is about to happen. Even if it’s just peace. And honestly? That’s more than enough.
“Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.” — Matthew 6:34
We worry about everything. Money. Jobs. Bills. What people think. Where our lives are headed. Whether we’ll ever get the things we’re longing for. (Or in my case, whether I’ll ever get a husband. Yes, I’m single — waving at all the single guys out there. 👋)
And for parents? Add a few more layers of worry — spouses, kids, school fees, and why the electricity bill suddenly looks like it was written in Greek.
Let me tell you a story from my early days in the UAE. Spoiler: it includes heat, humility, near-starvation, and one small miracle with a side of dates.
Welcome to RAK, the Budget Adventure Package
I loved my life in the UAE. The desert safaris, the food, the stunning buildings, and friendships with people from all over the world — it felt like a movie. But here’s the truth: even the best movies have a few horror scenes.
One day, my company decided to transfer me from Dubai to Ras Al Khaimah (RAK). I was nervous, sure — I didn’t know anyone there. But also excited… because I’m stubborn like that. ✨New experience! ✨No backup plan! ✨What could go wrong!
Well. Let’s talk about the part where I only had 20 dirhams to my name. Not 200. Not 2,000. Twenty.
And I had to:
Move to a new city
Pay rent in advance
Pay a carlift (no car!)
Exit the country soon (visa expiring, fun yaay!)
Eat food like a regular human
Mood? Full-blown panic. Budget? Spiritual Options? Cry, pray, or cry-while-praying.
Enter: The Unexpected Provision
My manager told me to go visit Al Hamra Mall before the move. It was new, bright, and weirdly empty. Retailers were chilling outside their stores like it was their front porch.
There, I met a woman — let’s call her M. We started chatting and I told her I’d be moving to RAK but didn’t have a place yet.
And then… she offered me a place to stay. No advance rent. Just, “You can live with us.”
She even let me crash that same day and cooked for me. Hot. Cooked. Food. Reader, I almost cried on her plate.
Ramadan & the 20 Dirham Diet
Then came the real test. Ramadan started. I had no money. The carlift driver kept asking for his fare and I kept pretending I didn’t hear him. (Sorry, Mohamed. God bless your patience.)
But he kept picking me up anyway. Problem #2 solved.
Food? I pretended I was fasting. I’m Catholic, but I used the season to embrace spiritual minimalism (aka, I was broke).
Local people gave out dates and water at sunset — that became dinner. And then, M noticed… and started feeding me lunch and dinner.
And then — family to the rescue. One of my cousins from Dubai showed up out of nowhere with bags of groceries. She said she had a gut feeling I was starving.
“Turns out God has a way of whispering into your cousin’s heart mid-grocery run.”
One by one, God crossed off every worry I had — housing, transport, food — with quiet, gentle kindness.
And Then Joy Walked In
That season taught me that Matthew 6:34 is real. Don’t worry about tomorrow. Not because tomorrow is magical — But because God already lives there.
Anxiety makes you spiral. It clutters your mind like tangled wires. It keeps you up at night rehearsing disasters that never come. But joy? Joy shows up with 20 dirhams and no plan… and still believes something good will happen.
I still feel anxious, of course. I’m human. But now, I don’t let anxiety drive the car. I acknowledge her, let her sit in the back… and let Joy take the wheel.
Let Me Leave You With This
We still need to plan — don’t get me wrong. You can’t say “I want to be a pilot” and then not learn how to fly a plane. But what I’ve learned is this:
One by one, every need I was anxious about — housing, transport, food — was covered by kindness I didn’t see coming.
When you don’t have anything, trust God’s provision through the unexpected people He sends your way. Sometimes it’s not a miracle falling from the sky… sometimes it’s a carlift driver who keeps showing up even when you pretend you didn’t hear him.
Do not worry about tomorrow, He said and He meant it.
See you in the next story. Where the budget was tight, the visa was tighter… and somehow, I ended up in Iran. Not by choice, but definitely with emotion.
Colossians 3:23–24: “Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart, as working for the Lord, not for human masters, since you know that you will receive an inheritance from the Lord as a reward. It is the Lord Christ you are serving.”
Every Sunday night, I get this feeling I can’t quite explain—you know, the universal “ugh, work again tomorrow” vibe. Don’t get me wrong, I like my job. If I didn’t, I wouldn’t still be here six years later (and counting, by the way—loyalty badge unlocked).
After some reflection, I realized it’s not the actual work that makes me want to dramatically throw my laptop out the window and board the next flight (Okay, slight exaggeration. I work from home, so maybe I’d just slam the fridge door dramatically instead.)
The truth is, it’s the people—sometimes. You can be deep in your task, finally in the zone, and then boom—“Hi, can I just ask something really quick?” (Spoiler: it’s never quick.) And let’s not even talk about bosses. For the record, if any of my current teammates or manager stumble upon this post—hi! This is totally about my past jobs. Wink.
I’ve worked most of my life, held different roles, and reported to various bosses. And one thing is universal: if you and your boss are out of sync, it feels like trying to do a trust fall with someone who’s scrolling TikTok. Work becomes survival.
That’s when I found the verse above. But truthfully? At first, I resisted. “Work with all my heart? Girl, my heart is telling me to grab my slippers and scram.”
But here’s where it gets real. When I feel drained or wronged, I go back to that verse. Because it’s hard to give your best when you feel unappreciated or mistreated. Honestly, sometimes it’s hard to even give the bare minimum. But then I remember: I’m not just doing this for my company or my boss—I’m working for the Lord.
Let that sink in. “I am working for the Lord.” When I repeat that, something shifts. He is worthy of my time, my excellence—even when others aren’t. It doesn’t magically erase the stress, but it lightens the weight I carry.
I’m not saying we shouldn’t aim to impress our managers or be team players. They have authority, and we honor that. But at the end of the day—as we say here in my country, quoting an action star—“It’s just work. Nothing personal.”
Insert moment of truth here:
And just to be clear—it’s not like I didn’t want anyone to ask questions. Actually, I feel honored when someone asks me how to do things because it means they trust my knowledge. But it’s the ones who ask without even trying to look for the answer first—or when the answer is literally staring at them from the screen—that can be a little frustrating. Like… open your eyes, dude! The answer is right there. Highlighted. In bold. With sparkles.
Of course, not all bosses are villains. Maybe some just had a few rough chapters that turned them cold and guarded. You know, like Scar—Mufasa’s brother in The Lion King. Maybe he started out okay, but somewhere along the line, he let bitterness take over. And then you have bosses like Mufasa—wise, composed, and protective. Alright, let’s stop here before I break down the entire Lion King trilogy. Hakuna Matata, moving on!
A Short Prayer
Dear God, Thank You for the life You’ve given us. You know how many times I’ve cried because of mistreatment at work. You’ve seen my bitterness when words cut deep, and yet You’ve always carried me through.
I pray not just for myself, but for everyone who feels unseen, hurt, or overwhelmed in their workplace. Help us to find comfort in Your Word, and to remember that we are ultimately working for You. Let that truth fuel us to keep showing up—with heart, with strength, and with grace.
In Jesus’ name, Amen.
✨ “When work feels heavy, remember who you’re really working for.” 🙏
Character 1: Susan V. – The Exaggerated Princess
Character 2: Yohanes Abimbola – Gossip Analyst
Character 3: Horatio T. – The HR Memo Monk
Character 4: Brenda Mondragon – The Voice of Reason
Character 5: Pete Erickson – The Number Snitch
Character 6: Macchismo D. – The Sales Adonis
Character 7: Dinah Montgomery – The Gossip Queen
Character 8: Jezzie Bell Morgan – The Corporate Siren
Character 9: Philip Vaughn – The Office White Knight
Character 10: Jasper P. – The Intern Who Spills Coffee and Feelings
Character 11: Ishmael – The Janitor With a Mysterious Calm
Ember - Fire and Soul 