What is drama but life with the dull bits cut out?
-Alfred Hitchcock
As the saying goes, drama is to you what breathing is to me. Ok, I kind of just made up that quote on my own. Whatever! This is MY story, my confessions, my… memoirs of a sort.
You think working life is fun and peaches? Well, it’s not. In fact, it’s hardcore. If you think the girls in school are backstabbing and snide, you haven’t seen anything yet. If you think rumors spread like wild fire, the confines of an office will burn you alive.
The fun and games stop here. The betrayal will make you weep, the hatred will make your blood crawl. The death stares, the whispers and the lies, the scandals, the disloyalty, the abandonment, the deception, the selling out, the victimising, the fraud, the trickery, the fake friends and that monstrous thing called ‘mistrust’ will all come to a head.
This isn’t high school anymore kittens, this is real-life at THE OFFICE
After finishing form six and deciding all by myself to take a year off, or rather just being too lazy to apply to colleges while in school, I never thought I was going to get a job.
Thinking I was a big shot and ting ting ting, I made an elaborate resume encompassing all seven years of my secondary school life. I made myself sound like a martyr.
You will soon learn that every little extra curricular in secondary school counts. I was on the swim team of my school for all but two weeks back in Form 2 but I still put that on my resume. Why? Because: “Was member of school’s championship-winning swim team. Therefore, great team player,” just sounds good.
I was part of the Archery Club for two months, I missed all but two lessons. By the way. I still don’t know how to hold that bow.
“Was member of the Archery Club while in school. Therefore, has very good vision and the knack for picking up on very small details from a very far distance.” Because EVERYONE knows being in the Archery Club is the best way to get a job.
So with my detailed and somewhat padded resume (no, not FALSE resume. It’s padded), I started shopping around for jobs. I was convinced I would get numerous callbacks within mere days.
Try two months. Seems like all the padding in the world can’t beat work experience. Oh yeah, and that ‘little’ thing called The World’s Economic Crisis/The Recession/Oh-Gad-What-We-Go-Do-Wen-We-Oil-Run-Out???
But! Luck struck eventually and I got a call. They were impressed that someone so young had so many qualifications. Well, if you think being a member of my school’s tennis team for 5 days back in 2003 is a qualification, who am I to argue?
They hired me on the spot and asked me when I would start. I told them immediately. That was a BIG mistake. I should have asked them how much they paying, THEN agree to work for them.
Now, I like to fancy myself an ‘adventurous’ person. I like to try new things and venture out on my own. But if I thought my new job was going to be a simple ‘adventure’ I was dead wrong. My job makes Indiana Jones look like a fat, pudgy lifeguard. Seriously.
On my very first day, my wonderful supervisor didn’t even turn up. Then I got a lovely job letter telling me that my salary would be … well ok, let me not say exactly how much I make. But I would probably make more money selling rubber bands on the side of the highway. The busted up old computer I was given moves slower than Lindsay Lohan on her way rehab.
The one redeeming thing about my beautiful adventure is the cubicle I have. It’s the ONE bit of privacy this office offers me. But even then people always poke their fass heads inside to see what I’m doing and to make sure I’m not slacking off.
The SAD part is there is no time to slack off! I’m swamped almost every day with so much work that it would be a sin to even make a trip to the bathroom. To get an idea of my exact workload, think about it like this: if I got paid on commission, I would probably be IN a commission … a Commission of Enquiry… cough cough.
Don’t get me wrong. I love work most of the times. Ok, no. That’s a lie. I kind of like my work most of the times. The only reason I haven’t quit is because I can’t bring myself to take the walk of shame. So for now, here I am, sitting in my office, typing this undercover hoping that my LOVELY boss (a very big wig whose clients are even BIGGER wigs) won’t catch me in the middle of my little tell all.
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