I take back every single moronic pronouncement that I made previously on this blog about me not loving money, and money NOT being the oxygen of my happiness. Because it is.
Money can make me put up with:
(1) Being a sales promoter.
"Hello, would you like try our kueh lapis? We are having a $10 off promotion, only for today, last day."
Try repeating that a hundred times in a few hours, and then getting rejected about 60% of the time.
(2) Travelling an hour just to get to work.
They didn't get back to me initially, because they thought that I lived too far from the workplace. But, I practically insisted, that it was no huge deal at all travelling from the west to the east side of singapore every bloody morning.
(3) Running for the bus like an idiot every morning.
It's true. The further you live from your intended destination, the earlier you tend to reach. Remember how back in school, when the earliest to reach the school was the same person living furthest away from the school, and how the latecomers all lived nearby?
Well, I'm proud to say that I've ALWAYS been on time (i.e 5 to 10 minutes late only) since I started work about a week ago. No mean feat, I'll have you know. Everyone who knows me knows that I walk at the pace of an old granny carrying ten bags, and absolutely abhor running for the bus because I dread the pityingly looks on the faces of everyone who happens to be standing at the bus stop, when I've just ran 10,000 km after the bus and missed it by a whizz of a second.
(4) My stupid bloody moronic idiotic ungentlemanly Indonesian boss.
Firstly, it is just NOT RIGHT, to have two girls (one young, the other pregnant) to lug two heavy luggages all the way from the car to the office, and YOU (a young, perfectly normal man) to carry a light packet of tissue paper boxes or even NOTHING, trailing behind the both of them.
Secondly, thanks to ME, I managed to help you make a total of $400+ sales in just over a few hours, and I'm not even talking about the commission, but it's bloody RUDE and INSULTING when I answer a phone call, and just happen to forget the stupid price of the prune kueh lapis because of my cluttered, overloaded mind, to say that I have been working under you for four days, and shouldn't I have memorised the price by hard now? Oh, yes, I should have. How could I have forgotten that a prune kueh lapis costs $45 for 1.2kg? Sorry. My bloody mistake.
(5) Being a food packer, sticker paster, admin staff, phone-call answering machine, rubbish collector, and I'm not even mentioning about sweating like a mad idiot in the food factory, with the moronic aircon breaking down like an old man with arthritis, leaving your entire body drenched in sweat.
Well, that's about it.
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