Butterfly Goes To Work

The big inevitable has finally hit me. I am now pushed into the rat race, not that I'll be effectively running the gauntlet and tussling with the other worker bees though. Still, this has taken away several luxuries in my life, some of which I've come to espouse as a lifestyle neccessity in living decently as a human being. My appropriation of time and wealth to these hedonistic acts are simple but full of sense.

- Spend all the money you have on important stuff like Hermes wallets, Gucci sunglasses and LV bags. Do not forget your friends like Jonny Walker and Martell either. Spend all the money you have before you start wasting it on birthday gifts and dinner treats, or before your asshole of a partner starts eyeing that Rolex or Tiffany.

- Slouch over the couch and make it a personal challenge not to walk more than 50m a day. You'd need a good remote, cable TV and a urine bag. It also helps if you have a maid like me. Tell them to bring you food and water periodically. Reject anything that is not served fresh.

- Sleep in. You'd want to at least clock 12hrs of sleep a day at least once in your week. Wake up way after lunch, that way you save wasting time on breakfast and lunch and you can just have brunch.

- Divide your time between partying and sex. I usually have these two mutually exclusive since most of my partying ends in me being drunk enough to fuck doorknobs. This is good preparation for time management. Even better so when you have to juggle more than one women at a time.

The night before work was horrible, considering that 12mn is usually when I'm most lively, I managed to overcome this by reading Harry Potter under dim lighting, while tucked away in bed. 3 pages later, I'm asleep and drooling on the page. Great way to have my page bookmarked.

The next day, I get that familiar introductory to working life, RUSH HOUR. Not funny at all. The only thing more unbearable than having to wake up early is living with inconsiderate Singaporeans. NO ONE gives up their seat to me. Lazy ass worker bees.. all they think about is themselves.

The occupational line I'm in has nothing to do with my field of studies in the uni. Then again, Sociology was all about being in the major with the most interesting modules and classes with the prettiest babes. No, neither am I in the media industry like some of you guessed. I am in this line no so much by choice than it was by persuasion.

You see, I'm being groomed for a managerial role. An undergrad with no experience, having my career path drawn out before long before I graduated. The pay isn't great, the perks aren't good and the road ahead is daunting. While waiting for work to be passed to me, I sat at the desk thinking about all the stuff I could have done.

I'd wanted to be a journalist, since I love writing. I'd wanted to be a banker, since I love money. All this when I really should be a KTV prostitute since I love drinking and fucking so much. I thought about how sucky it was to be away from the CBD area, cos it meant less office ladies to look at, then I teared when I realised the office only has one young girl who is on attachment. It was a toss up between the girl's serious overbite versus the aunties, some of which looked like they strolled over from the HDB to buy milk. Totally depressing. Will not be interested in sex for the next 8hours.

Work was like how I imagined it to be, a total waste of time. I kept eyeing the MSN icon on the screen with suspicion and it took alot of maturity and sheer resoluteness to prevent myself from clicking it. It might have been a test to assess my work ethics and professionalism. I felt victorious after 15mins and decided to reward myself with a 30min coffee break. I obviously aced it.

Soon I was having a meeting with the big boss. He threw alot of big horrible words that I didn't like to hear much. Stuff like, "We're counting on you", "responsibility", "in-charge of huge clients in future", "in 2yrs time..". Word like those absolutely do not go down well with me. I start thinking of after work drinks at Balaclava, that Paul Smith shirt I like and how nice it'll be to fuck in the pantry. After 2 mins and the boss asking me a question I wasn't paying attention too, I blurt out the most diplomatic answer I could think of,

Me: "I'll do my best."

There was also no mention of more pressing issues like, "pay increment", "more off days" and "extended lunch and shortened working hours". I kept my ears on high alert for remotely similar phrases. The closest he got to was, "there's a yearly increment". That gave me mix reactions. Its like a mouse trap. To get the cheese, I have to endure the pain.

My work team is also less than flattering on my already wailing excitement to work. I'm tasked with idiots. My colleague is a VERY slow learner who likes job specialization because its in tangent with her limited brain capacity. Learn less work faster, was the one point she was desperately trying to put forward. Despite me taking a liking to her motto, she was a complete idiot,

She: "You know if you want to find the total, you have to add them up. You must click the + sign."

No shit! I would never have figured that out, I guess Nancy Drew here has solved the biggest mathematical code in history. I don't know whether to shout 'bingo!', or shout louder for a taxi to take me home. I took the nearest stapler and punctured it into my thigh. No effect. Well I guess nothing is going to be more painful than working with her.

I gave myself a second well deserved coffee break and went on a stroll downstairs. Then, a bright idea struck me, I'd go to the smoking area. Hey, if there's any hope of finding girls below 25 here, its going to be there. 5 metres from the loading area where they smoke, I see the unlawful gathering of 3 ladies.

One, in yellow top and turquoise skirt. I'd have called the fashion police and have her arrested for publicly flaunting '90's Ah Lian' colours, if not for her ankle tattoo. The other one had beautifully long wavy brown hair, fluttering with the gust of that hot afternoon breeze. Too bad she was about 40kg too heavy and her calves looked like turnips on Bruno Magli. The last was the best looking of the three, except for that she was also the oldest and completely flat chested. I wondered if she had scotch tape for bras, then decided not to waste any brain cells on her.

I headed up to take a piss. The toilet was great, it smelled like the aftermath of a fark attack. The humidity was baking a recipe for suffocation and I took quick glances to see if someone was fermenting shit in the afternoon sun. I took a quick piss, holding my breath at the same time. Might have sprayed a couple by the wall, but its not going to make any difference anyway.

The day was just great. At least I don't have to worry about getting unneccesary stiffies at work. And my colleagues don't have to worry about me hitting on them. I think I'll enjoy myself just fine..