Scribbles

When life gives you lemons, make grape juice and let the world wonder how you did it.

Fushi’s 3rd Day of Work

Currently listening to: —

Feeling: Photobucket

Copying and pasting yet again.

And boy does she have a lot to rant about.

ANYWAY. Yes. Work’s boring. Being a receptionist at a retirement home means constant greetings to the seniors and visitors. I don’t mind it, in fact I think it’s fun :) I also take care of lending out games, karaoke equipment, mahjong sets, room bookings, and basically keeping track of stuff. Today I helped pour coffee. (I also often have to remind the security guard who sits with me to lock doors and stuff because he doesn’t remember ANYTHING, but that’s a different story =P)

Before I started work, I was a bit excited. I went with my mom to go buy some work appropriate clothing because during my interview, I was told I wasn’t allowed to wear jeans, and my tops need a collar, so basically dress shirts. Totally understandable, very professional, I had no problem with that. I have plenty of dress shirts, it was just the bottoms I was having trouble with. The only pair of dress pants I have are my trusty high school uniform pants that I wore for 4 years, but of course, after 4 years, they don’t really fit me. My mom and I invested in 2 of those typical black straight skirts that you often see scretaries and librarians wear (Dress pants are SO EXPENSIVE >.>)

So the day before work, the “assistant administrator” (I’m putting that in quotations because it sounds better. Essentially she doesn’t do anything at her table except surf the Internet for pop stars and the occasional printing out signs and notices with horrible English) gave me a phone call reminding me I had work. I was like “Oh yes, of course, I can’t wait to start!”. AND THEN she was like, “Oh yes, and make sure to wear pants. You’ll be helping to set up chairs”. And I gave an eyebrow raise. Apparently I needed to wear pants to put chairs in an orderly manner across an open space. Apparently receptionists do this. Whatever. I didn’t complain, just went along with it and agreed.

BUT OF COURSE IT WAS A PROBLEM. All my pants are either jeans, baggy cargo pants, or shorts, and neither of them are work-appropriate. So yep, first day of work I was in my high school uniform pants that made me look like I was born without a rear end. I wore that the next day, too, and my mom commented on how funny I looked. I don’t blame her. Anyway, I accidently dropped a drop of yoghurt on my pants, so today (my third day), I was in one of the new skirts that I BOUGHT ESPECIALLY FOR WORK AND THEY WEREN’T CHEAP. The assistant administrator (let’s call her Sue for now) saw me and was like “Oh. You look like me”.

DUDE. I will CRY a LAKE the day that I look like you. Yes, we’re both Asian girls with long hair and it just so happens we’re both wearing black skirts and black tights, but I must say your skirt is way higher than mine and I’m actually amazed how you can go to work like that.

But anyway.

So yes, me, trying to keep the peace, was like “Oh. I’m very sorry. I know I’m supposed to wear pants to work, but my only pair of work-suitable pants are in the wash, and I don’t have anything else”. And she was like, “Oh, alright, but just make sure you don’t next time, OK?”

NO. IT’S NOT OK. Why am I required to wear pants to work? All the other ladies sitting at a desk are wearing mini pleated skirts. I can totally move chairs in a skirt, in fact, I did it today and the person who asked me to help was amazed at how much energy I had.

But of course, I said alright, and went back to my seat. If I wan’t assigned by Sue to cut a 4-feet high stack of legal sized paper into A4 sized paper, I would have went to ask my manager if it was alright to be in a skirt. But yeah, I was stuck cutting paper. Not with those giant machines with the blade that you push down that can cut like 25 sheets at once. It was those cheap plastic flat ones with the ruler as a guide. I was cutting 5-8 sheets of paper at a time. I did this for 5 hours yesterday. And 2 hours today. Oh well, it helps pass the time.

I saw my dad (Yes, I work with my dad. He’s the superintendant, but no one’s supposed to know this =P) walk into the manager’s office to discuss some drainage pipe issues, and I quickly texted him to ask him to ask my manager (he shall be called Bob) why I wasn’t allowed to wear a skirt. My dad already knew about how I was told no skirts allowed last night, and he couldn’t quite figure out why either.

Well, it turns out Bob was busy (my dad texted me back saying he mentioned it to Bob and Bob would speak with me later, but he never did), so he quickly left to check something, and while my dad was waiting, he heard Sue complain to another co-worker saying how she’s “having the biggest trouble wearing clothes now because she looks like the new girl!”.

Yes. Wearing clothes. You’re having trouble wearing clothes. YOU’RE HAVING TROUBLE WEARING CLOTHES.

HERE, THIS IS A HAND. LET ME ASSIST YOU WITH PUTTING THAT CARDIGAN ON YOU. Or maybe I can slap you across the face.

HAHAHAHAHA. WHAT. OK. I can’t wear a skirt because YOU’RE wearing a skirt and YOU’RE just jealous I’m taller and have longer legs than you. You’re scared of people saying we look similar (yes, today another person said I looked like Sue because I was wearing black tights with my skirt). WHAT IS THIS. Are black tights a new phenomenon? Are they a rare fashion accessory that only higher ups can wear? Don’t give me pathetic excuses that I have to help move chairs. I can do that in my underwear.

But yes. What an awesome team to work with. I have more complains about Sue and the other lady (her name shall be Mary in the future), seniors and what not, but they’re seniors, so I’ll let it slide.

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2 Comments»

  Ronnie wrote @

lol welcome to the working world -___-

  selinebyron wrote @

Your rants are so enjoyable hahaha even after a second read. =P


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