Working It

OMG it feels so fucking good to have a day off where I don't have to do anything except lie on the bed surrounded by pillows and accompanied by my trusty Internet connection. Seriously, once you get a job that requires you to stand 8 hours a day, you'd start to appreciate the simple things in life such as sitting down and afternoon naps.

Finally, time to blog! I've had so many thoughts and things I wanted to share but every single night I come back, I plop dead on the bed from exhaustion and then all the thoughts are gone.

Many people wouldn't consider it a terribly exciting job - I'm a sales assistant, mind you - but this being The First Proper Job and all, I am excited and it's only natural that I wanna tell everybody about every tiny detail.

- Like how I effing hate waiting for the bus and the KTM to and fro every single day. I don't know how many hours of my life I've wasted just waiting and waiting ever since I started this job.

- Like how surprised I am that it's been 3-weeks plus and I am still not fired. In the beginning, I considered every day that I was NOT fired a great achievement. After that I started to feel a bit more secure cuz there are people who I feel are a bit on the sloooow side and they're still holding their jobs, so I should be OK right? Right.

- Like how happy I am to make new friends at my new workplace. I don't know what the difference is, but friends you meet from work and friends you meet from college are totally different. I'll be sad when January comes and I have to quit :(

- How I am not going to earn a single cent from this job. In the end, I'd be like Lindsay Lohan, working for clothes. Every day I'd spot something new that I HAVE TO HAVE, especially when it's stock-arrival day. I work at the girls' side and already I've targeted like 4 items. Imagine if I was working over at the guys'. Scary.

- About all the different kinds of people I have met. I've been bossed around by teenage girls, discussed knickers and bikinis with middle-aged ladies, treated rudely by rich people, treated rudely by people who are probably shopping at the wrong place (hello? Shorts? Tube tops? Seriously, go somewhere else), treated rudely by people who don't understand the "FROM RM29" sign (excuse me, the emphasis is on the FROM), served fatties who wanted to wear ultimate-skinnies and tight one-shouldered dresses (please!), served twentyplus-year-olds who wanted to look 15... OMG the people you'll meet selling clothes. Phew.

The greatest moment so far was getting my first paycheck. I have my own EPF account now. Isn't it very terribly grown-up of me? Mwahaha. Second to that would be learning and doing stuff. Like, I used to have to ask somebody every single time I wanted to do something but now I can like, do things and help customers all by myself. Hee hee isn't I clevers?

But the side effects of a job like mine is the development of a slightly obsessive-ish disorder of always wanting to pick up dropped clothes and arrange them nicely on the rail. Like really, the sight of clothes on the floor and hangers sticking out at weird angles drive me nuts now. Of course this doesn't apply when I'm in my own room. I pick up clothes and arrange them the whole day so logically that would mean that my own room is messier than ever. Duh.