Just. Bury. Me
In some dank, dark hole where no light ever penetrates. Let me rot in the heaps of interview boo-boos and lumps of awkward silences. Like last week, I was there early. This time, I remembered to bring my resume.
Just as I walked into the bank, my stomach began to hurt. The bloody nasi lemak I had at Orange yesterday was threatening to fuck things up.
I got directions from the HR lady for the restroom, and hurried there. Walked through the first door with the ‘toilet’ sign on it and ended up in the gents’. I backed a hasty retreat and nearly collided with the Head Of Recruitment i met in Australia who was just standing outside, talking on her mobile. She stared in shock, and what could I do but grin cheesily and run down the hallway into the ladies.
Who in their right mind will hire such an idiot???
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When I was handing in my driver’s license to get a visitor pass from the guard before the interview, there was a middle-aged man carrying an obnoxiously huge and colourful bunch of flowers right behind me. My years of ’sharing’ during the stupid English Lit tests in secondary school had taught me to read small print from a distance. So I saw a ‘Happy Anniversary’ on the card, and nearly melted. Here was a man, so in touch with his emotions, and having the absolute balls to walk into his wife’s department with that awful bouquet just because it’s their anniversary.
So I said, "Wah encik, your wife is very lucky la."
He looked at me, and said, "Bukan isteri saya lah, saya tukang hantar aje."
Sigh.
