ok this is the REAL reason why i quit my fucking job. the biggest of all reasons.


i don't know if i got this idea from the book "who took my cheese?" but yeah. here goes.


after a long day at work, especially if we work past 1.30am, we would cab home. but before that, if we weren't gonna work in the morning later, we would sit outside the marina square 7-11 and just chat. both the captains and the waiters and waitresses would be there till the wee hours of the morning. (i know the font has changed but have already given up trying to change it back.)


so yeah we would just sit there and talk about stuff. gossip aplenty, but mainly things about work. yeah. some of the waitresses would ask stuff about how to improve themselves as VIP servers and stuff. the captains would explain their choices of service partners like it was some grand battle strategy. and the differences in capabilities of senior waiters and junior waiters.


it struck me (amidst the cloud of cigarette smoke) the rather disturbing thought that these people were actually SERIOUS about this job!


i mean, come on. to me, this job was about 3 things.

1. the physical work to kinda keep me from getting horribly obese.
2. keeping myself occupied during the holidays
3. earning myself a little pocket money so as not to put uneccessary financial burden on my aunt.


but what kinda freaked me out was that the people, especially the captains, viewed this job as a way to earn money to feed themselves and possibly their families! and took things like being able to deliver fast and efficient service (despite having 2 tables to serve) as a laurel-worthy achievement.


they view it as a CAREER!?


o,O


pardon me saying this, but you work from noon to about 3am almost everyday, earn about 1.2k a month. you call that a career? my god you are better off squatting in a corner in chinatown making ropes out of hemp.


and because of this job, you have absolutely NO LIFE AT ALL other than the occcasional bowling session, some drinking at a pub in marina south, occasional trips to the beach, and the smoking-cum-eating-instant-noodles-cum-smoking-
cum-drinking-soy-milk-cum-drinking-tiger-beer-cum-smoking sessions outside 7-11 after a long night's work.


and you spend so much on fags, alcohol and petrol for your bikes that you are broke by the third week of the month.


i don't know about you, but that doesn't seem like much of a career to me. some of the captains are like 26 and look like they are approaching 42.


as i slowly see some of the senior waiters going on to be full-time captains, i think to myself, is that what i want to be? these people did go to school (didnt do too well in it), went in and out of jail, have tattoos all over, get into drunken fights at every dinner-and-dance the hotel organises, blah-blah...they splurge lavishly on booze, fags, and cab fares but dress (excuse me) like fucking ah bengs.


what scares me is that even the girls seem so serious about their job (which can be summed up as folding napkins, laying tablecloths, setting tables and wearing a cheongsam with a very very high slit serving drunk, plump fathers and uncles of newlywed couples). o,O


is earning $5.50-$6.50 per hour doing all that worth it? i don't get it.


so i decided to leave before i could get sucked further into the banqueting line. simply because i couldnt see much of a future in it. many singaporeans work for the money. just the money. i think thats fucking dumb. if your passion is all the above, well, good for you, but i dont see you going very far. its strange, but i cant think along the same frequency as these people.


i mean, even the chinaman dishwasher says he loves his job!


O,O


was really dumbfounded when he said that.



well , i guess its better to leave this hunk of cheap cheddar and go in search of some rich blue cheese.















and i just realised the font changed back on its own. tsk fucking annoying blogger.