Oh Boogie
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I can't believe you let this type of work consume your ability to tell right from wrong. You're so severely underpaid, and yet you continue to work, despite there being a very good chance you won't be paid because you simply cannot finish. I've been trying to reason with you. What you did was work, while trying to talk it out with me. All you did was pay lip service. Quite honestly, you don't see what you have to lose from not stopping.
I actually have to get mad at you before you actually stop working, and let me reason things out with you. At which point I'm no longer in the mood nor capacity to reason anymore. Because you're not reasoning.
What sort of obligations are we talking about? You mean you actually have an obligation to the company? Are you bullshitting me? I think you are. You're not even tied to them as a part time worker. So what sort of obligations do you see that I do not? If you tell me you have some sort of obligation to your cousin. I'm afraid she has the obligation to listen to you, and freaking help you when you tell her you simply cannot finish the work even with the help of someone else. Sadly she didn't fulfil that obligation. What makes you think you need to fulfil whatever illusionistic obligation you have to her?
I've been trying to tell you to stop, and all the reasons in the world you should stop, to the point which I can be said to be a mad man. You didn't listen. Do not blame me for getting upset or angry. You had the chance. You didn't take it, you ploughed through your chance and continued to work. I had the thought of telling you, "I'm breaking up with you." to get your damned attention. And remind you, that you have more to lose than to gain. Apparently you don't see it.
You do not see the big picture. That's why you continue. You don't see it. Damage control? Don't screw around with me.
Trudging through the aimless walkway, lit only by the lamp posts under an orange hue. His body wrecked by the demand physical of his work. Despite turning 19 this year, his back aches as though he is 53 years and unable to exert where strength is needed accordingly. Has he aged so much?
Now that the hell of roadshow is over. The time for packing up is here. I am as tired as who knows what is tired. My back aches like shit. I think I pulled it. Yeah my body is 53 years old. Talk about holy shit.
A missing page in a book. The missing key on a keyboard. Lost pixels on the screen. The fork without the knife.
With you across the borders, into the land of shopping sprees and no worries. Your absence in person is like the lock missing the key.
You deserve no respect. You don't even deserve the job. Quite honestly, you jump at the most far-fetched conclusions. Especially when I haven't taken my dinner, and you say that that packet of noodles is for someone else before asking around whose is it. Your ingenuity surprises me not. And I so enjoy eating my dinner IN YOUR FACE when you made a strong, oh-so-confident assumption that it's someone else's dinner.
You stand in front of a laptop, checking out phone deals, checking out the prices of airline tickets, checking out promotions that have nothing to do with electronics. You move away from the laptop when there's a prospective customer who approaches the laptop and looks for the price. You don't even let the words "can I help you?" our of your mouth. You just stand there like the useless guy you are. Even my little brother does more sales than you. Perhaps not in volume, but in quantity. And that speaks volumes of you.
You come in late EVERDAY. We all report atleast 30 minutes earlier. You on the contrary, come in 30 minutes LATER after the shop opens. Don't BULLSHIT ME. When you arrive at 12, your excuse is that "you missed the bus"?! Hello? How long have you been working? Maybe 10 years since my uncle hired you? But I swear to my disgusts at preaching christians that you have been working for more than 10 shitty years. Simply because you have gout doesn't change the fact that you're exactly the same as the rest of us. And what the hell is with you sleeping ON THE JOB? Playing your iPhone ON THE JOB? Playing some game on the laptop while ON THE JOB? For some random dude who's starving in some third world country's sake, our LADY BOSS WHO KNOWS NUTS ABOUT WHAT HER PHONE CAN ACTUALLY DO LET ALONE COMPUTERS IS MORE PRODUCTIVE THAN YOU ARE BY THE SHEER NUMBER OF DAYS SHE'S AROUND IN THE SHOP. She can leave the shop to have lunch with her friends as and when she likes, because she actually holds a POSITION, a fairly POWERFUL position in which 4 letters spells out what sort of power she holds. It's spelt B-O-S-S. You on the other hand, are a mere EMPLOYEE just like me. So shit you and your shitty "privileges". To put it bluntly, you're there only because our lady boss isn't the most fluent person in the language of IT. You're hopeless.
For the record, your son ain't the best employee around either. But he definitely sells more than you when he's on the third damn floor.
Dragging myself out of bed at 830 in the morning, dreading my way to the toilet with my work uniform and towel in hand.
Feeling the warm water hit my face in the morning, a nice wake up call from a relatively deep slumber. With my eyes closed, I feel an itch in my throat. Suddenly I arch forward with my palm to my mouth, I start coughing relentlessly like an old man. Becoming more breathless each time, with each forceful expulsion of air, bringing along a product of the body to my mouth. The taste of egg feels my mouth, with a hint of iron. Spitting whatever it was into the white basin next to the shower, I stare at the reddish result of what was an episode of what was supposed to come only in fifty years from today. Realizing the extent of a minor cough has reached, I thought to myself: "Wow. Blood. Just awesome, simply what I needed."
I actually have to get mad at you before you actually stop working, and let me reason things out with you. At which point I'm no longer in the mood nor capacity to reason anymore. Because you're not reasoning.
What sort of obligations are we talking about? You mean you actually have an obligation to the company? Are you bullshitting me? I think you are. You're not even tied to them as a part time worker. So what sort of obligations do you see that I do not? If you tell me you have some sort of obligation to your cousin. I'm afraid she has the obligation to listen to you, and freaking help you when you tell her you simply cannot finish the work even with the help of someone else. Sadly she didn't fulfil that obligation. What makes you think you need to fulfil whatever illusionistic obligation you have to her?
I've been trying to tell you to stop, and all the reasons in the world you should stop, to the point which I can be said to be a mad man. You didn't listen. Do not blame me for getting upset or angry. You had the chance. You didn't take it, you ploughed through your chance and continued to work. I had the thought of telling you, "I'm breaking up with you." to get your damned attention. And remind you, that you have more to lose than to gain. Apparently you don't see it.
You do not see the big picture. That's why you continue. You don't see it. Damage control? Don't screw around with me.
Choose
Sometimes morality and work ethics get in the way of my job. Whether do I earn more money from the person? Or let myself give in and give the person a larger discount. Plagued by such choices at times.
Trudging through the aimless walkway, lit only by the lamp posts under an orange hue. His body wrecked by the demand physical of his work. Despite turning 19 this year, his back aches as though he is 53 years and unable to exert where strength is needed accordingly. Has he aged so much?
Now that the hell of roadshow is over. The time for packing up is here. I am as tired as who knows what is tired. My back aches like shit. I think I pulled it. Yeah my body is 53 years old. Talk about holy shit.
A missing page in a book. The missing key on a keyboard. Lost pixels on the screen. The fork without the knife.
With you across the borders, into the land of shopping sprees and no worries. Your absence in person is like the lock missing the key.
You deserve no respect. You don't even deserve the job. Quite honestly, you jump at the most far-fetched conclusions. Especially when I haven't taken my dinner, and you say that that packet of noodles is for someone else before asking around whose is it. Your ingenuity surprises me not. And I so enjoy eating my dinner IN YOUR FACE when you made a strong, oh-so-confident assumption that it's someone else's dinner.
You stand in front of a laptop, checking out phone deals, checking out the prices of airline tickets, checking out promotions that have nothing to do with electronics. You move away from the laptop when there's a prospective customer who approaches the laptop and looks for the price. You don't even let the words "can I help you?" our of your mouth. You just stand there like the useless guy you are. Even my little brother does more sales than you. Perhaps not in volume, but in quantity. And that speaks volumes of you.
You come in late EVERDAY. We all report atleast 30 minutes earlier. You on the contrary, come in 30 minutes LATER after the shop opens. Don't BULLSHIT ME. When you arrive at 12, your excuse is that "you missed the bus"?! Hello? How long have you been working? Maybe 10 years since my uncle hired you? But I swear to my disgusts at preaching christians that you have been working for more than 10 shitty years. Simply because you have gout doesn't change the fact that you're exactly the same as the rest of us. And what the hell is with you sleeping ON THE JOB? Playing your iPhone ON THE JOB? Playing some game on the laptop while ON THE JOB? For some random dude who's starving in some third world country's sake, our LADY BOSS WHO KNOWS NUTS ABOUT WHAT HER PHONE CAN ACTUALLY DO LET ALONE COMPUTERS IS MORE PRODUCTIVE THAN YOU ARE BY THE SHEER NUMBER OF DAYS SHE'S AROUND IN THE SHOP. She can leave the shop to have lunch with her friends as and when she likes, because she actually holds a POSITION, a fairly POWERFUL position in which 4 letters spells out what sort of power she holds. It's spelt B-O-S-S. You on the other hand, are a mere EMPLOYEE just like me. So shit you and your shitty "privileges". To put it bluntly, you're there only because our lady boss isn't the most fluent person in the language of IT. You're hopeless.
For the record, your son ain't the best employee around either. But he definitely sells more than you when he's on the third damn floor.
Dragging myself out of bed at 830 in the morning, dreading my way to the toilet with my work uniform and towel in hand.
Feeling the warm water hit my face in the morning, a nice wake up call from a relatively deep slumber. With my eyes closed, I feel an itch in my throat. Suddenly I arch forward with my palm to my mouth, I start coughing relentlessly like an old man. Becoming more breathless each time, with each forceful expulsion of air, bringing along a product of the body to my mouth. The taste of egg feels my mouth, with a hint of iron. Spitting whatever it was into the white basin next to the shower, I stare at the reddish result of what was an episode of what was supposed to come only in fifty years from today. Realizing the extent of a minor cough has reached, I thought to myself: "Wow. Blood. Just awesome, simply what I needed."