Rant28 september 2008
Besides, I'm more likely to hear the ringing of my mobile than a second-long alert of a received SMS, especially if I happen to be in another part of the house. Just because you are permanently attached to your phone doesn't mean I am too. I have a life and I don't check my phone every 5 minutes waiting for something to happen. And another thing, I'm not telepathic. So, I can't tell when you would be sending me an URGENT message. If I were telepathic, I would be earning big, BIG bucks selling my psychic abilities and I would have 10 personal assistants screening my calls/messages. 24/7 too! And oh, now that I've got started, I sometimes do choose NOT to respond to a call/message (from anyone, for that matter - I don't discriminate, heh), or only do so much later, it's because I really don't feel like responding or being contacted for that matter. Yes, I do know how horrid that makes me sound. Shoot me. Shrug. I know how technology has really made life so much easier for everyone. But sometimes, you really can't help but think it really comes at the price of your personal space and privacy. Shrug. Oh well.
As she proceeded to remove the digicam from its pouch, I asked - rhetorically, of course - if she was going to video the session, again. "I do not want to be videoed." The other in the room quickly echoed my sentiments. A look of complete incomprehension crossed her face. She was taken aback and said she was just doing what she had done in the previous sessions.
Without my permission, you I dropped my head to the side and affected a mock girlish plea to lighten the mood - more for myself, so I wouldn't morph into The Warrior Princess and chakram her head off. I added that a voice recording was fine. And the other again echoed me. I watched her struggling to process the information. Confused, she said that she didn't know how to turn off the video function (to just a voice recording). Face-palm. WTF?! "I do not want to be videoed." I repeated myself, this time, in my 'so-fierce' voice and with my 'so-fierce' face. "Just don't point the lens at me," I pointed to the voice recorder I had brought into the meeting and said that could be used instead. She pointed the lens away, with great reluctance, at an EMPTY seat - not just ANY empty seat, but the one where a third was to have joined us but did not, she said aloud. Ye Gods.... just give it up already! The rest of the session went by rather smoothly, though I thought a brief episode involving her and the other was fascinating - how Small Yelping Dog finally backed down after Big Dog's calm but insistent and repeated requests that the former get something done. Good point to remember when dealing with Small Yelping Dog in the remaining days. And, most certainly, with the rest of the crew in the forseeable future. Speak softly and carry a +10 two-handed sword.
No matter, really, as long as things work out for me - like, really soon. But I've been given to understand that the timing would be tricky. You see, with just half a year to go before the changeover, nobody really wants to make major decisions that the new guard would have to see through. And for some reason, one of The Striped Ones doesn't want to risk getting the plan totally shot down by He Who Still Warms The Seat. Eh? So I told the Striped One that I thought His Majesty was the initiator because of what he wrote in my appraisal. (He later asked HR for a copy of the original appraisal.) And personally, I didn't think His Majesty would stand in my way - though I chose not to say this aloud. I did tell him however, that it didn't matter to me either way, whether we did this now, or wait until after the changeover. And it doesn't, really. If it could only be done later, or in the worst case scenario got shot down for good, life still goes on, as does everything and everyone else. And oh, that just means one less thing keeping me here - obviously, I didn't say this aloud either. Knowing that you have nothing to lose is such a wonderful feeling. The Striped Ones have decided to broach the subject with His Majesty in the next few days. They know that waiting until the changeover would mean missing the deadline and having to wait another year - which defeats the purpose, really, of getting me.... upgraded. And, this much I know about The Heir - who was the initiator - he intends to begin his rule, shall we say, in comfort and style. Perhaps he knows too that he needs to find a way to secure my.... loyalty - the sponsorship, in full, would certainly entail a substantial bond - at least for as long as he holds the reins. In the meantime, I've been asked to go ahead with the preparation work. Now, to get hold of the past years' GMAT papers....
Once again, it began with Nutella panning the camera around to capture everyone's face. I noticed that this time, she took special effort to aim the camera lens at the rest of us, who were seated at the other side of the long table. "Isn't it JUST a voice recording?" Oh, apparently NOT. And why is that so? Because Nutella doesn't know how to turn off the "video" mode on the camera. Don't know my ass. It's a fucking digital camera, not a voice recorder, what do you think?!! We have fucking FOUR voice recorders in the office and you couldn't have easily gotten hold of one instead?!! Siow cha bor! There was not even a show of seeking permission to FILM the session - Nutella was intent on filming the entire session. And she came prepared with an extra memory card this time. Yeah, don't know my bleeding ass. (Considering that she would soon no longer be a staff, I wonder if we can prevent her from removing a work-related proceeding from the office.) Though the camera was mostly on the other two, that did not stop me from my migratory flight towards the other end of the table, literally inching my chair farther and farther away. A couple of times, she trained the camera on me while seeking my confirmation on matters - her "proof" that I had "agreed" or would "do" certain things. This, IN SPITE of my obvious discomfort and displeasure. KNN. This one really SIOW until no hope already. The third of five is scheduled for this Friday. As I am IC, Nutella would probably be training the camera on me. Maybe I should ki siow also and do what some people do to paparazzi. Grrr....
I think I'm just going to junk my old penpal letters.... I wonder if I should junk my old Magic cards too....
If it hadn't been for the limit of the memory chip - which Nutella noted aloud - she would have very likely attempted (in vain for sure, because I would have disclaimed continued involvement in her paranoid delusions and walked out of the room at that moment!) to record the entire session on video. Once again, WTF??!! So, the first of five scheduled sessions ended after some 90 minutes today - even though Nutella tried to push ahead with the second session which wasn't supposed to happen until a week later. The afternoon was not without its.... difficulties. While most of the requirements were met, we did have to request for some additional.... documentation, at which point, and a few more after that, Nutella triumphantly pointed to the running recorder and said it was all on audio anyway. WTF??!! In fact, the recording wasn't so much a record of the proceedings than (and this was unsurprising, and though not unexpected, was still really irritating) Nutella resorting to her modus operandi of getting her way by persisting at repeatedly asking for affirmation of her agenda, until she wore down the other party. And this time, she would have it all on tape - of her mostly talking to herself, really. Oh Ye Gods....
[2]
Did I miss something again? ......
Impressed anot? Heh.
It's the person you become on the way there.
:-/ Ok lor.
Applications have to be made a year in advance. Well, that's one way to keep me around for at least a few years more - if everything is paid for. I wonder what I should work on manifesting next. Grin.
So there.
I'm beginning to wonder if she's the real deal, especially after the Boss expresses an interest in how I had spent my day off today (well, Boss, you HAVE been pestering me to clear at least 27 days of my goddamn nobody-bothered-to-tell-me-I-had-48-days-left-of-leave before the end of the year), and then makes a cryptic comment about changes in store for me. Maybe I'm being paranoid. Or maybe They don't know about the recruiter (yet) and They are the ones being paranoid. Ok, I think everyone's just being paranoid here. Laugh.
If you're so very, very unhappy here - and I don't doubt you are - and if you truly don't expect things to get better, you should just leave. Why stay on and make yourself unhappy, and while you're at it, make other unhappy people even more unhappy, and in turn, yourself? It all comes back eventually. But if as you say, you are still here because you have nowhere else to go, then why not try to make the best of the situation so these 8 hours that you so resent having to tolerate 5 times every week can pass with less pain? It's not like I'm asking you to morph into Happy Smurf and pretend the cause of your unhappiness is no longer there. I'm simply asking that you refocus your obsession instead on clearing the task at hand and getting through the day, if not ALSO trying to make things better while you're at it since you think you really have nowhere else to go. What's the harm in that when you've got nothing to lose anyway? And honestly? Hanging on to that pathetic excuse of a married man who takes out his own problems by emotionally abusing you ain't helping either. Going on, and on, and on, about how you just don't know why you simply can't stay away from what you yourself acknowledge to be an obnoxious man is starting to sound really stupid. Déjà vu? So this is what I told you today - except for the part about the married man of course. That would have been out of line. Besides, I'm not here to mind your personal life.
Otherwise, it's just shedding of dead skin - I'll'd like to think that, anyway. Too many bad things in the old regime which people from those days find too hard to forget.
And it looks like this weekend is all about spilling the beans - the trick is to catch people unawares so they don't have time to self-censor. Heh. Heh. Heh. What can I say. I'm on a roll here. Hiaks.
Midnight Meat Train - Yawn. Yeah, one-word reviews are all these 2 are getting. Snort.
And then I received a call from a recruiting firm today. If only it wasn't for a position with my very first employer, and people who I currently happen to have not infrequent communication with - who also happen to have even more not infrequent communication with my present paymasters. The recruiting firm did not know all this before calling me of course. Oh well. If people keep their mouths shut, all's the better. If they don't, well.... shrug.... who knows what interesting prospects might come up. Anyway. I have 48 days of leave remaining, of which 27 days have to be cleared because the revised HR policies dictate that I can only carry over a year's entitement at the most (that is, 21 days) - and the powers-to-be have declared there would be no encashment. (Awww.) Exceptions can be made, upon application and subject to approval, but I really don't see the point of making an issue out of it. In the first place, I didn't know I had that much leave left (which came about because, let's just say, HR was sleeping). So the plan now is that I would be working 4-day weeks until the end of the year - subject of course to exigencies of service. Cool, right?
Mother notices me preparing to boil some ready-packed Chinese herbal soup. Mother: "SF teach you to boil this?" Me: "......" I mean, how do you respond to something like that - after the umpteenth time? And so, I didn't. Later, she gets on my case for "over-boiling" - barely an hour after I started. Mother: "Why do you have to boil it for so long? How long more do you intend to boil it???" Me: "It's herbal soup. It's supposed to boil for a LONG time." SIGH.
That invisible tugging on the skin of your arm each time it reached out.... that invisible weight your arm suddenly seems to be bearing.... that invisible warmth spreading through the entire length of your arm.... how your arm suddenly feels like it's moving in slow motion.... Every breath you take.
All inhibitions shed. No more hiding. Falling. No more furtive glances when you thought the other's not looking. The rush of free-fall urging you on. No turning back. Faster. I didn't care if the eyes across the table knew - because I wanted them to. And it felt soooo good.
I actually fantasized about kissing another woman. Mouth on Mouth..... lips brushing..... then pressing on pink.... moving against the other's.... savouring.... ZOMG. That's so very wrongggg.... (that is, for me but of course; no judgement on anyone else for whom it's the converse case) Notgoodnotgoodnotgood....
PPS: Of course it stopped at the kissing lah! Then??!!!
Me? I spend the 90 minutes 'meditating' upon what just happened at work; things that happened last week, last month, last year, last decade even; people I like, people I don't like, people I'm still deciding whether to like or not; myself; whether I'm going to write about any of this, and the words I'll use. So basically, I engage in all manner of no-no mental/emotional clutter. And some days, the good days, swimming around in this mental/emotional clutter, I take a turn, like any other turn I've taken on any other day, and there IT is, looking like it's always been there, but that I've somehow missed it. Or maybe I hadn't. Obtuse.... So obtuse.... I'm so hopelessly obtuse.
At some point, I realised nobody was going to move on their own volition, and I just had to go ahead and do my thing regardless of what other people might think - maybe I'll have their support, maybe I won't; maybe they'll think better of me after this, maybe they'll not be appreciative at all. But I would still do this - for them. And I would not be held back by anyone - I would no longer be held back by myself. And you know what? It was liberating.
I don't care what you want. It's time for what I want. There, it's so much simpler now, yes?
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