Profile
Age: 20
Current Status: N.e.e.t.
Birthday: 23th Dec'
May 2005
June 2005
July 2005
August 2005
September 2005
October 2005
November 2005
December 2005
February 2006
March 2006
May 2006
July 2006
September 2006
October 2006
December 2006
January 2007
March 2007
April 2007
May 2009
Links
Kenneth
Kai lun
Hanni
You guan
Anime Skies
Link
Talk.Now.Period.
Friday, December 22, 2006
The eve of the eve of christmas eve
The eve of the eve of christmas eve. It was a day spent wholly at work, a day I would not like to repeat. Work.
Work-1. Wrestling banglas for a spot on the bus.
2. Punching in the card the correct way.
3. Spend 7.30am-6.30pm doing endless work.(non-stop)
4. Hopefully getting a visit or msg frm a friend.
5. Falling asleep on the bus home.
I can't say I have really adapted to work. It's really more of a zhou yi bu kan yi bu routine for me (direct chinese translation of walk 1 step at a time and see how the future unfolds)
HR, being HR, is something like a publication unit, equipped with desirable environments and details that would mislead any potential job seeker into thinking that his/her allocation would be just as good as it is in HR.
By mislead, I mean that the rest of the place sucks.
The fhking banglas all like to eat snake. 1 day can receive at least 20 mcs. which i have to do data entry.
The diagnosis are often in the bangla's own handwriting.
And given their awesome understanding of english, fever can become feaver, feaves or fevar.
It is horrible.
It is 1 thing, howerver, to be able to interpret bangla's english and another altogether to read the doctor's handwriting.
Dealing with new terms such as the various terms of drugs, all 20 letters long and trying to interpret its full name from a line of (this is exactly what he wrote) ~~~~~~~~~.
Yes. He wrote gibberish.
How to read gibberish 101.
Then I found out I havent been punching in and out correctly, and had to write a timekeeping sheet to ensure my OT was recognised, involving more work. Sucks man.
When it is early morning, the situation is really like diarrhoea. You get a whole pile of diseased **** flowing into your environment.
Then today, the worst happened.
I fell asleep on the bus home. Found myself being the only 1,besides the bus driver, on the bus.
'No more stops.' I was frantic. Luckily i didn't sleep further than park oasis and i begged the bus driver to let me disembark at a bus stop.
Horrible. 30 minutes of walking to get home.
Just great.
I hate my job, I hate the possibility of working OT tmr.
Anytime BUT tmr. NO WAY I'm gonna do OT tmr.
Work-1. Wrestling banglas for a spot on the bus.
2. Punching in the card the correct way.
3. Spend 7.30am-6.30pm doing endless work.(non-stop)
4. Hopefully getting a visit or msg frm a friend.
5. Falling asleep on the bus home.
I can't say I have really adapted to work. It's really more of a zhou yi bu kan yi bu routine for me (direct chinese translation of walk 1 step at a time and see how the future unfolds)
HR, being HR, is something like a publication unit, equipped with desirable environments and details that would mislead any potential job seeker into thinking that his/her allocation would be just as good as it is in HR.
By mislead, I mean that the rest of the place sucks.
The fhking banglas all like to eat snake. 1 day can receive at least 20 mcs. which i have to do data entry.
The diagnosis are often in the bangla's own handwriting.
And given their awesome understanding of english, fever can become feaver, feaves or fevar.
It is horrible.
It is 1 thing, howerver, to be able to interpret bangla's english and another altogether to read the doctor's handwriting.
Dealing with new terms such as the various terms of drugs, all 20 letters long and trying to interpret its full name from a line of (this is exactly what he wrote) ~~~~~~~~~.
Yes. He wrote gibberish.
How to read gibberish 101.
Then I found out I havent been punching in and out correctly, and had to write a timekeeping sheet to ensure my OT was recognised, involving more work. Sucks man.
When it is early morning, the situation is really like diarrhoea. You get a whole pile of diseased **** flowing into your environment.
Then today, the worst happened.
I fell asleep on the bus home. Found myself being the only 1,besides the bus driver, on the bus.
'No more stops.' I was frantic. Luckily i didn't sleep further than park oasis and i begged the bus driver to let me disembark at a bus stop.
Horrible. 30 minutes of walking to get home.
Just great.
I hate my job, I hate the possibility of working OT tmr.
Anytime BUT tmr. NO WAY I'm gonna do OT tmr.
Monday, December 18, 2006
The First Day
They say you meet all kinds of people when you go out into the real world. I thought they were joking. They weren't.
Today.....sucked.
Getting up at 5.30am sucked.
It was the first day of work.
And I almost missed the bus.
I was asked a chinese national if he was waiting for the comapny bus at the taxi stand.
He said 'no, this is where the taxis stops, the buses are over there, by the bustop'
As i turned to the bustop, I saw him shuffling towards a bus that had stopped at the taxi stand. It was the comapny bus.
ZZZZZZZZZzzzzzZZZzzZz.
Reaching the compound 40 mins b4 the workday was scheduled to begin wasn't too bad, except I had no where to go.
I spent 40 minutes in HR slacking, as ppl came and gone, until Grace came in.
She ushered me into a room which I found my contract, the soul binding deathtrap, as i found out soon into the workday.
Signed.
It was as YY had said.
With angel wings, they usher you to hell, under the guise of loving and care, but bluntly put, a stab in the back.
ouch.
Medical center was nothing like an office.
It was, in a nutshell, a desk, a doctor, a dispenser and me.
There was only 1 computer, 1 chair, and 2 proficient tamil/malay/chinese speakers.
I wonder if they taught that in med school.
It was 8am.
The centre was crowded as hell.
Grace was afraid of going back to HR alone and so Melissa tagged along.
Good bye HR. Hello hell.
It was worse than YY's office.
That I was sure.
Because, well, instead of banglas, I get sick banglas, sick chinese, sick, malay and sick foreigners.
All well within germ-spreading distance.
GREAT.
The first job was relatively easy.
Type a number and print.
Easy as pie.
Then came dispensing medicine.
The fun part.
People's lives were in my hand, 1 wrong type of mediciation and it wud all be game over for them. I was playing god, i was playing devil, I was helping to stop overpopulation.
Then came, the weird cases.
If your imagination is really good, imagine being me, seated 2 meters away from a doctor asking a female worker, old enough to be his mother, to urinate into a small bottle.
Coaxing her, pleading with her.
You get the picture.
5 minutes later she returns, having triumphed over her infertile bladder and producing enough urine to be actually significant. And the doctor grabs the bottle, touches a file, and passes the file to me, all in 1 motion.
Lovely germs, really.
I expect to get sick in abt 3 days. or less.
apparently I was assigned there urgently because the previous contract worker there quitted suddenly.(GEEZ, I WONDER WHY.)
I heard a rumour about her quitting because she didn't want to contract chicken pox.
'Nonsense!' the doctor says. But heres a man that spent most of 2 hours applying cream on a worker's highly 'clean' feet.
When you work long enough you become immune. I'm afraid I might not have sufficient time to adapt.
Which brings me to case number 2.
Fancy this. A worker, around 10 years my senior, catching chicken pox.
There.
And then there was the blood in stool, classified as per-rectal bleeding.
Shipyard work is tough.
By lunchtime I was still quite hyped up.
Then. They locked the clinic doors.
No traffic in, or out.
Lovely.
As the rest retreated into a room wif poster-girls-wearing-almost-nothing wallpaper for some R & R during lunch, I stay outside behind my desk, pondering what to do.
Jokes were the only way out.
Thank goodness for yahoo.
And they taught me a very interesting and practical hierarchy.
Obviously, since MY (mainyard) workers had to leave the premises early, they were given priority, followed by normal. But then a boss called.
THE CHAIRMAN.
Not enough medication for chairman. 'Nvm, lets take the medication from the MY workers'
And thus 1 mainyard worker left wif inaqequate medicine, he might die, for all i know.
Then came the torture, the real reason why I don't like working there.
Number 1: No place to relieve boredom.
Number 2: No place to relieve workload.
Number 3: Too much workload and too much boredom.
In the afternoon I had to do data entry.
Never mind that I didn't know what and how to spell the illnesses.( there was a small dictionary on the desk detailing everything from cellulitis to masturbation.(The definitions)
All i had to do was enter the correct terms.
But I wasn't born to be a code breaker.
The doctor, like all doctors, employ a type of handwriting highly similar to jason chua's handwriting.
Illegible Handwriting bearing a striking resemblance to wingdings.
Of course, my brain is not armed with a decoder.
For every entry I had to ask them, making me feel worse, and worse.....
I was glad 4.30pm reached when it did.
And then they asked me.
' Wanna work overtime?'
Today.....sucked.
Getting up at 5.30am sucked.
It was the first day of work.
And I almost missed the bus.
I was asked a chinese national if he was waiting for the comapny bus at the taxi stand.
He said 'no, this is where the taxis stops, the buses are over there, by the bustop'
As i turned to the bustop, I saw him shuffling towards a bus that had stopped at the taxi stand. It was the comapny bus.
ZZZZZZZZZzzzzzZZZzzZz.
Reaching the compound 40 mins b4 the workday was scheduled to begin wasn't too bad, except I had no where to go.
I spent 40 minutes in HR slacking, as ppl came and gone, until Grace came in.
She ushered me into a room which I found my contract, the soul binding deathtrap, as i found out soon into the workday.
Signed.
It was as YY had said.
With angel wings, they usher you to hell, under the guise of loving and care, but bluntly put, a stab in the back.
ouch.
Medical center was nothing like an office.
It was, in a nutshell, a desk, a doctor, a dispenser and me.
There was only 1 computer, 1 chair, and 2 proficient tamil/malay/chinese speakers.
I wonder if they taught that in med school.
It was 8am.
The centre was crowded as hell.
Grace was afraid of going back to HR alone and so Melissa tagged along.
Good bye HR. Hello hell.
It was worse than YY's office.
That I was sure.
Because, well, instead of banglas, I get sick banglas, sick chinese, sick, malay and sick foreigners.
All well within germ-spreading distance.
GREAT.
The first job was relatively easy.
Type a number and print.
Easy as pie.
Then came dispensing medicine.
The fun part.
People's lives were in my hand, 1 wrong type of mediciation and it wud all be game over for them. I was playing god, i was playing devil, I was helping to stop overpopulation.
Then came, the weird cases.
If your imagination is really good, imagine being me, seated 2 meters away from a doctor asking a female worker, old enough to be his mother, to urinate into a small bottle.
Coaxing her, pleading with her.
You get the picture.
5 minutes later she returns, having triumphed over her infertile bladder and producing enough urine to be actually significant. And the doctor grabs the bottle, touches a file, and passes the file to me, all in 1 motion.
Lovely germs, really.
I expect to get sick in abt 3 days. or less.
apparently I was assigned there urgently because the previous contract worker there quitted suddenly.(GEEZ, I WONDER WHY.)
I heard a rumour about her quitting because she didn't want to contract chicken pox.
'Nonsense!' the doctor says. But heres a man that spent most of 2 hours applying cream on a worker's highly 'clean' feet.
When you work long enough you become immune. I'm afraid I might not have sufficient time to adapt.
Which brings me to case number 2.
Fancy this. A worker, around 10 years my senior, catching chicken pox.
There.
And then there was the blood in stool, classified as per-rectal bleeding.
Shipyard work is tough.
By lunchtime I was still quite hyped up.
Then. They locked the clinic doors.
No traffic in, or out.
Lovely.
As the rest retreated into a room wif poster-girls-wearing-almost-nothing wallpaper for some R & R during lunch, I stay outside behind my desk, pondering what to do.
Jokes were the only way out.
Thank goodness for yahoo.
And they taught me a very interesting and practical hierarchy.
Obviously, since MY (mainyard) workers had to leave the premises early, they were given priority, followed by normal. But then a boss called.
THE CHAIRMAN.
Not enough medication for chairman. 'Nvm, lets take the medication from the MY workers'
And thus 1 mainyard worker left wif inaqequate medicine, he might die, for all i know.
Then came the torture, the real reason why I don't like working there.
Number 1: No place to relieve boredom.
Number 2: No place to relieve workload.
Number 3: Too much workload and too much boredom.
In the afternoon I had to do data entry.
Never mind that I didn't know what and how to spell the illnesses.( there was a small dictionary on the desk detailing everything from cellulitis to masturbation.(The definitions)
All i had to do was enter the correct terms.
But I wasn't born to be a code breaker.
The doctor, like all doctors, employ a type of handwriting highly similar to jason chua's handwriting.
Illegible Handwriting bearing a striking resemblance to wingdings.
Of course, my brain is not armed with a decoder.
For every entry I had to ask them, making me feel worse, and worse.....
I was glad 4.30pm reached when it did.
And then they asked me.
' Wanna work overtime?'