big storeroom

The best way to lose enough weight is to stop eating. And the best way to stop eating is to be broke enough and not be able to afford a proper meal. Then why the hell am I torturing myself working under some dumbbell for money? A dumbbell who gets "confiscated" when there are too many stocks for her to check. A dumbbell who points to her hurting knees and complains that her "elbows" are in pain. A dumbbell who calls me and a colleague over and says she wants to talk to both of "them". Approximately 6 hours ago, I was lectured by DumbBell because I came back late from my dinner break. And for cheating on my punch-card. Ha ha. Making her angry is funny and seeing her incensed makes me happy. I don't see myself as a trouble-maker. In fact, I deem myself as a dilligent and industrious employee to any employer. It's always the fact that nobody sees you when you're working hard but you get caught the moment you lapse. So go ahead and scold me DumbBell cos I don't give a shit what you think about me. Not even a fart. And all you self-important and haughty bitches who come in the form of customers, go ahead and mess up every single piece of garment you see in the shop. Try all the pieces in every single size and color. Throw all the clothes on the floor in the fitting room and reckon we enjoy picking them up after you. Go ahead and keep your noses up in the air. Cos I don't give a shit. Not even a fart, you hear me?

This afternoon, a lady in her 40s dropped the red sequinned-dress she was holding and signals me to pick it up for her. I took the stapler from the counter and stapled the dress to her palm. It makes me happy.




No. I didn't really do that. It's just one of the many scenarios I play in my head everyday while I'm at work.