Stars for Your Bucks
If I had a dollar for every time someone told me to get a job, I wouldn’t need to get one. I would be rich. Richard Branson, eat your Virgin heart out.
But I don’t, have a dollar. Not for everytime someone told me to get a job, at least.
I always said I wouldn’t mind a part-time job as long as it involved flexible hours (i.e. as little hours a week as possible) and didn’t involve working in retail (which I did, for awhile, and spent 10 hours a day poking my eyes out with a clothes hanger) or in Food & Beverage, especially not McDonalds and any sort of fast-food joint where there are more grease particles in the air than oxygen or overpriced coffee outlets (Starbucks, my friend, you are guilty – average price of coffee at Starbucks: RM 10, average price of coffee at local mamak stall: RM 1.50, paying with someone else’s hard earned money: priceless, like the Visa ad).
But now that I think of it, in the hopeless state I’m currently in; working at Starbucks is not beneath me. Working at McDonalds is not beneath me. Working is not beneath me. Whatever made me think so in the first place deserves a giant reality kick in the ass.
Note to self: John Lennon is an asshole. Love is not all you need. You cannot live on love alone but you can try if your life was brimming full with love. But it isn’t. John Lennon is an asshole but at least he was an asshole with money. You were never one of the Beatles. You have no Yoko Ono. No Yoko Ono. Cool band name.
“I hope that my love of dreaming does not take away from my reality of being” – J.D. “Mr Quotable” Fortune.
Licking dirt by the roadside is not beneath me.
Besides, I live by the saying: You should always lick everything at least once.
But I would make a terrible employee. This is not me being self deprecating. This is me being honest. Sometimes, when the moon is just right, I do say things I mean.
This is how I would be like in a job interview, if I were to be honest:
Interviewer : Why do you want this job?
Me: I don’t.
Interviewer: Then why are you here?
Me : God sent me.
Interviewer: Really?
Me: No, who do you think I am? Joan of Arc? Although I did act as her in a school play
once. It was terrible. My costume looked more like that of a Jedi in Star Wars. I felt
like I was trying to liberate France from Darth Vader. At church, the Priest told me
to: “Use the force.” While rehearsing Joan’s burning at the cross scene, I yelled out
“If you strike me down now, I shall come back more powerful than before.” It was
an Obi Wan Kenobi moment.. Oh, and we had these little thin cardboard swords /
lightsabers that kept flopping about – instead of stabbing someone to death, the best
you could do with those swords was to give someone one nasty papercut. Imagine
the news: Retreat ordered. Battalion suffers multiple papercuts.
Interviewer: Really?
Me : No, not really, I was exaggerating. The teachers did make a big fuss though about a
Muslim girl playing a Christian saint, which I found ridiculous. The play had little
to do with religion – it was about history. It was about passion. It was about finding
your purpose in life, finding the goddamn, or should I say in Joan’s case, the god-
blessed motivation to do something. Fight for what you believe in. Liberate your
country. Get burned at the stake alive for it. It was about having to be
halfway out of your mind to achieve greatness. It was about female empowerment
and how people love to set fire to empowered women. Burn her first, love her later.
Hoorah!
Interviewer : How did that play inspire you?
Me : Not much although once, I did nearly set fire to my hair while trying to light
my cigarette on the gas stove. God stole my lighter.
Interviewer : Acting aside, have you had any other previous work experience?
Me : Well, I once carried a really heavy TV up a floor. Oh, and I worked for three
months in fashion retail but I have to tell you, I’m better at selling my soul and
at selling out than at selling pretty dresses. I also worked for a day, ushering
really rich bank customers to their table at a business networking luncheon. I must
say, very rich folks have poor memory, seeing that I had to tell each guest their table
number about a 100 times. And some of them have funny names. There was one
guy on the guest list that went by the name of Steed. But he never showed up. I guess,
Steed’s trusty steed isn’t so trusty after all.
Interviewer : What can you bring to this job and our company?
Me : Err…… my heart? Full of bitterness and disgruntlement. And bananas. Lots
of solar dried bananas. It’s my dad’s new business venture. He won’t give me
money but he will give me a box full of bananas. I don’t like bananas.
Interviewer : Any special skills?
Me : Yes, several. I can function on freakishly little sleep. And I can always put up an
excellent fake smile. It’s so good, people can always tell it’s fake. Oh, and I can
snort copious amounts of pepper, chili sauce and carbonated drinks up my nose
without shedding a tear. Really. Wanna see?
Interviewer: Err…no, we’re not that kind of company. Moving on, what are some of
your flaws?
Me : Is this a trick question? I mean, are you stupid enough to have to ask? Are you
blind or simply spaced out? What are you on to be this spaced out? Can I have
some?
Interviewer : No. It’s a company secret. Now, would you like to tell me what you expect
to gain from this job?
Me : Err…weight? Everything makes me gain weight. I can easily gain weight and keep
it on. In the case of famine, I can easily outlast you high metabolic rate fuckers. Put
that under my special skill. Also, some money. Minimum wage money.
Interviewer : Is money important to you?
Me : No, not when I have lots of it. Which is never.
Interviewer : So you would say that money is an important motivating factor for you?
Me : Where did you get that idea? No.
Interviewer : Where do you see yourself in 10 years time?
Me : Honey, if I could see the future, I would be a bookie and wouldn’t be needing this
stupid job.
Interviewer : One last question, what the hell is wrong with you?
Me : If I had a dollar for everytime someone asked me that, I would be rich and wouldn’t
be needing this stupid job.
Interviewer : Thank you, we’ll be in touch.
Me : Ok, but where will you be touching me? I’m ticklish.
Interviewer : You’re fired. Security!!!!!!!!!!!!
Me : How can I be fired before I’m hired?
Interviewer : Ok. You’re hired.
Me : You had me at ‘hello’, you had me at ‘ hello’.
But I don’t, have a dollar. Not for everytime someone told me to get a job, at least.
I always said I wouldn’t mind a part-time job as long as it involved flexible hours (i.e. as little hours a week as possible) and didn’t involve working in retail (which I did, for awhile, and spent 10 hours a day poking my eyes out with a clothes hanger) or in Food & Beverage, especially not McDonalds and any sort of fast-food joint where there are more grease particles in the air than oxygen or overpriced coffee outlets (Starbucks, my friend, you are guilty – average price of coffee at Starbucks: RM 10, average price of coffee at local mamak stall: RM 1.50, paying with someone else’s hard earned money: priceless, like the Visa ad).
But now that I think of it, in the hopeless state I’m currently in; working at Starbucks is not beneath me. Working at McDonalds is not beneath me. Working is not beneath me. Whatever made me think so in the first place deserves a giant reality kick in the ass.
Note to self: John Lennon is an asshole. Love is not all you need. You cannot live on love alone but you can try if your life was brimming full with love. But it isn’t. John Lennon is an asshole but at least he was an asshole with money. You were never one of the Beatles. You have no Yoko Ono. No Yoko Ono. Cool band name.
“I hope that my love of dreaming does not take away from my reality of being” – J.D. “Mr Quotable” Fortune.
Licking dirt by the roadside is not beneath me.
Besides, I live by the saying: You should always lick everything at least once.
But I would make a terrible employee. This is not me being self deprecating. This is me being honest. Sometimes, when the moon is just right, I do say things I mean.
This is how I would be like in a job interview, if I were to be honest:
Interviewer : Why do you want this job?
Me: I don’t.
Interviewer: Then why are you here?
Me : God sent me.
Interviewer: Really?
Me: No, who do you think I am? Joan of Arc? Although I did act as her in a school play
once. It was terrible. My costume looked more like that of a Jedi in Star Wars. I felt
like I was trying to liberate France from Darth Vader. At church, the Priest told me
to: “Use the force.” While rehearsing Joan’s burning at the cross scene, I yelled out
“If you strike me down now, I shall come back more powerful than before.” It was
an Obi Wan Kenobi moment.. Oh, and we had these little thin cardboard swords /
lightsabers that kept flopping about – instead of stabbing someone to death, the best
you could do with those swords was to give someone one nasty papercut. Imagine
the news: Retreat ordered. Battalion suffers multiple papercuts.
Interviewer: Really?
Me : No, not really, I was exaggerating. The teachers did make a big fuss though about a
Muslim girl playing a Christian saint, which I found ridiculous. The play had little
to do with religion – it was about history. It was about passion. It was about finding
your purpose in life, finding the goddamn, or should I say in Joan’s case, the god-
blessed motivation to do something. Fight for what you believe in. Liberate your
country. Get burned at the stake alive for it. It was about having to be
halfway out of your mind to achieve greatness. It was about female empowerment
and how people love to set fire to empowered women. Burn her first, love her later.
Hoorah!
Interviewer : How did that play inspire you?
Me : Not much although once, I did nearly set fire to my hair while trying to light
my cigarette on the gas stove. God stole my lighter.
Interviewer : Acting aside, have you had any other previous work experience?
Me : Well, I once carried a really heavy TV up a floor. Oh, and I worked for three
months in fashion retail but I have to tell you, I’m better at selling my soul and
at selling out than at selling pretty dresses. I also worked for a day, ushering
really rich bank customers to their table at a business networking luncheon. I must
say, very rich folks have poor memory, seeing that I had to tell each guest their table
number about a 100 times. And some of them have funny names. There was one
guy on the guest list that went by the name of Steed. But he never showed up. I guess,
Steed’s trusty steed isn’t so trusty after all.
Interviewer : What can you bring to this job and our company?
Me : Err…… my heart? Full of bitterness and disgruntlement. And bananas. Lots
of solar dried bananas. It’s my dad’s new business venture. He won’t give me
money but he will give me a box full of bananas. I don’t like bananas.
Interviewer : Any special skills?
Me : Yes, several. I can function on freakishly little sleep. And I can always put up an
excellent fake smile. It’s so good, people can always tell it’s fake. Oh, and I can
snort copious amounts of pepper, chili sauce and carbonated drinks up my nose
without shedding a tear. Really. Wanna see?
Interviewer: Err…no, we’re not that kind of company. Moving on, what are some of
your flaws?
Me : Is this a trick question? I mean, are you stupid enough to have to ask? Are you
blind or simply spaced out? What are you on to be this spaced out? Can I have
some?
Interviewer : No. It’s a company secret. Now, would you like to tell me what you expect
to gain from this job?
Me : Err…weight? Everything makes me gain weight. I can easily gain weight and keep
it on. In the case of famine, I can easily outlast you high metabolic rate fuckers. Put
that under my special skill. Also, some money. Minimum wage money.
Interviewer : Is money important to you?
Me : No, not when I have lots of it. Which is never.
Interviewer : So you would say that money is an important motivating factor for you?
Me : Where did you get that idea? No.
Interviewer : Where do you see yourself in 10 years time?
Me : Honey, if I could see the future, I would be a bookie and wouldn’t be needing this
stupid job.
Interviewer : One last question, what the hell is wrong with you?
Me : If I had a dollar for everytime someone asked me that, I would be rich and wouldn’t
be needing this stupid job.
Interviewer : Thank you, we’ll be in touch.
Me : Ok, but where will you be touching me? I’m ticklish.
Interviewer : You’re fired. Security!!!!!!!!!!!!
Me : How can I be fired before I’m hired?
Interviewer : Ok. You’re hired.
Me : You had me at ‘hello’, you had me at ‘ hello’.
