Little Red Riding Shoes

April 5, 2010 at 3:20 pm (Blanks and Postages)

The hours seem long and gravity insanely persistent. Anybody who’s been there would tell you how out-of-this-world the experience is; your first week on any job that requires full-time on your feet. The train home is pretty packed but I manage to grab a seat, before I proceed to put on a headphone, and Homer Simpson my brain away. A stop afterwards though, a more mature lady hops on, and the conscience department begins a nagging round of ‘buts’ with the equally hysterical lower body hemoglobin pipes.

So I take off my earpiece in respect and offer my oasis.

Let the balancing game begin.

While I’m adjusting my person, the passenger who was sitting across me beforehand inquires, ”You Indonesian?”

I ask her how she knows.

“I remember the written sound of your name from the IELTS test two weeks ago, I was one of the invigilators.”

And so a train (pardon the pun) of conversations starts running. Turns out she’s:

– Residing somewhere around the area that I live in

– Getting married in less than a month

– Unfortunately not quite sure about the identity of that other super-cute-dreamy-eyed Mr. Invigilator

I have to get off the train a station sooner and bid her a cheery goodbye.

The conscience quickly starts its speech on the pleasant rewards of smug morality. See what it does to the mind? The body takes a minute in retrospect before replying with a Cheshire grin; see what it DOES to the mind?

Conscience screeches to a halt in mild alarm.

You see, all that standing up and stuff means less cell spinach can be delivered to the brain; yep, all those precious 30 minutes worth of pumping awesome oxygen goodness. I remember saying a word about looking Miss Invigilator up on Facebook later on. Now, now, how is she supposed to do that, oh great Mister Conscience Sir, if she can’t even remember the subject’s name?   

 

So there it stands, the conscience hanging its hypothetical head in hypothetical shame.

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Baby Shoes

January 8, 2009 at 2:41 pm (Blanks and Postages)

So I took a seat at a bench in front of the Town Hall, consulted my mobile phone for the time, and proceeded to grab the items I stored at my little plastic bag. I slipped off the black flats I had been wearing and directed my feet towards the black heels I was carrying. All the while, I realised something rather amusing was happening a couple of feet – pardon the pun – nearby.

The lady sitting on the other end of the bench was doing the exact same thing. Albeit of the same exact variation of the opposite.

“Did you notice that I was taking off my heels and slipping into my flats while you’re taking off your flats and putting on your heels?” asked the red-haired, artsy-looking lady.

“Yes I did,” I answered, “How cute is that? Totally love the heels by the way,” and I pointed at her super pretty gladiatoresque shoes.

“Yea, they are great, aren’t they? They’re like my favourite!”

“I can see that, so what’s wrong? The shoes hurting?”

“Ah, not really. They’re really comfortable. I usually walk around a lot in them. It’s just that it’s a hot day and my feet swell on hot days. Yea.”

“Ow, okay…” I nodded in polite wonder. Those heels WERE crazy tall. I wouldn’t bear wearing that for more than 20 minutes max. Cold weather or no.

“So why are you changing your shoes yourself?

“Oh, I’ve got an interview today.” She asked where, “At a hotel. Just around the corner there.”

“How cool is that! And smart choice though, with the shoes and all.”

“I know right?” I rose up when the friend who gave the recommendation to that interview arrived, “Gotta go now, nice meeting you.”

“Good luck there! All the best! Hope you get the job!” 

It went well. And I switched back to my flats afterwards at the exact same bench I was sitting on earlier.

Got the job.

 

“I’d suggest that you wear flat shoes as well. It’s gonna be difficult standing long-hours wearing heels as a receptionist.” Such was the friendly reminder the interviewer gave after he informed me that I was accepted for the gig.

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Hello world!

November 30, 2008 at 1:32 pm (Uncategorized)

Welcome to WordPress.com. This is your first post. Edit or delete it and start blogging!

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