Despite, the contract and labor law stating the maximum working hours being 44 per week, we were not told it was a 50 work hour week, alternate single-double weekend shifts, hence clocking a 11.5 hour shift daily inclusive of 1.5 hour break. When I questioned the human resource department, she then asked me in return if I was told during the interview (typical). Thus, we were only informed on the first day of work. Morning shifts ran from 0800-1930, while closing shifts ran from 1200-2330, with the usual expected delays. The goal of the programme is to train us to be store managers, in which the positions includes 13 hour work days, complete management of the store but however, minimal shop floor duties.

On the job training included the usual folding, cleaning, stock replanishment, fitting room duties, customer service etc. The first day of work was half spent on classroom training and the other half on the floor learning the initial ropes. On the second day, we were given closing shifts through to the fifth day with no rest day in between as we started work on a Wednesday.

A usual day at work:
Shopfloor duties – folding of clothing, checking of stock, maintaining tidiness by walking about area-in-charge, screaming “welcome to uniqlo” every 5 seconds, going on your knees to get sizes, maintaining smile. (I think I folded at least a thousand article in a night, no kidding)
Fitting room duties – guiding customers to the room, flipping shoes, going on your knees to pin alterations, dealing with sickening angmohs that NEVER cooperate, staying alert for shoplifters, refolding tried items. (I think I clocked 10miles just by pacing up the tiny fitting room bringing customers to their rooms)
Tidying upon closing duties – re-folding clothing and stacking them to standard (same width and size sticker to be in line) on your legs may I remind you.
& some other shit I didn’t stick around long enough to figure out.

By the time I get off work, my own two legs can barely get me home. When I actually got to my car, I could barely move, and broke down into tears from the exhuastion. By then I was losing sleep from the discomfort of my leg muscles, bruised knee caps, and loss of appetite from the depressing work day. I had not seen the world, and life had officially become a work-cry-sleep-work cycle.

By day 3, I tendered my resignation alongside 2 other trainees, with full intention to serve 2 weeks of notice. I was limping and was completely drained physically, so it was only a matter of how I mentally held up. Usual day of work, and another typical cry-myself-home-night.

You must be thinking now how spoilt or pampered I must be.

Day 4, Saturday, massive weekend crowd. I actually got down to speaking with the ‘retail associates’ or rather, salesperson, during my break. As in most companies in Singapore, majority of the full-time employees being foreigners. The store were mainly made up of foreign full-time staff earning five times what they can get back home, or part time local students working for extra pocket money. Even their senior staff were part time employees. And speaking to a senior full-time staff from the philipines, according to him, their turnover rate was exceptionally high, however, because most of them actually paid $6000 to come to Singapore, and thus, cannot afford to give up. By 9PM, I had done 3 hours of fitting room duty, probably burnt more calories than a 10-mile sprint (my heart of literally racing as if I had just finished a 2.4km jog), and usual shop floor duties. And eventually mentally cracked, broke down, and requested to quit with immediate effect and had no qualms about paying back the salary for notice period.

Note: In Japan, a worker is only allowed a maximum 8 hours of work a day. So how come that part of the japanese culture isn’t brought to Singapore but the greet-every-5-seconds is?

With such long hours at a physically exhuasting job, the company still expects top efficiency and customer service. Go figure.

Despite facing the troubles at work, I return home to the disappointed faces of my parents. With my dad telling me I’m exactly the kind of employee employers hate, having sign the contract and leaving, or how the next job is going to be equally tough and I’m child-like for crying everyday over a job, or with the attitude my next 10 jobs will probably me the same. If I had known I was putting my brains and mental health through hell for this shit, I would have never wasted my time.

Unlike part-timers, I joined the company with full intentions to stay long term and commit. Don’t get me wrong here, I strongly believe in starting from the ground despite qualifications. What I don’t agree with is how the company enforces such long working hours and yet still expect excellent performance. How does one achieve efficiency when one is not well rested? How does one offer a bright smile when they can barely hold themselves up? Despite the gruelling hours, we were only paid $2,700 gross with the exceptionally long working hours not disclosed until first day at work. And with the goal being to eventually become a store manager, working 13-14 hours a day, there was no way I was going to put myself through the insane course of training. If I’m in it, I’m in it to win it, or I’m out. No one will understand the challenge’s extreme difficulty until faced with it, and having unsupportive parents that think I’m just being a baby caused majority of my distress. From just the 4 days of standing, I am probably trained enough to work from Singapore to Malaysia.

If the company’s idea of profit making is to get cheap labor and work their brains out, what kind of loyalty is the company retaining from its staff? I question their values. The store was clearly under staffed from the messy racks and employees were pretty much worked to their tresholds. Don’t ask me why they could not simply hire more workers, lessen working hours, improve efficiency, in turn improving customer service followed up with greater sales. Cost efficient, really? Loyalty? Bite me.

So unless you’re up for the challenge, stay the fuck away.
This article is just my personal review of the experience.

The ageing process is real.
A night long of hammering, follows a day of incapcitation.
Blaring loud music no longer enticed me like it did before.
Soaring through the night streets, visions tunneling, unable to keep the focus straight.
When passing lights seem way too slow, the gauge speak otherwise.
I’ve found my new high.

Rest in peace.

What I don’t believe in, is the existence of a higher power.

When there’s food on my plate, I thank my parents who worked hard for it.
When I get good grades, I know I’ve earned them.
When I find myself in a ditch, I work my way through them.
When I fail, I question my capabilities.
When life’s taken a downward spiral, I question my decisions.
Through all the bastards that’ve screwed with me, I merely doubt my actions.
Never once, did I console myself that its what god wants. Fucking bullshit.

Hell yeah, jellyfish obsession.

Into the thirteenth week of my internship, key lesson learned: Obseleteness, my greatest fear.
I can do nothing for a day, a week. But not for a month, not two.

In a fucking, fucking awful mood.
Weird how I always wind up back here when I’m all blah.

It is unfair to say I don’t judge, I judge you based on how you judge people, not money, not brawns, not certifications.

What you possess, might just be the magnet for all the wrong things.

Niceness can be a major chactacter flaw.

Please tell me 11 dresses, 5 tops, 3 shirts in 2 weeks ain’t an addiction.

Before I get down to fucking every damn advert in the recruit papers, again,
thought I’d pen while the light heart is still sticking around.

I reckon mastering the wide angle can be pretty much redundant here on the red dot,
simply because it is near impossible to find a sky so wide, so clear enough to fit into the frame.
Some ship, some skyscraper, some flat, some cop car pulling up beside you and giving you a ticket for stopping by the road while you grab the shot of your life,
will always destroy you.
Time to pack and move photographers.

you’re looking at the southern tip of mainland asia

& you know how hearing a certain song from a far can pull up the memory folder from 7 years ago.
for me, its wearing a certain scent.
As the boat approaches the quater life dock, assuming here I live till a hundred,
I realise much of my earlier journey have been forgotten.
When I say forgotten, I don’t mean a name, an outfit, a place, or a person.
I mean the exact emotion – strong feeling – that ran right through me at that instant.
That to me, is remembering.

How much have you forgotten already?

Work dulls me, and thus, the lack of stuff you see going up on this creative space.

& I always thought the smoothest route would come off as the best,
little did I know the few pot holes around the bend would also do some added good.
While most countries embrace their high literacy rates,
demand and supply,
the rest of us, supply, suffers the downside of an excessive supply model.

Am I speaking in circles again?

2 years and counting,
perhaps its about time I wipe this pseudo-confidence off,
its resulted in nothing but an arrogant impression I’ve left with countless people.
No, I’m not, because after all these while I’m still that fat black smelly girl people mocked at,
whose hello kitty obsession is atrocious rather than adorable.
So smile at me the next time, for I will never muster up the courage to smile at you first, I try though.

Just one of my dad I had to dig out, you know how much I hate doing posts without a picture.
Note to self: I have got to pick up my camera again soon

It is better to be violent if there is violence in our hearts than to put on the cloak of non-violence to cover impotence.
Don’t you ever feel less than perfect.

People who judge outright disgust me,
but I hate the fact I lie for a perfect score.

Eighth week of this year, the horror.

When I say special,
I really mean special.
Not the random guy with the lexus, or the model’s ass you show off to your girlfriends.
Special special.

Dad’s sweet ride

No more booze please, my judgement’s poor enough as it is.

When your next free appointment date’s 2 weeks away.
When you’ve been feeding, breathing and crapping chemistry long enough.
I beg your pardon, car-my-street what?
When you walk around in daylight like a zombie due to the massive lack of sleep and have no complains about it.
When you’ve shopped the entire town home.
When you’ve not logged on to facebook for what seemed like a decade.
When you throw up your splendid dinner and forgot how you got home.
When 5 new pairs of shoes arrive at your door step.
When you get spanking new gold nails for christmas.

I must say shooting the same car is getting a lil boring.

p.s. I know I said I’d only be back after my conquest, forgive me, but the likelihood of that happening was almost zero.
Off for christmas in foreign land.

At war with my fat gene,
be back only after my conquest.

Yes, laugh at me for forgetting to remove the tripod from the hood for such an awesome shot.

Down and around town

My rage taught me several things.
One of which has often been put to use as of late – avoid trouble rather than confront them.
Always keeping in mind what its like when rage consumes me.

Being caught in the middle of 2 narrow-minded, yet to mature, manipulative and self-centered minds, detoured.
On the verge of slamming down the phone, onto the ground, on a late-comer, averted.
Forgiving, just hit the freeway.

p.s. Don’t make him your priority, when you’re only his option.

Just before the rain and haze ruined the much anticipated long weekend,
Sun down along West Coast.

my favourite shot, lucky though.

Beneath the pretty dresses, the expensive bags,
& the slabs of make-up, never letting anyone see the skin without foundation,
we’re all pretty much made up of the same stuff.

Just a year ago, I didn’t own a facebook account, and neither did I know what twitter was.
I simply did not see the need for the world to know I live amongst them.
But today, after several reads on self-improvement, seduction and power,
I wouldn’t deny social existence has now become my basic necessity,
in fact, its grown into a never satisfied hunger now.
Who gives a damn if you had a bad day, or repeatedly fucked your own life up,
well I don’t.
Guilty as charged!

On a smaller scale, this hunger that growls inside all of us,
attains satisfaction from the simple daily act of getting nods and thumbs ups for our and actions and opinions.
However, the silent nod may not always be one’s support,
the possibility of agreement backfiring into “just shut up already” must never be omitted.

I not only dislike what we’ve become, I actually down right hate it.
This is what we’re all leaving with, its sad, even when departure has not been scheduled.
As I quote Eleanor Roosevelt,
“Great minds discuss ideas. Average minds discuss events. Small minds discuss people.”

p.s. I drink my milk from the carton, I scratch my foot with a ruler, and I sometimes don’t brush my teeth or not shower for 3 days because I’m too lazy to.
Told you we’re all pretty much made up of the same stuff.