thursdays are made of these
me: ans, what time is it?
ana: uh.. (checks her fone)
ana: err.. 2pm..
me: oh god. oh god... OHHHH GOD!
it was a thursday. it was a weekday. oh, and i remembered i had work. i had a meeting in an hour, supposedly two applicant interviews to complete for the day which i had to finish before i rush to the jobsite at 6 (that leaves me only a remaining 4 hours to complete it all). now at any normal day it would've been easy, i'm used to doing things under pressure. but on a day when you've just gotten home past 5am, wasted more than half the day dozing off, woken up to a serious hang-over and a bad stomach-- it was a triathlon for the handicapped.
here goes my fighting spirit. i jumped off the bed (like some major bed bug bit me in the ass), cursing myself as i put on my bright blue sequined zara t-shirt, washed out jeans and matching blue havaiannas (how can i forget to bring work clothes with me? i shouldve known this would happen). i called for a cab and headed to rockwell, and as i arrived in my oh so-fashionably-trashed ensemble, un-showered, unwashed-greasy-hair with no make-up (thank god for bug-eyed glasses!), my officemates didn't know wether to be upset with me for being late or pitty me for looking like something died-- i prefered the latter. saying i looked like shit would be an understatement.
Plan A: act like something terrible happened.
like an accident, or that i stayed up all night with a dying friend. so as i walked my way to starbuck's glassed doors, i headed to our lil 'judgement' coffee table.. and like the perennial liar and the good actor that i am, i started psyching myself on my big scene-- try to look as sad, helpless, and pitiful as possible. crying would be a good thing right now-- think sad thoughts. in my head it was all in slow motion (this might be due to my hangover)... i came over ever so slowly trying hard not to make eye contact, determined to look like the poor victim of sorts, rehearsing my first lines in my head.. and just as expected, as soon as i sat down somebody asked--
"what happened to you..."
i let out a dramatic sigh (for effect) as i slowly glanced accross the table... my boss motioned for me to take my huge sunglasses off (i hate it when he does that, he knows i can't look him straight in the eye when i'm lying!) so i did. but just before i could say a word...
"you went to embassy last night! "
i go-- "huh?" act innocent not deaf. act innocent dammit.
this nosy bitch beside me gave me a wry smile. she said it so loud you'd think she was a barrista handing out a latte to somebody named embassy.
Plan B: go hysterical and cry.
most people don't know how to react when this happens. and before they even get to prod they'll feel sorry for accussing me of clubbing on a week night and coming to a management meeting so late.. like im that irresponsible?? good plan. but before i could execute plan b (a.k.a desperate measures), she pointed at my right wrist...
F*&K!!! there it was, mocking me... i still had the club's logo stamped on my wrist!
great. not only was i clearly proven irresponsible and unprofessional infront of my boss and 4 other people i work with.. now they all know i haven't taken a bath!
and then, i was really about to cry.
ana: uh.. (checks her fone)
ana: err.. 2pm..
me: oh god. oh god... OHHHH GOD!
it was a thursday. it was a weekday. oh, and i remembered i had work. i had a meeting in an hour, supposedly two applicant interviews to complete for the day which i had to finish before i rush to the jobsite at 6 (that leaves me only a remaining 4 hours to complete it all). now at any normal day it would've been easy, i'm used to doing things under pressure. but on a day when you've just gotten home past 5am, wasted more than half the day dozing off, woken up to a serious hang-over and a bad stomach-- it was a triathlon for the handicapped.here goes my fighting spirit. i jumped off the bed (like some major bed bug bit me in the ass), cursing myself as i put on my bright blue sequined zara t-shirt, washed out jeans and matching blue havaiannas (how can i forget to bring work clothes with me? i shouldve known this would happen). i called for a cab and headed to rockwell, and as i arrived in my oh so-fashionably-trashed ensemble, un-showered, unwashed-greasy-hair with no make-up (thank god for bug-eyed glasses!), my officemates didn't know wether to be upset with me for being late or pitty me for looking like something died-- i prefered the latter. saying i looked like shit would be an understatement.
Plan A: act like something terrible happened.
like an accident, or that i stayed up all night with a dying friend. so as i walked my way to starbuck's glassed doors, i headed to our lil 'judgement' coffee table.. and like the perennial liar and the good actor that i am, i started psyching myself on my big scene-- try to look as sad, helpless, and pitiful as possible. crying would be a good thing right now-- think sad thoughts. in my head it was all in slow motion (this might be due to my hangover)... i came over ever so slowly trying hard not to make eye contact, determined to look like the poor victim of sorts, rehearsing my first lines in my head.. and just as expected, as soon as i sat down somebody asked--
"what happened to you..."
i let out a dramatic sigh (for effect) as i slowly glanced accross the table... my boss motioned for me to take my huge sunglasses off (i hate it when he does that, he knows i can't look him straight in the eye when i'm lying!) so i did. but just before i could say a word...
"you went to embassy last night! "
i go-- "huh?" act innocent not deaf. act innocent dammit.
this nosy bitch beside me gave me a wry smile. she said it so loud you'd think she was a barrista handing out a latte to somebody named embassy.
Plan B: go hysterical and cry.
most people don't know how to react when this happens. and before they even get to prod they'll feel sorry for accussing me of clubbing on a week night and coming to a management meeting so late.. like im that irresponsible?? good plan. but before i could execute plan b (a.k.a desperate measures), she pointed at my right wrist...
F*&K!!! there it was, mocking me... i still had the club's logo stamped on my wrist!
great. not only was i clearly proven irresponsible and unprofessional infront of my boss and 4 other people i work with.. now they all know i haven't taken a bath!
and then, i was really about to cry.
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