GIRLS……………. EXTREMELY LOUSY BUSINESS PARTNERS!

Have you ever sat down and creatively come up with a way to earn extra money on the side? Kind of like how Bill Gates, in his boring years, would just have thoughts of microsoft and computers and stuff, or like how Donald Trump would just, over a cup of cappucino(white man’s yuckily bitter but pretty looking coffee-like thigi), decide to erect abuilding with his name on it, or like how Abid, due to failure to get employment years after graduation, and over a pot of boiled cassava, jut came up with the workzine? well i have.
It all started when i realised that my salary, pocket money, handbag money, wallet money, bra money, socks money, money for upkeep, hair allowance, airtime money, just to mention but a few, were just not going to cut it. I decided to explore other areas from which i can generate income. With my hardworking self, i must say i really tried. I worked so hard but the jobs only paid in kind, and not hard cash. (Dont think what i think your thinking! In kind i mean like i got expensive dinners, attended cool parties, hardly benched for friends for rides after a night out, and the list goes on.) I had worked hard at getting to know the great spenders, but these were people who did not find joy in putting money in your hands. They instead prided themselves on being great purchasers. ( I must explain again that this was all on a business level! To further break it down, i started partying with my boss on a totally business level. Let me go ahead and mention that that was my former boss. The one i have now is way above the partying level.)
Anyway the point is i was fed up. I therefore decided to get someone, who these people that i hang with would have no problem giving money, and with that, i’d also get paid. I typed out contracts and went in search of my hot friends. Many i had thrown out, because every girl wants to hang around people who look worse than her so that she always looks the best, but this time, i had to put something before me. I couldnt live life thinking about me, me, me,me! It was money’s turn and i was going to sacrifice for him. Thats what real true honest friends are for. So i call up this friend of mine and decide to take hoer out for an evening drink and catch up. I knew by the time we were done, my ‘crew’ would be ready to pick me up, and she would definately have to come with us. So, yeah. It all went as planned. They picked us up in the convoy (i swear it was a convoy of range rovers and one out of place dodge nitro), and off we went, first for the usual, an indian dinner, then for the real thing. The night went on well, and, just as you guessed, my friend and the richest in the pack started something. I was happy. Finally hings were falling in place.
Three days later, she calls to tell me about her happiness and blah blah blah. She kept saying, i dont know if i will get money, but when i do, ill let you know. Im like, its all good. Meanwhile im here telling the rich dude…. hmm chik likes you. But my friend, you better tight mark your territory. If you dont spend on her, she will find someone who will.
Now the problem is here. He was totally taking my advise, but not telling me, and my friend was not telling me either. So kweganba i was losing out. Business wasnt going as well as i hoped it would, and i kept thinking my tounge was not convincing enough.
Then one fateful day, i met her. She was at standard chattered bank with another friend of ours, going to open an account. Im like, eh! Ok! You must have had a really long shopping list this semester. I was almost believing myself when our friend blurts out…. ‘hmmmm, ur still on your parents’ shopping dimes? This one here has a walking bank. Not even an atm. Those ones have limits. he is an open cheque!’
At that point i internally lost it. I could hear my spirit (the invisible me) screaming, and it was almost getting physical up in there. If i had waited just 10 more minutes, i wouldnt know myself. There i was bursting my arse off everyday trying to convince mr. money to spend and yet he was doing even more than that.
Since this is a pg read, allow tme to cut the long story short because i have not found a way to poitely tell waht happens in between.
Two days later she takes me out for a burger. It was saturday actually, and did i mention, the burger came at half price…….
To conclude.. thats what you get for sharing business with girls!

the boss is back!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The boss is back.
He said he would return on the first day of the week, and that would mean report to office on the second day of the week. It doesnt need rocket science to figure that out. What needs it, however is what people use to determine the first day of the week.
Now forgive me for believing that on the last day, God rested. The sabbath. A sunday. Could have been a saturday, but im almost sure my boss is not a seventh day adventist, nor is he a Jew. Monday thus marks the beginning of the week, making it, the FIRST day.
Now someone please try telling me why the Boss is back?
You can imagine my shock, trauma and escalation of the heart beat all at the same time, when i look at my phone and it is none other than my boss calling. I would have gladly picked up had it been his mobile number, because these days, aparently one can keep the same number when they cross roads and railways, considering he went by bus. But no. I wasnt even respected enough to be shocked on phone. The shock had to come before that. Hmmmmm. Stupid office landlines.
So now what is a girl to do? I cant ignore the call because eventually, he will get angry enough to draft my resignation letter, and force me to accept it as my idea. ( Like how the presidents of those developed countries in Jack Bauer fire their Chief of Staff). I thus ask thee once again. What is a girl to do?
I could tell the truth, which is that i am stuck in traffic jam.
Thing is, my boss left for someplace on Wednesday, saying he would be back at the beginning of the following week. You know when the boss is out, only the wierdos go to work, unless there is this really annoying wierdo who keeps updating the boss on eveyone’s late coming. So anyway, my Grandmother had been begging me to go see her, so she can proclaim to her haters how her grandchild has grown, but i have always been busy. But the absence of my boss presented an opportunity, and i decided id go visit her for one day. Just one day. I had planned for thursday, but the wierdo didnt react to her contaminated lunch as early as i’d expected, so i had to wait till friday afternoon. As soon as she left, i also headed to Arua park, and boarded that bus to granny land. I was lucky to get Otada. That is the fastest bus that has’nt yet reported any accident. Four hours later, i arrived, but it was too dark to trek the 3km to my home, considering it was out of town. I thus proceeded to some funny lodge. At 2500shs a night, i wasnt obliged to complain about the leaking roof and healthy bedbugs; the demons responsible for my sleepless night. The following day, saturday, i was lucky to get a cheap bicycle heading those ends. 500shs all the way. He attempted to say. He obviously didnt get it right, but i got the point. I sat. The boy peddled. I felt sorry. Honestly, for 500shs, i wouldnt have carried myself up those slopes. Halfway the journey, he seemed to be sharing my line of thought, because he decided he would rather have no supper than suffer under my weight. I was left stranded in the middle of dust, because that is all you could see. I walked.
Finally, three hours later, i arrived. All those things villagers do to welcome the elite from kAmpala were done. Performances, sacrifices, cutting of trees, you name it. These things really take long, and by the time they were done, it was 3 in the morning. I had planned to arrive friday, show off saturday and return sunday, but that was not going to be possible. The showing off had to be postponed, and it had to take the whole day. I thus had to postpone my departure. Monday morning, i’d be on Otada, and by 2pm, id be in Kampala. Maybe i’d even pass by the office, give my boss a call, and wish him a safe journey.
Now Monday comes. My cousin offers to ride me to town, and knowing that would take a few good hours, we decide to rise early. By 6am we were on the road. We reached the outskirts of town at 8.45am, and just as we joined the morning jam, the phonecall came. I didnt even know there was signal in my village. Damn those ambitious MTN people.
So this is where i am now. Shuld i, or shouldnt i? To do or not to do. That is the question.
I decide to do. I pick up, tell the Boss i am stuck in jam. Just so you know, the bicycle jam can be very heavy! Worse than the car jam in kampala. In kampala you can get out of the car and get a boda to go through the jam. In Lira, totally different story. The bicycles are all moving at once. If one cyclist is tired of peddling, he can ask his neighbour to peddle for him a little. Once you are in the middle, it is advisabe not to get off till you reach your destination.
I tell the Boss i will report to office as soon as possible, announce battery problems and switch off my phone. My mind is now racing. Even if i try so hard, the earliest i can be there is 2pm. Maybe i should have heart failure on my way, there by forcing the Boss to feel sorry instead of firing me. All in all, i cannot afford to lose this job. Not with the accumulating bills i have. If i lose this job, how will i afford to buy hair. It is expensive these days, not to mention nails, eyebrows, and teeth. Anyway, let me reach kampala and see ekigenda maaso! Ill take it from there.
(PREVIOUSLY PUBLISHED IN THE WORKZINE (2))

it happened again! KINYIIZO NO.1 REPLAY!

So i told u guys about the first one, well it was bad, but i must say not as bad as this one!
So im in the office, commenting on some blogger’s writings, when the boss comes up to me and asks to put in an order for lunch at some expensive restaurant down the road. It being one of those things they just happened to forget to put in the job description, i do as im told. The rest of us wait for our simple lunch, and enjoy it, while the boss looks on, waiting for his. The hunger must have been unbearable, coz seconds later, he stands up and leaves for his office. In the middle of my meal, his order arrives. Wrapped in labelled foil with a decoratingly scented receipt, i receive the order and go up to the boss’ office to get the pay. He happens to be on the phone, and if i remember wel, i was told never to interrupt a phonecall unless my intention was to get sacked. Seeing that it was taking too long, i decide to pay for him, then claim my 20,000shs later on. How would he refuse??
So i do just that!
I tell him about the pay and he agrees to refund my money as soon as possible. This is before he realises he is almost late for a meeting, eats his food hurriedly like some hungry girl i remember in my school called rita who never had grub and always waited for school meals, and rushes off to the car, leaving me dumbfolded.
Ofcourse he will be back. Its just two o’clock. The meeting will surely be done by 5.
5o’clock reaches. No car, No boss.
5.15! Still nothing.
Ill give it 30 more minutes.
5.45. Silence.
At 6, i search my handbag for some coins, and decide to slope to the stage, get a taxi for 300, and walk the rest of the journey home. Its not that far anyway. Ill claim the 20,000shs tomorrow.
So i start my journey.
First of all, i must emphasize that the day before i had put on my new plada shoes (anti chinese duplicates), and they had left blisters on my feet, thus the reason for the flat shoes.
So im thinking, this strolling thing is not so bad. I could actually get used to it instead of the occassional booda home. I even start humming to that new song of miki wine’s that i sent mike at work. Life doesnt feel so bad……………..YET!
So i finally reach the bottom of the slope, and, yes, im still modelling as usual on the road feeling the diva, when i lift my leg and step on the ground. I know you wont believe me, because i couldnt believe it myself! I had actually walked out of my sole. As in i had walked and left the sole of my shoe behind. I swear i never knew this was even possible. I thought shoes only get fishes, and things like that. To think i had to find out this was possible infront of a main road with traffic jam, and no booda man in sight. I start to panic. (OMG i think i just saw my classmate. The one i had a crush on for two years.) What social suicide.
After dragging my sole on the ground with my foot like a lame goat, this booda man comes up to me.
‘Nyabo ogeenda?’
‘Ye ssebo.’ I answer, as i watch him come and park infront of me. (Do boodas park???) Anyway, knowing i have only 300shs which was supposed to be for my taxi, i decide to do the only noble thing a lady in my situation would do. Flirt-beg!
‘J’ebaale ko ssebo’
‘J’eebale’ he answers!
‘Ensuula!’ I think its some kind of greeting. I always hear ple use it!
‘Eyange nyabo?’
‘Ye! Eyiyo ssebo!’
‘Hmmm. Bulungi.’ He says with a frown, then adds ‘Nyaabo Ogenda!’

At this point i have to do it. Im almost in tears. I move closer so no one can overhear our conversation.
‘Bambi ssebo nyamba. Nsaba ontwaale wali eli kumpi ku kobula! Engatto yange eyulise!’ i managed.
‘Ompa meeka??’
‘Ssebo nkwegayiridde! Nina bisaatu byoka by’engenda okozesa kola ‘ngatto! Ngenda na taambula paka’ eka! Nsasira baambi!’
After what felt like a lifetime, he agreed to take me to the cobler. As thankful as i was, i had nothing to give him. All i could do was stand and wave as he left.
I turn to the cobler and give him the shoe.
Without even blinking, he says, in his proudly broken english, ‘Zat willo be seveni andred!’
Never in my life had i imagined id gasp at such a price. But thanx to my humble face, i was able to have him settle for 300shs. The walk home was exhaustingly painful!!!
But not as painful as tomorrow will be if the boss denies me that 20 bob!
(PREVIOUSLY PUBLISHED IN THE WORKZINE)

CAMPUSERS! WHAT WOULD WE DO WITHOUT YOU?

Campusers. The sources of all evil! That is what many believe, and i am proud to say i am one of them. These people, especially the girls, have a way of life that is just too too baed, especially when you need them for revenge on the male species.
You can either arrange for her to bleed his pockets dry till he cries out for blood transfusion, or you could just arrange for her to wreck his family and everything he has built for the past 30years. These are usually the two options that are presented when the topic is brought up for discussion. But alas there is another one. This one had even me, the revenge seeker, in thick blankets because i was shivering. Let me break it down for you.
It was totally his fault. He deserved it. He cheated on me with other girls, even though we were not formally in a relationship. I mean, so what if i accepted to be reduced to a friend of benefits? Does that mean you still go out and find a girl for the public eye? You do not make a fool of me and get away with it. That was when i decided i’d call in the help of the evil- mastermind. Her name was Shiela, but we all referred to her as the ‘CAMPUSER’. She was rather proud of her nickname. Despite her thick kiganda accent (and you know how local that can sound), her wierd walking style (still trying to figure out if its a limp), and her potruding belly, she still managed to look on point, mainly due to the fact that she had expensive clothes. She was always ready to respond to a ’sister’s’ cry for revenge. It was believed that she had taken an oath to make men pay for the pain they cause women. Anyway so she came over and we had a talk. I tod her about Abid, and she, as usual, presented the options. Seeing as he is naturally a broke man, i decided against emptying his pockets. What’s the point if they are already empty. Disorganising his family was also eliminated. I beg not to disclose the reason why. Anyway the third option is the one that made me shiver. It made me weak at the knees. It made me swet. All this at the same time. To sum it all up, i loved it. She was to begin effecting her plan that evening.
At around 7.30, as Abid left akamwesi for his evening lectures, we bumped into him. I introduced her and ten minutes later, she had his number. He must have been thinking his game was tight, seeing as it had been easy. I watched his smile of satisfaction and knew mine was not far.
Two weeks later, im seeing they are tight!
EH! OK! If this is still part of the plan… kiika!
A week later, im in my room minding my own business as usual, when Abid comes knocking. I let him in and he breaks down. He keeps wailind about how he is sick. He knows he is sick. He wants to kill himself… bla bla bla!
All the yap yap yadiyadah is getting to me, but i decide to play the caring friend of benefits and i encourage him to talk to me. This is his story:

‘After i met Shiela, a friend of mine told me she was a loose chick. So i talked to her about it and she told me how everyone loved spoiling her name. She was even a virgin. Why do people say things which are not true. She told me to tell her who had said those things so they can come and testify if they had slept with her to find out. With all her tears i was totally convinced. She has this vulnerability about her that cannot allow you walk away from her just like that. Two weeks later we started moving out. She started slowly pushing or sex, but i wanted to take my time for this virgin. Finally, the time came. She was temptation itself. Even if i had wanted to hold back, i wouldnt have had the will to. We had no condoms, but since she had me convinced she was a virgin, i figured she would swallow the pills later on. Her boldness should have triggered something, but waaah! I was too taken up. I only came to my senses when i put Jack Bauer inside Sophie, and there was no resistance. Immediately i pulled out. She was as wide as a basin. As soon as that was done, i knew i was sick.’
I said my sorries, exscused myself, went to the bathroom, opened the shower, flashed the toilet and laughed my eyes out, and died. After that short session, i resurrected, walked out and offered to escort him for a blood test the following day at TASO Mulago.
The following day, i picked him up and we were off. I tried my best to make him feel at ease, but i wasnt doing a good job at that! He kept emphasizing how useless it was if the virus cannot be detected till after five months. As much as i wanted to aknowledge that he is right, i had to play along with Shiela and take him for the blood test. We reached towards lunch time and were made to wait. There was a que forming right next to us, and when we asked what it was for, we were told that those were the AIDS patients lining up for their meds. No sooner had we asked than we saw Sheila emmerge from the room where the sick were entering. She came out holding many tablets. At first i thought i had seen someone else. So this is why she had insisted i drag him along for an HIV test. Abid saw her, right before his legs gaveway, and he collapsed.
If there were doubts that revenge was sweet, this time it was confirmed.
Campusers!!!!!!!!!! What more can i say!!!!!!!
NB: It was all an act on her part. I forced her to take a test and it came out Negative!

EDUCATION!

Education is very important, atleast to my parents. They value it so much that they will invest alot in their children up till university, and even past. Parents are really passionate about education, as they deem it a means to success. Children on the other hand, fail to see this.
I remember when i was young, i really hated school. I still do, but back then it was worse. My sisters and i used to fake sikness so that we would be allowed to stay home. This my parents tolerated for so long. It is how i perfected my fake asthmatic attacks.
But one day, it was really serious. My elder sister was in primary seven, and my parents wanted her in school all the time. So when she caught chicken pox, it was a terrible time for them. It did not help that the weeks she was missing were just an extended term for the candidates, while the rest of us were on holiday. For days all she did was walk around the house smeared in that white medicine that made her look like a ghost, eat, and watch tv. Even sleep was limited. This really frustrated my parents. They cared about her health, but evidently not as much as her education.
She had been home for almost two weeks, and there was not much progress. The chicken pox were still swollen, and as much as the doctor had given her medicine so they could dry up, this wasnt happening as fast as they had expected. My mother, being the one whol believes in impossibilities, decided to take matters into her own hands and heal my sister.
She got a basin, half-filled it with warm water, and a well folded face towel, and headed to the room where the sick one lay.
‘How are you feeling love?’ she asked!
‘Worse mummy. I dont know. These things are really itchy and painful.’
‘Dont worry. Let me just use this face towel to clean your sores.’
At this point, i decided to leave the room, not wanting to watch the fluid filled swellings being cleaned.
No sooner had i left the room than i heard a piercing scream. No doubt it was coming from my sister. I rushed back to the room only to find my mother bursting the swellings with a pin she had carefully hidden in the facetowel.
‘You shall get better and go to school.’ She kept shouting, hoping my sister would hear her above the screams. This was too too funny. My mother had honestly run mad; but atleast her tactics worked faster than any medication the sick one had been taking. To this day, i still laugh myself to tears everytime i see a chickenpox victim.

FASHION POLICE sunday magazine

A cerain sunday, i laughed as i read Buzz’s article about the chick who was in the worst dressed thing. It was more than hillarious. I personally had never known anyone who had been put in the newspapers for worst dressed. I actually thought they were hired to wear those hideous outfits, and paid well. It always seemed like most of them actually posed for the snaps, and that is what convinced me they definately knew they would be hitting the papers that sunday. I mean, how was one supposed to be suprised if a whole camera crew came infront of them, took their pictures, asked them to turn around and took some more pictures, then flashed their sunday vision magazine ids?? Ofcourse this was always expected.
I wish i had met the girl Buzz and his negative friend met before she appeared in the papers, so she could tell me her story, because what i received when i opened the sunday magazine yesterday but one was more than shock!!!!! It was such a big shock it took a whole day for me to get my head together and actually write about it! There on the front page, smiling at the camera, 31 all out (obviously 31 coz you could see a gap thus eliminating one), eyes wide open, was the girl i remember standing next to quite well. The thought that it could have easily been me was so overwhelming, especially considering the fact that i have curfew, so questions would have been raised as to what i was doing after sunset, i just wept!!!!!!!!!
I still cant believe it could have easily been me! Lemme go weep again! there is a God after all!

hmmmm MEN!!!

Everyone knows those things, and everyone has those days. You were the ka cute hot chick in secondary, the one who was so picky, or you were the hot rich boy who was such a sweller that all the single girls’ schools named their swells after you; hmm, you annoy me! Ill cain a Micheal on you, you’ll never recover!, and then ple get scared! Dont swell on me please!!!
Anyway, that is how it was for this friend of mine. Im hot, many people say it, but for some reason we were just good friends. Really good friends. Not that it bothered me, i just thought id put that out there. So we finished sec school, and vac was fun. He never really got a girlfriend, opting to stick with his swell, and that was fine by everyone. What was not was the fact that he took it upon himself to criticise every other friend of his’ chik.
‘Hmmm, sincerely, is that the best you can do?’ or
“Man my boy, that chik is weeeaaaakkkk!, God should have mercy’ or when you go out, he looks for the wierdest girl around, looks her up and down, insults her to the core, then finishes by sayin, ’she may not be my 1000th choice, but she is better than your 1st!’
These insults many took to heart. They broke up with their chicks without valid reasons, and used exscuses like… ‘when i come to your home, your dog barks. It doesnt like me. I wouldnt want to be the reason it doesnt jump for you anymore’.
The few who swallowed that nonsense like men and stuck to their chiks pumped cash into them so they could have makeovers till Micheal passed a compliment. At the end of it all, we were all convinced that Micheal would import Angelina Jolie from those ends, because she is the only one who could match his taste.
Vac came and went.
Campus started.
We all decided halls were a better option. My reason was because they are cheaper, but i preferred to lie to the world like the rest of my friends that that is were the fun happened! First sem came and went with Micheal still single. His other friends however needed those better halves so they braved his insults and did what they had to do. They trekked to hostels to deliver a meal worth a week’s expenditure, as long as at the end they got something out of it. Micheal relaxed. Kept announcing how the chik he would finally date would be so hot, we would need a global fan to cool the earth. We accepted. Took him at his word, and decided to wait.
A few weeks to the end of the second semester, Ivan noticed his friend (and roomate) was always caught up in discussions somewhere in the land of dust (read kikoni). He had never taken books this seriously. He wanted to be proud of him, but knew there was something behind all this.
One day, he decides to go to that dusty place to visit a friend of his. Micheal was out, and the boredom was killing him (his words). He calls her up and she tells him she is in a friend’s room; he should pass by and pick her up.
Loaded with those sausages that are roasted on sticks in wandegeya and the foil he always carries to wrap them in so they look expensive, he heads to her place. He bumps into her at the gate leaving, and she says…
‘uh, was just about to call you. Anyway my friend is there with her man! The things they were almost doing infront of me!! Hmmmmm. Anyway now that you’re here, lemme go back and pick my bag so we can go.’
He escorts her back. She knocks on the door. Some huge chik with crooked teeth and a wierd accent opens. She smiles. He smiles. He looks past her. He sees micheal. micheal practically collapses. Ivan dies with laughter. He calls me. He narrates the story. I call Dennis, i tell him. he offers to take us for pork. We go and laugh about it.
TWo weeks have passed, and Micheal is still trying to get everyone to believe that the chik forced him if she was to help him pass.
HMMMM!!! MEN!

THE WHITE….. (iv been tryin to avoid usin the word in the whole post but i am beaten) BITCH!

So what was a lovely bonding session at lunch just turned into a heated argument about boarding schools when the boss decided to turn up.
One of the employees was sharing about how he really wants to be a headmaster later on in life, and we were all teasing him about whether it would be day or boarding. Laughter and smiles turned into a search for serviettes to clean the food that was almost flying around as we all struggled to put out points across. As you might have guessed, i was on the side of psychological stability, and the boss was on the side of good behaviour. My thoughts started to drift. I was sure i was right.
I was taken back to those days in that hell-hole.
Back to the times were giggers were the norm as girls walked the streets of the school in slippers.
It was a beautiful school. By far one with the prettiest compuonds in the Pearl. Its beauty mainly hailed from the fact that it was led by THE White one. Not just any white one, but THE WHITE IRISH SISTER.
She had led the school since the early days of Muteesa I, and had even schooled Obote’s offspring. She was a saint to many; many who lived not within the walls.
But we knew better. To us, she was THE white woman who made us kneel in stones infront of her office because we could not pronounce the word ‘carry-ying’ like they do back in Ireland.
To us she was the White woman who always forced us to thank her for the slashes we got because one of the actresses had fallen sick and she was irreplacable, or the ones we gave ourselves because we could not baa-baa like the sheep in the Birth of Jesus story.
To us she was the ….. that screamed her head off because one person failed to afford the school hymn book.
She was the…. that stopped mass because the hosts were too many.
The… who practically spat at you coz they were too few.
She was the … that encouraged confession only so she could keep the record of your wrongs and punish you for them later on.
She was the one who forced parents to whip their nine year old girls for running away from the school, without realising how desperate they were to get away from her.
I could go on forever, although she tried to make up for this by giving us nice food during christmas parties and cheap gifts.
All in all, i totally hate and disagree with parents who take their children to boarding schools, especially religious ones at primary level.

BUT I MUST SAY I LOVE YOU SISTER WHEREVER YOU ARE! NO OFFENCE! I WAS JUST WRITTING AN ARTICLE!

CHEEYE SHOULD STYLE UP!

I was just reading about how Cheeye is still in jail because of his failure to raise the 60million bail money!
Now this is either sheer stupidity or the man is innocent! He is supposed to have stolen 120million. Lets say he kept 75million for himself. Isnt he supposed to have trippled and quadrippled that money by now?? Im sure he knew they would eventually get him. Shouldnt he therefore have been planning to keep some incase they ask him to pay it back?
Honestly 60million is supposed to be pocket change, considering he has had about 4years to multip[ly 120million!
Cheeye should style up!
A thief who is not bright deserves nothin less that life imprisonment.
They would rather forgive a smart thief!

IlovemyBOSS

At this point i am in tears. I do not know how much more i can take. I am writing because i am tired of telling you about my problems. I have complained almost everyday about one thing or the other, and you have listened. You have talked me into laughter, and dried my tears before they fall. You have made me feel alive when beaten down, and still i have never heard you complain. You have never, even once, shown that you are busy when i needed an ear, but i know that time will come. I feel you have done too much, and i dont want to push you away by telling you more. That’s why i am writing this.
Today has been a bad day. I have told you about it, but there is still more. I have been scolded infront of my juniors, and shouted at infront of my peers. I have been mocked by my superiors and the shame is driving me crazy.
I am tired of writing about it like it is something to laugh about. When i tell the stories, i throw in alot of humour so that it masks the pain. The responses i receive lift me up and allow me to look at every negative situation as an opportunity for a new post. I am fed up of hiding behind all the laughter. I may be calling for pity, but what does it matter.
I pity myself for keeping this job when i dont really need it. But is it wrong to want to start a life as early as possible so i can have something when i leave campus? Is it too much to ask to have a boss who understands that its my first job and i will make mistakes? Further more is it too much to ask that i dont be over worked on the account that i need to study too?
This is too much for me. I cry now, but deep down i know i will be here tomorrow and the day after. I will be here till the end of the year and i will watch my salary being cut off because i took a day off to sit for a test, and a few more days to sit for my final exam.
But the tears are comforting. Somehow they help me understand that i am human. They help me know that i am reaching my end.
Maybe this isnt good for me.
Almost everyday i get reminded of how replacable i am. How i am almost a liability, and how i do not deserve to be spoken to in soft tones. Everyday i am reminded that being young is a crime. A crime with a sentence that has no end. Everyday i laugh at the jokes told about me, and pretend i am not bothered.
I grow my hair, he says it is not good enough.
I buy more hair, he says i should hide my face.
I cut it off, he notices it is like for a maid.
I laugh because i know this is the only time i will enjoy him not shouting at me. Anyother conversation is almost a call for my resignation.
The tears i hold back, i will cry when i leave, because i just realised, if i go on with this post as i let it all fall, i will not have the guts to hold my head high.
And just as i am about to end this, he calls and say, ‘hey, would you please put headed paper in the printer, oh and thank you so much for staying late yesterday!’
It is always in the small things!
He gets me!
That alone makes me feel that i can make it to the end (whenever that is).
Im done crying. Scratch everything i said above!
I LOVE MY BOSS, and I LOVE MY JOB!
i will say it even if it kills me.
LOVELY WEEKEND PLE!