business-like

business-like

0930hrs - It was just another Thursday morning. The working class were all crashing onto the train, rushing off to work at. I was amongst them, strangely out of place with a fresh face that said "I've had ample sleep".

0955hrs - I alighted at Raffles Place and stood in right in front of the directory, feeling a whole throng of adults rush past me, looking for Republic Plaza.

1000hrs - I walked through the main entrance of Republic Plaza building, with at least 10 pairs of eyes pinned on me. 2 pairs belonged to the security guards at the door; another 2pairs belonged to the pair of pretty receptionists at the counter. The rest belonged to random people who were on their way up to work.

1002hrs - The huge, empty, intricately mirrored lift came to a halt on the 58th storey. Puffing my ears with air to get rid of the pressure, I checked my reflection once more in one of the many mirrors and stepped out of the lift. Only to walk out to a fully carpetted reception area with an elegant white leather couch.

I whipped out my embarassingly pink and scratched phone and punched in a few numbers to locate my saviour - a Mr. Yogesh. I prayed so hard that I pronnounced his name correct. A few minutes later, a man in his mid-twenties strolled towards me, clad neatly in a suit. He extended his hand and shook mine in a business-like manner, and proceeded to lead me into the interview room. Office ladies in immaculate make-up, flawless office wear and stilettoes smiled at me as I walked in the wake of Mr. Yogesh. I looked down at my white tank top, black denim jacket and faded denim skirt and fake Birks and thought of my amateur mascara and hastily slapped on lip gloss, and contorted my face into what I hope was a polite smile.

So after a long stretch of creamy corridoor, passing about 500 doors, Mr. Yogesh finally inserted a card into the lock and led me into a simply-furnished room with a lap-top on the table.

Then he asked, "Can I get you anything? Coffee? Tea? Soft drinks?"

I wondered what happened to all the saliva in my mouth. Finally I found my tongue and replied "Oh, tea please."

And then, he inquired, "English tea?"

I wondered why didn't I simply ask for soft drinks and look like a kid for all I cared. But I smiled and said, "Yes, please."

"English tea" turned out to be a small cup of hot water with some milk splashed in and two Lipton teabags. And it tasted exactly like the normal typical Kopitiam teh-ping. So now I comprehend the term English tea after half-scalding my tongue in eagerness to accept the beverage.

Then the interview began.

No, I wasn't applying for job at the Central Business District. Haha it's nothing much actually. A few days ago some person called me up and told me the school has given their office my name to go down for a interview-format review on the newly revamped website for application of the PSC Scholarship by Human Factors. I'd recieve 25bucks as a token of appreciation from PSC. Who was I to complain? 25bucks for an hour and a half of my morning, with English tea and a few Mentos to go along! Well, minus all the initial jitters and slightly scalded tongue.

The morning's experience drew me to the conclusion that I wanna stay in school forever. Imagine that had been my first job-interview. Shudders. Just the thought of you mesmerizes me so.