“K.S.A.; knowledge, skills, attitudes” I was told
by one of my lecturers that I need to increase mine. Right after my morbid
experience of the local GCSE Advanced Level AND getting its results with a
shock, I was motivated to find a job. That’s a laugh and a half. A job at 19?
With no highlighted qualifications and zero experience at professionalism and
armed only with my AL results and a list of stuff I did at school, I was ready.
I applied as the only position I thought I could accomplish given that I do not
have any professionally qualifications worth mentioning: as a call center
agent.
And there I was, sitting awkwardly at the reception
of a prestigious bank in uptown Colombo. Dressed in a white shirt, Black skirt
(burrowed from a friend duh.as if I owned a skirt. Get real) clutching my very
thin file which held a trivial amount of certificates in it, reminiscing about
the conversation I had the day before. I
was having an afternoon snooze when I received their call and of course the
brain takes a few prolonged minutes to register what the caller is saying and I
was just too sleepy to be excited about the interview and I was all “can’t we
reschedule?” obviously the answer was a no. so I was thinking who in their
right mind would hire a person who asks to reschedule their interview cuz they
were too sleepy. Well apparently I got through. Shockingly. I had aced the
interview and was on my way to being a telemarketing associate. Ha ha. I was
too shocked to be happy about it though.
One could say it was the beginning of my training. Id
says i was learning. I learned how to work an elevator, how to operate that
darn touch screen ATM machine, how to fill various bank slips, how to fill
weird application forms, make a rapid number of calls while updating inventory
and last but not least, to walk in heels. Yes. I admit I was unable to stand
steady yet alone actually walk in one of them hideous contraptions but hey,
like some wise person once said, when life gives you lemons, make lemon juice
out of it. Being a 5 foot 8, I never actually had the need to own one. But
believe me when I say, they hurt. Freakin Bad. True, heels make your bum look
big and make you walk with your head held high etc etc. But it felt like
walking on live coals, except that id be raised a few inches from the ground
which is no help what so ever since there are no live coal involved anyway.
I had to walk with extreme cautious. For once in my
life I had to actually pay attention to the road I was treading on. Apart from the random dog poo which we all
keep an eye out for, I had to be aware of the little drain holes with bars
going through them. One fatal step and the inability to properly bend down in
order to get unstuck (because I was wearing a skirt!!) tend to keep one’s mind well-tuned.
The ground had to be perfectly
horizontal too. No weird dents etc. And all these MIPs or millions of
instructions per second tends to consume a significant of time thus reducing
the speed of my journeys. Wanting to save my first allowance I refused to hire
an office van and travel by bus. Unwise choice my friend. Unwise. The resulting ordeal in the bus at office
hours is *shudder* not a pleasant experience.
Believe me when I say, I really wanted to deck those shoes and rebel against the
authoritative administration by wearing flats. I have enough and more factors
to back me up. Heels make it next to
impossible for an attempt at an escape in the event of a fire, or to catch the
bus or god forbid, run amuck if and when approached by an assailant or a rabid
dog.
From the
obvious damsel in distress issues, the health factors of wearing stilettos are
unseen but equally dangerous. It causes our bone structure drastic damage. Body
weight distributed unevenly forces the weight to focus on the balls of our
feet. Not to mention the ankle injuries and spinal aches.
Nuff said. Relived to say, I survived.
Although it was a brief stay, I learned. A lot. I warmly
welcomed experience offered by the job and did my best and marked a lucky mile
stone of a 100 calls a day by the second week. (including the engaged and the
wrong numbers) it was just like school. You get the jerks, the pranksters, the
ice cubes, the workaholics, the talketives and the always-yapping-on-the-phone
bunch. It was all good though. A variety of people, different backgrounds,
various likes and dislikes mixed together formed the Crew.
Suffice to say, I gained new networks. A few, I
really could have done without, a few that made me realize that life isn’t over
after school. We did the usual goofing about, gossiped, ate like there was no
tomorrow although the ‘bunking classes’ part I never got the chance to do. I
also wanted to try my toe on the scanning machine to see if it would recognize
me but didn’t quite get around to doing that.
It was really one of life’s experiences. A different
stage in life where an individual is released out to go, to see, to concur. And
I did, enjoy it to the very end.
the author subsequently lost her fear of heels and now dances the salsa in it.
the author subsequently lost her fear of heels and now dances the salsa in it.
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