I am not yet done with the last four. I still have some FAILS I need to sort. If you thought I am a genius… Definitely nobody thought that. You all know am stupid. I will stop at that.
It feels good not having cleared school. You got an excuse for not having a job. Being ever broke. Sleeping the whole day. Never contributing in buying alcohol (I do at times) when you go out. Visiting people empty handed.
But some people don’t just get it. They can’t let a man have his time. They are trying to push me to the corporate world. I hate the corporate world. Not exactly, I hate offices. They come with rules. I hate rules. People take pictures of themselves sitting in posh office seats, to boast on social media. To make us losers have ulcers. You already know every time a friend succeeds, I die inside. Offices will be the cause of my death.
The cleanliness, daily good looks, and smartness are not my optimum environment. I prosper in a mess. Messes turns me on.
I prefer waking up late, stay in my boxers or sweat pants, as I repeatedly poke my keyboard to get some coins. Get sorted on the spot. Go drink till the cash is drained. Repeat.
These guys don’t think I work. They think I just stare at my computer the whole day without doing anything constructive. They are right majority of the time. They think I am wasting away. I got wasted ages ago. Now after some good talks, mostly proverbs, I am doing what any other guy who clears the last four does. Si you know what.
I have got two interviews at the same time. I don’t know which one to attend. Do I let go of both or just not honour either? Makes sense, right?
I hate interviews. People lie in interviews. This piece today is full of hate. I hate to confess that. Maybe just a little…of hate. I hate lying. I never lie. I am poor at it.
Be sure that for almost a year now I have never lied to you here. Everything I tell you here is the truth. You can go back and review. Do your due diligence. I cannot tell you that “I won’t lie to you” then go ahead and lie anyway. I value the relationship we are trying to build here. Our relationship won’t be built on lies. I also appreciate your truth. Those who find my work sounding like a composition. Or unreadable. Boring should also be here. Keep them feedback coming.
If this too tastes like dog poop served with puke being inserted in your throat. You can skip the rest and get me in inbox. Or just skip the whole thing from 8-4-4 and return next week. I promise to be better.
If you keep to this journey then you will take me through the hate journey. By the end you might hate yourself for wasting minutes of your life.
Shitty Fact; You never know the amount of potential you harbor in you till the power of hate takes control.
Hate stops here.
I settled on the interview to attend. I was liking the idea of the C word.
I had been sitting at the reception of Parklands Sports Club for almost an hour. The place looks heavenly with a set of two chairs and a hard wood table on either side of the entry. The door on the right leads to the sportswear and clothe shop. On the left to the offices, while straight ahead a security point leading to the lobby.
I was checking out some kid membership brochure when a familiar voice gets to me, “Hey, you are Lewis, right?” It was more of a statement than a question.
Then turns to the guy on the other side and confirm, “And you are (not Lewis).”
I had spent a good time weighing the possibility of this guy being my competition. If at all he was, then I had no business sitting there. We are all taught to believe we are the best. That we have the best bodies made of precision out here. That we must believe we are the best thing that any human seed can form. We are a gift to the other mankind. Do you now see why I hate motivational speaking?
Those things can make you think all you need is passion, and a little work and just like that, you are headed to becoming a billionaire. Or does it work that way? I don’t know. I have no passion to follow. Neither do I know how to work hard.
Well, the guy looked better than me in several ways. We can face the truth. He had a fine suit on. I was also suited up. Only that he looked like he is used to it. I am used to looking like a homeless drug addict. He looked weightier. He looked like someone who knew the weights. It was like pitting Kevin Hart against Idris Elba in the game of vertical heights.
That got me happy and sad at the same time.
Happy because I was sure we couldn’t be going for the same position. You don’t look all that good only to tussle for a position with me. You will be losing in life.
Sad; if my fears were true, I had to subject the substance between my ears to extra use. You all know I don’t like doing that. I hate thinking. I hate putting my brain to work. I experience brain freeze most of the times. I use my brain sparingly. Some generation is coming that will need it.
“Let’s go to the other side.” Madam familiar voice says pointing to the lobby.
Everyone goes through the security. She inserts her card on an ATM like machine. She is a member. I put my phone on the security tray then move to pass through. “Put even the bag!” One of the security gets me back.
I take a step back. Place my bag. I start walking ahead. “Put everything in!” He retorts in a speaker loud voice. Eyes around concluded stuffs about me.
I put my card holder. It has several cards. Though I only carry it for the ID.
By the time I was done, she had already got her card back and probably wondering the village I am from. I felt like telling her that it happens to me at the airport as well. I am always in a hurry to cross. I am used to moving fast. More like I am always fleeing something.
“You guys came early.” She says immediately I was done embarrassing myself.
“Bitch you came late, we have been waiting.” My mind was screaming that, while my mouth could only afford a chuckle.
“I will start with you Lewis.” Then turns to our not-Lewis, “let me finish with him, I get to you.” I was deeply hoping it was not a classical case of save the best for last.
We sat under a dining shade. I placed my hands at the brown edges of the table surrounded with six seats. We were occupying the space directly opposite, facing each other. Our luggage put on the respective seats such that, a bag faces a purse, a cutie faces a hunky and empty stuff as well.
“So tell me about yourself.” She asked snapping my attention off the wet patches of her brown jacket.
I should have told you that she had excused herself to the washroom. The wet patches on the jacket explained. I also should have told you that she was wearing black pants, that I won’t describe how nice they look. That we talked some times on the phone. Familiar voice explained. I should have told you a lot other things but I won’t. I have forgotten. I can’t recall her face. I don’t recall her voice. But be assured I recall whatever I will tell you here. I know you believe me. Because I won’t lie to you.
Back to whom I am.
Let’s pretend that you don’t know me already. I am Lewis; I don’t give a fuck about a lot of things. I am lazy. I don’t give a fuck is my unwritten motto. I have a record of leaving jobs without notice.
Obviously that only belongs in my mind. Or maybe if I share with you here like I have done.
I gave a good account of what I hoped Lewis was. Or what would give an impression I imagine they would want.
“What do you know about the organization?”
I have never doubted the wit of my pal Google, not even a dime, and for that he is always more than generous to get me good info. Be assured I aced that.
Across me she was beaming with a smile. I took it as a show of getting impressed.
“Do you have any questions for me?” she asked perusing through the papers she had as if to look for more questions.
“Yeah. Several. Mostly personal.” I thought. But yet again, my mouth and brain were not coordinating well. So I asked the simple things normal people get from the internet or boring people would ask.
Then some little more talk on the organization and stuff.
“What’s your age? You haven’t indicated it here.” She asked darting her eye across the personal profile on my CV.
“Does it have any bearing here? Or do you guys have some restrictions.” I asked hoping she would say that she was asking for personal reasons.
“No restrictions really. We need to have details about people we work with.”
“Well, I am (insert any random old age.)”
She burst a little, “You are such a kid!”
“I am turning (insert random older age) soon.”
“Nuh you are still such a kid.” She insisted amid little laughter.
Just like that we were done. Maybe interviews are not that akin to twinge after all.
Okay, that’s all I remember from the interview. Every part left out is not intentional. I also told them to have a look at this site before making their final decisions.
Do you think this piece might deny me a place over there? I trashed the post on 101 facts about me when I allowed some people to take a background check on me. That’s how careless I can get.
How could I forget this? She repeatedly said that it’s fun working in their organization.
Let me get to updating my CV. In the meantime, you all see why I shouldn’t be going to work. I am still a kid.