I stomped out from a business meeting where I was furious with myself for not being as assertive as I vowed to be. There I was, this single insignificant but malicious creature standing along a Singapore road, seething and steaming in anger. Apparently I really suck at business meetings because I tend to keep quiet and let the other party take the lead and go on while I meekly sit in silence, not daring to oppose anything I happen to disagree with.
This is definitely not consistent with my usual behaviour. Maybe it has to do with my age, for I feel it is disrespectful to retort businessmen who are much older and more experienced than me, even if they were obvious bullies.
That is not the point. The point is, having met whoever I met today for a few times already, I've been advised to speak my mind to this fellow (about him actually giving me money for a service instead of just profit sharing) TODAY because I have merely whimpered in his presence for the past few times I met him, completely not saying what I have to, and thus wasting both of our time.
This time, I told myself I must be confident and speak up. To my credit I did, but I sounded like an abused environmentalist with a gag. After he got the gist of what I was stuttering incoherently, he bellowed with laughter and asked in the most incredulous tone he could muster: WHY HE SHOULD PAY ME?!
Why indeed.
Before I could go into the million reasons why he should, he went on about why he SHOULDN'T, while I hung my head down actually feeling pretty ashamed that I should have asked such a thing.
Don't know what came over me. Anyway, after the meeting the cloud of confusion cleared up, and I realised I've been STUPID once again. I also remembered taking a cab to the place, thus wasting $9.70 and also missing lunch.
I then made a phone call. It involved a person I rather liked telling me he would like to fuck a friend of mine and whether I could make the introduction for him.
This made me very very angry indeed.
I called Eileen and started to complain in soft gentle tones, just kidding, really loud tones, until Eileen asked me in a rather hurt voice how come I am hollering like my windpipe just got back from a ski in the alps. (At this point of time I committed my third mistake of the day which is to complain to Eileen when she has been waiting patiently for a call from me to wish her a happy happy 23rd birthday [which I plainly forgot])
As I was shouting at Eileen something ultimately unpleasant happened.
This fellow, who could be best described as having a typical MLM salesman look (and most possibly is), walked towards me. He was in a grey shirt, black trousers, and had most unflattering golden streaks in this black hair which partially obstructed his oily, late-twenties face.I don't have problems with his appearance. I did, however, have a problem with the thing he was holding. A Sony Erisson handphone I believe, with a camera. He failed majestically to act like he wasn't taking my photo because not only was the lens directed at me, his phone was held far too high/straight to be credible for msging.
Never mind that this oily fellow was taking my photo. That is ok. But no! His phone had to be aiming at my ... cleavage. (My blouse wasn't even that low cut lor, cmon)
At this point of time you may be wondering about the cartoon. Ok, I got the head of the man by searching "pervert" in google image, so yup, don't you think it is just so apt?
Back to the story, since I was speaking with Eileen and the man was walking pretty fast, I let him go off.
Later on, HE DID SOMETHING VERY RIDICULOUS. HE U-TURNED. He caught up with me, and ...
SEMI-TURNED AROUND WHILE STANDING SIDE-BY-SIDE WITH ME, AIMED HIS CAMERA AT MY INNOCENT BOOBS, AND PRETENDED TO BE LOOKING AT SOMETHING OVER MY SHOULDER.
Someone give this man a Subtlety Award please, I can hardly stand it.
He then proceeded to walk really fast ahead, where he stopped at a bus stop.
Eileen and I finished our conversation, and so I was just walking alone now. He also didn't know that I was a particularly furious individual at that point of time.
When I had to inevitably walk pass that fucker at the bus stop, he turned and aimed another shot, just "happening" to be standing at the opposite direction of his fellow commuters (which was facing the road, naturally).
So bloody obvious.
I strangled him.
Ok I didn't. And that is because his face is really oily. That, and I am scared he asks me to buy MLM.
But I did shout at him in a perfectly audible and plenty loud voice, "WHAT ARE YOU TRYING TO DO?!"
The fucker stammered something. I cut him off and continued, "You were trying to take my photos right?"
He said, "No... I... I wasn't," and with shifty movements tried to show me the screen of the phone which he obviously had exited the camera mode.
"THEN WHY ARE YOU GOING BACK AND FORTH?"
"I... I was looking for a sign."
Sign my ARSE. Bloody muthafucker is dishonest AND intensely stupid as well as lecherous.
2 split seconds later I was realised it was my turn to speak and I couldn't think of anything else to say, so I gave him the dirtiest look I could arrange my facial muscles to form and muttered, "JERK." after rolling my eyes in what I hoped was a vehement fashion.
I then stomped off.
As I was chewing on a Pau Dian carrot cake (nicest carrot cake in the universe) much later, I realised I was being too kind. I should have snatched the phone from him (yikes, oily. And I think he masturbates to it), delete my photos, then accuse him of saving them in some obscure folder and thus giving me a reason to toss the phone out into the road where it becomes electronic roadkill.
I should then kick his balls, take a photo of him wincing in pain, and publish it on this site saying that this man is in pain because he just had a belly button transplant. Of course no such thing happened, which will piss him off infinitely because random people would ask him how come he needed to transplant his belly button, did he forget to plug out his umbilical or something *snigger snigger*? where he would go mad eventually and really transplant his belly button just so that he can answer the questions without going mad.
But NO! All I said was "Jerk."
I am still very angry! ARRRgggghh! I hope he gets a million ulcurs on both of his hands and they rapture and/or implode with a vengence. When he wants to wank, which he no doubt will, he realises he cannot use his hands and attempts to use his feet, which unless he is a yoga master he can't (and he isn't a yoga master because he is an MLM salesman). The feet are infected with an unidentified green fungus with yellow secretions and smells so bad it renders his said genitalia flaccid and unable to erect for the rest of his adult life. When he is all senile and have not wanked for 49.2 years, he decides it is time to try with a glass bottle. He valiently goes ahead, not noticing it contains concentrated sulfuric acid.
HMPF!
Ok I am done with complaining. To be fair to the day, it wasn't all that bad lah. I had great fun with Shuyin, Wanyi and Alvin Lam (their schoolmate) at KTV. In the morning a newpaper photojournalist also came to my place to take a shoot.
That's right! The ambassadorship has caught the attention of Edwin Yeo (he is actually a friend of mine) when he glanced through the blog. Edwin is, as most of you already know, a newpaper reporter lah. (Due to an unfortunate miscommunication Turodrique and I both thought we sent the press release to Newpaper where we both thought wrong) So yay, gonna be on papers! =) No idea when though, should be the day after?
We did the interview at Wisma, but Edwin refused to let me take a photo of him, rudely claiming he doesn't want to be on my blog (in a tone like one would exclaim that they don't want to be on an obiturary page).
Therefore, I took a photo of his hand.
Excuse the ciggie.
Anyway, as I was saying, Edwin conducted the interview in Wisma where I got more and more amazed as the interview went on.
This is because he was writing in shorthand.
Everytime someone asks me whether I can write in shorthand, I always say I can, because I have no idea what it is. I thought it just means shortforms like B4 and TMR and what's nots.
But I had no idea it is a foreign language altogether:
It reads: The weather is so nice. The lady in front has a nice cleavage. I am very amazed at the way you write cleavage. And so on.
Amazing right! To think I accused Edwin of horrible handwriting initially.
Ok, sleep time. Nights! It is 5.34 now. AM!
Of course, happy happy (belated) birthday beautiful Eileen! I love you! (Now everyone wish her too ok!!)
Disclaimer: Sorry, realised the shorthand text might be easily mistaken. Edwin told me to say something so that he could write it down. So I said the weather is nice, and that the lady in front had a nice cleavage (a random angmoh woman). It wasn't HIM talking about ME. Obviously he couldn't let me take a picture of the interview details lest people who can read shorthand reads what he says. Anyway, further proof the cleavage lady wasn't me? I was wearing a LocalBrand tee that day which shows no cleavage whatsoever.
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