Footsteps of a Pedestrian

Double Celebration

For starters, I’m the receptionist for the day. At your service.
Well, maybe it’s because I don’t have a much work as I should have.
My fault. I appeared to be slacking off because I leave work at 5pm.
But sometimes it makes me wonder, why the text messages with assignment of tasks comes in at 7am and to be completed by let’s say 8.30am?
Could it be because I come to work at 7? 

Apart from that, the little device I use for my accounting entries has gone missing.

Perfect.

This may be the first time I’m smiling when sitting at the reception because without that device, work is impossible.
So, that’s a bigger deal.

And this morning, walking in the rain was like being chased by Dementors.

Oh wait. I’m the Admin Assistant as well.
*gives a tune to chores like Marshall*
The printer ran out of letterheads~
Gonna get them from the storeroom~
There’s a meeting going on~
Gonna get them later~

And trust me on this, at the end of the day, it won’t be no thank you no apologies no nothing.
Just be me causing a delay (actually to no one else) because my workload is always in the WIP stage (it has always been complete). Dude, WIP cases? You’ve mistook me for someone else. I’m slacking off. I’ve changed. Why did I change? Why did I this? Why did I that? 

*Update: 10.44am*
The actual Admin Assistant is in.
Gee, I wonder if he needs to take over his duties.
Let’s wait and see. 

Nope. No one.

NEWSFLASH!

Now I’m a runner as well.

Accounts Executive cum despatch.

What else couldn’t you think of?

Decoratin’

Will decorate this blog soon. And maybe start on street photography. Or project 365!

Like whoa, excitement!

Whoa, hey there

Angry-first-entry-there-to-eager-couldnt-wait-not-to-post-before-an-introduction-to-another-subblog

Yes, hello world!

Fingernails In My Eye started off as a place I rant.
Cause not like I could tell anyone.
I don’t bother others with the problems or self-proclaimed problems I have.

I know, a woman’s voice yapping is indeed annoying. True that. I totally agree.
*hint* To all female out there who wants to complain about anything to me, go away. Start a blog if you can’t find anyone to talk to. 

Well, actually, I never thought that I would blog in FIME (Fingernails In My Eye) ever again. But I needed an outlet somewhere.

And I wanted this to be actually a voice from the point of view of a pedestrian but workplace issues tend to appear, I have to let them out here as well.

I’ve been a pedestrian ever since I left high school. All through college, until this very moment.
I’ve been through it all. And I have to say…. road users… you’ve changed.

Cars and motorcycles don’t run red lights anymore.
They just drive on with their usual speed as thought it’s nothing. Nothing.
It’s always the pedestrians’ fault to cross the road (at the pedestrian crossing, mind you) when the light for pedestrians is green because it causes the motorcyclists to slow down or even come to a hault. *gasp*

I never felt the impact before as I’ve just been escaping, running, sprinting around town until the near-death experience I had one Saturday.

Sad to say. I was never in peace walking to work ever since.
But personal transport is not an option.

I just hope road users would be kind enough to spare our lives. Please.

Yah, too much, I know

Not that I’m complaining about some minor staple removing and restapling work but if the papers were dumped onto my table like garbage, untreated, with scraps and bits of leftover papers still attached and a staple dangling for its dear life through a hole it just punched through a moment ago but was figured out that it wasn’t needed anymore but too difficult or too energy-consuming to be removed,

that’s just… plain rude.

You know, at least for once, I just thought……. maybe…… I could like, you know, be treated like a human, eh? No? That’s not how it works?

I thought keeping my table clean would do the trick. Like it would look out of place or plain wrong to have things thrown and piled up all over the place.

I thought I’m here to work rather than picking up your shyt.

Too much, am I? 

I know I’m too much. I should never be thinking about things like these.
Why even try to hope for equal treatment?

Sorry for asking. My bad. Yah, my bad. Piece of crap.