Of tight jeans and places of work
“I should have been high,” The first thought that hit me when I entered the bustle environment of Kikuyu’s Unity finance offices, you see dear reader (and yes Dennis Peters I will continue calling my readers dear, I shall not be derailed unless you shat a steamy mountain in my compound, that has been proven to work) I was given an Internship at the Bank cum credit Savings and credit Co-operative society and technically I was regretting every moment of it.
Don’t get me wrong the bank is awesome, with modern facilities and lots of LAN ports with Ethernet cables, paradise for a geek like me. However in comparison to online jobs which have been a fluctuating but sure way of income for me in the past year, working in a bank is Hell.
The first thing you’re denied is your freedom and self-expression, when I’m working on projects online I can easily resort to a crazy jig’alo naked to the bone marrow and have no fear, heck I’m my own man, self-employed. There is no fear of being caught thirstily looking at the tea Walla’s ass as she pours that hot steaming cup of coffee so provocatively… I’m a man, these things happen.
The next thing dear reader is your attire, you’ll have to say goodbye to all those tight fitting jeans that make you look like Jean Claude Van Damme flexing his thigh muscles not to mention the Vybz Kartel and Linkin Park t-shirts with ‘ I only go to school for the girls’ plastered at the front. You have to wear officially, it sends a good image they said… buttocks.
If you’re caught in these sadistic companies where the human resource manager is a heartless dictator then dear friend you’re in for a rough one, the bent over on your knees variety, the first thing you might be ordered is shaving off of that hairline you’ve meticulously grown with the tenacity of serial killer for 4 years since you Joined Webuye University College in first year when you were as bald as the next guy. I digress…
There are the perks of course, like the tea, I swear I drink so much tea that I even hum the ‘ketepa advertisement theme song’ in my sleep. Let’s not forget the sorting money fiasco… let me explain, at the bank I work, the note sorting machine recently broke down… and so the interns do the sorting, believe me this is not easy. We usually sort money by fifties, hundreds, some two hundreds and sometimes… when the weather is just right, five hundred notes. It can be tedious, sorting fifty notes and a hundred notes amounting to half a million can be traumatizing, but I choose to label it as a perk. C’mon talk to me, which unnatural kikuyu doesn’t love the incandescent smell of mullah. I’m a fan, a big fan, and sorting that cash gets to your head. You go home feeling important, occasionally you might send your dad to go buy you credit just for kicks… RIP.
The errands and belaboring tasks though seem unending, and now that I’m single, I have no one to text or talk to during tea and lunch breaks. Due to financial constraints also, I have a small fruit salad as my lunch, luckily the fruit salad guy is quite chatty, we talk about Eritrean men and their many wives, how much money we can win if only we had sure bets in SportPesa and slowly our conversation drifts into him asking for his pay… and I realize I’ve been duped again into eating more than fruit salad… and the rascal was fattening me up to pay the bill.
There is also the fact that during my first day at this internship, I was painstakingly punctual, the manager greeted me with charisma and a sort of ‘your hard-work is appreciated’ smile. This changed in the days that followed. This is really unfair if you ask me… I mean c’mon these guys ain’t paying me shit, the least they could do is smile when I walk in or at least greet me with the kind of enthusiasm that makes you feel inclined to call a press conference.
I’m a sucker for life, a sucker for love, but in all honesty things haven’t been going well for me this January. From job problems to social complexities in my love life to not getting enough time to guzzle some whisky, I’m pretty low right now… a comment would really help.
Francis the lone Puppeteer