Thursday, May 11, 2006

Into the Zoo

I need to get a life. Since I moved here, I have been anti-social, wary, and lazy. I have few friends and we can't seem to be up to the same thing at the same time. Office days are Sunday to Thursday, 830-530. Work hours are 8-24, depending on the number of jobs (events) we have on and what you've been assigned to do that day. Our company is all about multiple talents, hah! Aside from keeping on top of crew and truck schedules, I'm currently filling in for our HRA/Receptionist which means my ass is glued at the reception during the day. Let's just say answering the phone and transferring them to the concerned people isn't my thing. Would much rather be out on site sweating and tanning under the harsh Middle East sun. Or out back at the Warehouse annoying the boys with my questions and helping them tinker with kits. Can't explain it, but I feel more tired sitting at that desk than anything else. My body clock is shot. Sleep is a struggle, and I never seem to get enough. On off days, I down 2 tabs of Fenistil just to make sure I'll sleep well into the afternoon of the next day.

Erratic work schedule = erratic moods

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Scrap that shit above.

I just uncovered a series of problems that was cleverly hidden by the people around me. First off, I can't be issued a Salary Certificate. Being on Father's sponsorship with a classification of student on my visa, it appears that I am not legally recognised by this company. I would need to apply for a Labour Card and before I can do that, all my school documents need to be attested by the Embassy back home then sent to the Embassy here. That shouldn't be a problem, except that the red tape in our beloved Las Islas Filipinas is one of the best in the whole freaking world. Getting my papers does NOT, however, assure my being given a Work Permit as there is a new law (as there always is, everyday the Royals wake up and think of a new one or change their minds about the previous) here that favours Nationals.

Without the Salary Cert, I can't open a bank account which I need before I can apply for a credit card which I need to get approved for my trip to Sydney. I also need that stupid piece of paper to prove to the Australian Embassy that I have a job to go back to here and, therefore, will not be a TNT.

I will also need the Labour Contract that has been promised to me long ago but has yet to appear. This contract will ONLY be issued once I get the card. Nice tangled strings, ey?

After a very irritated call to my Mum, it's dawned on me that I have been lured here with pertinent information and procedures deliberatey withheld from me. With my Dad's rush to get me here, he didn't realise that I would end up paying for his sins (of ommission, among others).

This leads me to the very important second. The chances of my going to Sydney this July are significantly slashed. Maybe all these problems are helpful in a way to the much bigger picture. I can postpone the trip to Syd, fix all my papers, then go there armed and ready. This way, I get to come home and chill. Plan the next attack. (*evil laugh*) via Thailand or Singapore? Whatcha think, Naning, SOB??

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Ooohhh I wonder if he'll call me tomorrow. I've nothing to wear yet, bugger. The Dress might be a bit too formal for a night of frolicking in town.

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Erratic eh? Welcome to the Zoo!

2 Comments:

Blogger banzai cat said...

Hahaha! Nice pictures, girl. Though sorry to hear about the strings. Will tell da maus about the pics.

Btw, did you get my text? Give maus a call later tonight (around 5 hours from now). Nana load for her...

12:59 PM  
Blogger E-vil said...

Thanks, sweetie!!heheheh

No, I didn't receive your text. Sige, I'll try to ring her mamaya.

4:56 PM  

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