zenn bites...

wayang
the art of faking it

and a skill i have yet to master
(perhaps i never will).

four months and counting,
and i've come to realize that
my survival may come to depend on
my ability to wayang.

how fake can one get?
to have to report on every single thing you do,
just so you get marks for doing your job;
to have to subtly mention that so and so just visted his grandchildren in london,
just so you get marks for your PR skills;
to have to say that you walked the entire length of the plane,
just so you get marks for being helpful and cooperative.

the shallowness of it all is getting to me.

someone told me recently:
"in this line, 'please', 'thank you' and 'sorry'
are of no value".
they're terms thrown about freely,
just to save your own ass, and make other asses feel better.
another commented when they saw me give a passenger
some peanuts along with his drink (without him asking for them):
"wah, you must tell the complex leader,
if not no use going the extra mile!"

it is no longer enough that the passengers are happy,
coz what's the point of doing something
and not getting credit for it, right?

what fucking bullshit.

at the same time, it sucks that i'm doing all these
and not getting any recognition for it.
no, wait, that sounds wrong.
i don't need to be praised, i don't need no compliment.
i just want to be treated decently,
and be seen as someone who is doing her job well.

don't you have eyes to see what i do?
granted maybe not all, but at least some?
isn't that part of "situational awareness"?

the fake smiles, the inane conversations,
the vapid gazes, the robotic replies.
the worst are those who think they can be rude and curt
just coz i'm most junior.
hello? i'm human too.
and there are nicer ways to correct me
when you think i'm doing something wrong.

i wish they'd all go away.

of course, i've met many more who are genuinely nice,
the sweet ones who go out of their way
to help me when i'm slow.
the kindly ones who take me under their wings
and show me the tricks of the trade.
the lovely ones who guide me along and comfort me
after i've made a booboo.

and i'm thankful to each and every one of them,
for without them, it'll be sheer hell.

a few rotten apples can really spoil my mood though
and give me a disgustingly horrid check report.

it's tragic that my livelihood depends on them.