Returns...

[Curtains draw. The spotlight shines on a lone figure seated at a desk in the middle of the stage; writing furiously in her journal. The narrator speaks.]

Perhaps it is time I returned back to my little melancholic corner. Why do I call this a melancholic corner? [Sarcastic hoot of laughter] Hah. It is perhaps the only place I can let it all out; every little dark secret I possess… [Ponders] Then again, perhaps not. There are too many people I know personally who will read this. Maybe I should create another dwelling. One in which no one will ever know who I am; and no one will ever judge my actions or my thoughts. It is a wonderful thought, isn’t it?

Babra Streisand plays in my room, as I settle down to type out this outrageously delayed entry. I wanted write about my short graduation trip. But that’s a happy thing… It would probably destroy the gloomy atmosphere that I have taken pains to inject into this place.

You didn’t know about my trip you say? Well I went to Madrid, Berlin and Florence. But I’ll hush about it for now. I’d be glad to tell you all about it if you ask; just not in this journal. [Whispers] I’ve got a reputation to uphold, you know.

So I’m – how would you say it? – stepping into the corporate world. Is that right? Bah… It doesn’t matter. As long as you understand, that’s perfectly fine by me. Have I found a job, you ask?

The answer would be, No. It doesn’t help that out of the 100 jobs available; at least 60 of them are sales jobs. Oh wait, I should have just said that 60% of them are sales jobs. [Stifles laughter] Silly me.

Now where was I? Ah, yes. So anyway, the first few interviews were rubbish. Darned conmen! I don’t bloody want a sales job. And No, it’s not because I don’t think I can sell, you fools. I just do not want to turn into one of those pesky, pushy sales people. Hell, no way! You can take you damnable contracts and shove it up your holes. [Takes in deep breaths. Calmer.] Now, moving on.

Oh, right. Then there are those bloody interviewers. One sends on a fresh grad – barely 3 weeks on the job – to interview me. I do wonder; who was doing the interviewing? Her or me? I swear, I think I knew more about her than she of me. Then of course there are those who just aim to intimidate you throughout the whole thing. [Raises hands in exasperation] What is with that? Honestly, we’re in a small little cubicle that you call a room.

Male interviewer, whatever your name might be:
Is there a need to tower over me, with that “I’m-the-king-bow-to-me” simmering look, and that protective crossing of arms over the chest? Oh, please. I’m sorry to disappoint, but I was really much more amused than intimidated. However, I have to give you credit for doing a very good job on that intimidation technique. I’m sure it has scared a good number of people.

Female interviewer, again whatever your name might be:
There really is no need to try to intimidate my by saying how profit-oriented you are. That dollar sign is written all over your face. Trust me, it is obvious. And what was that all about? That thing where you tried to correct my grammar? Honestly! I wasn’t the one who said “start the ball spinning”. You do know that the joke is on you, right? Well, apparently not then.

There were the occasional nice ones. But one of them was just trying to get me into the insurance line. Finance advisor, my ass! That 2-hour long sales pitch would have worked very well on anyone else, if not because I have such a horrible impression of your organisation [rolls eyes].

So, we’re back to square one, I should say.

[Reviews entry with a frown. Closing the journal with a thud, she pushes back her chair and stands. Clasping her hands behind her, she turns around and exits the stage.]