Day in a Bank

Today I had to find my way to this really high end place in the city. I know how we always call the whole of Singapore just one city, but this really is the city. With really posh, crazy tall buildings that shine with pristine glass, surrounding you all around. I can only look up and awe at the towering structures above me left and right. 

I felt so out of place walking there on the street. Women everywhere wore expensive looking stuff: dresses, slim-cut skirts and pearl string necklaces, black heels and stockings, perfectly powdered faces and red glossy lipstick. And then there was me in jeans and a shirt, eating from a Gardenia Bread bag looking lost. 

I wonder if there will ever be a time where I will be like that. I hope not. It looks so uncomfortable and cold. And formal. And uptight. I like my baggy clothes. Because it feels like you’re still in bed wrapped up in blankets and it’s so comfortable like that. Plus I’d look a lot more approachable and friendly.

If this was the adult world, well, maybe school isn’t too bad a place to be wanting to get the hell out of so soon. Because when things start revolving around money instead of grades, lots of things get harder and more complicated. And dangerous.

Ryan said that I should never trust anyone because he got badmouthed by an adult colleague at his other workplace. Which I didn’t quite agree to because what a tiring thing it must be to always have to be out on the watch and to not be able to rest in trust. But he said that’s how the real world is like. I guess he meant that’s what the adult world is like outside of our bubble of friends in school. 

Is it really that bad of a place to be? Well, I certainly would never want to work in a bank. I hate it when I have to be all formal with everything. Look professional. Prim and proper and spotless. A firm handshake will replace a familiar pat on the back, and I’d have to speak in immaculate english like how my mom does when she’s on the phone with people. 

But the people who work in the office of where I work are pretty okay. They’re quite a carefree bunch. Except for maybe some of the accounting and finance people (haha, no really I’m serious). 


Why is it the older we get the more of a perfect front we have to put up?


It’s like how you can’t imagine the president going to the toilet and pooping. Or the Queen of England. Because they’ve all got perfect fronts up on display. You wouldn’t understand how Angelina Jolie would go to the toilet too. Her front is too glamorous for that. Well at least that’s how I feel sometimes. You know, that front. 

Oh I can be prim and proper when I want to. Speak with that gentle, phone adult voice. But doing that everyday would be a torture. okay maybe not that bad, but still, I can’t be myself! I wonder if adults loose themselves one day after years of being like that. When they can’t be weird and improper every once in a while. Like those old panel board member dudes I always see on Korean Dramas. 



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