Yeah making a living isn't easy, but who said anything about making a living, did I? When did I ever? What proof is there that I did? The only arrangement I had, was getting employed, E-M-P-L-O-Y-E-D, I never said anything about making a living, so why did it look like a death sentence?
7am through to 9pm. No provided food, cause that would cause a discount to the pay that wasn't even much to begin with, besides, only lunch was offered.
And of course, a pure rookie with eagerness and padded naivety, I actually thought I was ready for this, and worse part, I'd leave home without lunch, just storming off like that, but in my defense, there wasn't anything to take anyways, so throughout the first month, I had no lunch, only eating when I got back home, continued till I got my first paycheck, then I was able to get myself lunch from same store, once in a while though — didn't want to end up using up the entire thing in the name of lunch.
So to the most important question of the year, Did this employee — yes this royal gorgeous one— end up saving up enough to chase his dream?
"Well, seeing as how things were looking bad for me depending on others, I couldn't just stay down and let my dreams wash off when I had two working hands and a beautiful brain to boot. I needed to work out my fees. My employers grew fond of me seeing my commitment to work, arriving a couple minutes to 7 and only leaving after 10, and even working extra couple hours on the off given day, any added tips could go a long way, so I strived for it. And 60 years later, I was able to raise enough to start my dreams"
Exactly, you heard me, 60 years indeed, and this is if the extra tips were used for lunch and I didn't have to touch the main pay even for any sort of thing.
What sort of grand talk is save up to chase my dream, I'd have to at least work up 5 years to chase the edited version, only to have to drop out and continue the work after the first year and no kidding I'd have to work 60 years for the main version, and all these would've been something nice to consider if I even lasted for a year, what am I saying, half a year, or even for 5 months. I ran for my dear life after the 4th month, would have left middle of that 4th month, but due to policies, I stayed till the end.
I know somewhere in some novel or comic or even good movie, there's a protagonist in this situation but really does pull through it, saving up the money to at least start then creates his own opportunities whilst even in the edited version of this dream. But, gimme a break, well this protagonist—me— ain't all that — who do you people want to kill? I refuse.
When I realized I had to quit, was when I noticed my body was traumatized, and I'm not even kidding. The COVID-19 hit hard the first quarter of 2020, and the news came for everyone to stay within doors and no shops be found open, in the two weeks this order was able to thrive, one evening I went on a stroll with my big sis, and we happened to stroll to my work area.
Getting to the familiar road leading to work, my body became tensed and visibly began shaking, my legs refused to move properly, that's when I knew I had to choose my death, it was either death by working there or death by anything else, so yeah I chose the latter.
My request to quit was declined, ''why do you want to quit?'' they asked
I ran out of excuses to give, when even telling them I had to prepare for school wasn't falling through. They weren't buying it, till finally Mr Shop Owner decided since I wanted out, I should wait till the month ended so that they could find a replacement. They actually really didn't want me gone, but I needed out, it wasn't even a want. 7am through to 9pm, if I'm not fast enough, then 9:30, I'd walk down 25mins to my place, and the road wasn't even all friendly. I had no time for anything, and the pay wasn't even measley, and even if it was, the job itself wasn't even helping matters, cleaning of shelves most days in the week, offloading bought goods, verification of said goods, putting on price tags, arranging them into the shelves, sweeping a portion of said store, checking for expired goods, whilst attending to customers, giving them recommendations and smiling all the while, with an empty stomach most days, if this wasn't death sentence, I wonder what was, or even is.
Learning that I was about quitting, the boy I worked with wasn't happy about it, matter of fact the entire store wasn't, it was a family owned store, ran by family members with me being the only outside employee, if they could they would've wanted me to stay, but like hell I was.
I literally was counting my days, and when it was time, I was elated, oh my Lord, life at last. When going I was given my pay for that month and a couple of farewell stuffs from the store, I was glad i gave my all and it could be recognized, but that wasn't life, at least not for me, not having time for anything else, just wasn't my jam.
I later learnt that the shop owner died, the news broke my heart. I went to offer my condolences, his wife and the rest of the family hand their hands full with the shop, though she seemed glad I came around, she wanted I lend a hand, but I couldn't afford to.
After resigning, I was in no hurry to get back out there into the working class community, if what I went through was working class, then it needed an updated name — Hell.
Nothing like freedom I couldn't help but add. Took a couple of months before I was sane enough to think about getting myself off the house and out there again, but if I was to embark on this journey again, I had to be more thoughtful.