Day one...

My first official day at work. And I'm bushed. Advertising = glamour and glitz? Yeeaah right. Who on earth put that idea in people's mind in the first place? What I really did today was proof-read 4 different draft mock-ups. And draft copies they were. The print was so minuscule and blurry that I swear I am cock-eyed now and my reading glasses prescribed last week ran the entire course of its useful life. After the gruelling ordeal, I happily got my eyes to focus right again and cheerfully counted down to lunch time. And realised the staple diet of my colleagues is nicotine. Different dosages, yeah, but nothing else. They smoke so much that the sole ashtray in the pantry (thank God for small miracles - smoking is prohibited in the office) looks more like a porcupine with white/brown quills.

I followed the boss and art director out for a photo-shoot of a brochure featuring a wholesome, happy family. I was all keyed-up, imagining flawless mag models walking and talking just mere inches from myself. Are they going to be really nice people? Or bitches and he-bitches? We arrived at the shooting location soon enough. And saw a small normal-looking kid with his mum, munching on McChickens and fries. Huh. The "Mother" character arrived 30 minutes later than the scheduled time, but I must salute her professionalism. She immediately plonked herself down at the nearest available chair and took out her assembly of mirrors, lipsticks, mascara and the works. A big bag it was. Within 10 minutes, voila, she was done. If I wasn't observing her out of the corner of my eyes, I could swear she was a different person. Commandment #11: Thou shalt not underestimate the power of cosmetics. One of the greatest gifts the heavenly powers could bestow upon womenfolk.

Since "Father" was supposedly a popular local actor, he arrived with much pomp and grandiosity. And more than an hour late. First golden words out of his mouth: "I think my hair looks messy. Please blow-dry and style it for me." The make-up assistant promptly brandished the necessary repair tools. We waited another 15 minutes. End results of his licks and curls? Still curly. And brought back memories of the Elvis days. The make-up assistant later confessed in whispers that she hadn't been in touch with the business much since 2 years ago, she changed industries to selling insurance full-time. Figures.

My fantasy of brushing shoulders with the hip and happening layer of society, absorbing their aura and breathing in their heavenly scents turned out into 3 hours of squinting under the sun, sweaty armpits (perception of heavenly scent and aura went poof) and itchy arms and body for me particularly. I accidentally backed into a bush buzzing with unidentified insects.

Scratch, scratch. My first day. Scratch, scratch.

post script: The featured talents weren't bitches at all, in fact quite the opposite. But all they talked about was how fat so-and-so was/is, which agency to go to to lose weight and the proper ways to pinch out zits on their faces. And when she wasn't shooting, I caught "Mother" scribbling her name about 100 times in her little notebook. I am still baffled.