Last day at college and I probably had the biggest smile. At the thought of just completing 4 years of college life was such a relief. I’ve done it. My degree, for my mum.
Now I’ll just have to join the other world. The working world. The 9-5 job, where everybody looks cool all dressed uo, going to their interesting 9-5 job doing something they all like. Well, it looked like that to me. So I though when college was done and over with, that 9-5 job will land on your lap. I mean, who wouldn’t want you, a fresh graduate with all that theories, definition and textbook intelligence. I couldn’t wait, to share my “knowledge”. But I knew I was going to do it in style. I was going to the UK. Somehow, the land of our once-upon-time-ruler just seems greater. They ruled out country and now, they have rules our minds.
It was easy, I tell you. Going to the UK was not easy. The visa was one, the cash was the other and the fear wrapped it all. Walking into the British High Commission was like visiting a friend in jail with all the tight security. (Not that I’ve experienced visiting anyone in prison, I’ve never been to one, but I’m sure it looks like it does in the movies) I joined a group of 30 odd anxious people waiting to be called in the visa office. As my eyes went wondering around, it got me thinking. What is it about this country (UK) that everybody wants to step foot into. What happened to our own land? Has it turned its back on us? Or are we just plain blind that we cannot see what our very own nation can provide us? Why grow up in one country, live you whole childhood and the suddenly when you have all that your own country has given you, like education and childhood memoirs, we go live out life and make our bread in another land? Well, if everybody just seems to want to go to the UK, there is probably something they can offer that our very own nation can’t. Just got to go and find out ourselves, isn’t it? Maybe that’s what people did and got their 9-5 job tailored made for them.
In I went, and when they called my name (Ms Govindaraju), I took me three calls to realize that they were referring to me. I jumped out of my seat. That was the very first time I was referred to as Ms Govindaraju. He did a good job as white man saying my “mouthful” name. I approached the counter with the hope that I would not be sent home like the other without a positive reply or my passport.
“What do you want to do in the UK?” – asked this gorgeous blue eyed officer. At the thought that I would see more of this in the UK, it got me wandering. Suddenly forgetting how to structure a sentence, I couldn’t think straight. After regaining my conscious – Öh, I want to be able to work and see the country. Not been to that part of the world and I really want to see it”
“So that all you want to do?”- with blue eyes staring deep into me.
“YES”I said, with the confidence at the same time trying not to get hypnotized by thise eyes.
“Where do you want to go in the UK?”- he said as he was running his fingers through the pages in my file.
Okay, a test to my geography knowledge. I just rattled as much of places that I could think of in the UK, places my mum always spoke about when she was in the UK. Along the list, I suddenly mentioned “Adelaide”(OH Shit! What sis I just do?) Looked up at him and said Öh! Ya, that’s in Australia. Right? Ya!”
“How can I believe you?”- What kind of question is that? What am I suppose to say? Say how much I don’t really know what I’m doing here in the first place? Do I tell him the truth? Truth that I’m just doing what my mother wants me to do? Truth – I’m confused! No, I cant…that’s not me. I may be all this inside, but to the world, I’m perfect. I know what I’m doing and it’s always the best. So by hook or crook, I’m going to the UK. Just ignore all these confusion spice and just get the damn visa, I’ll fix the rest later.
I leaned forward, looked at him and said ”because I really really want to go and I know I will be back in 2 years, just like the permit says. So please give me the opportunity”. Thinking about it now, I think I was begging him but not down on my knew. When my name was called again, I hurried to the counter, chanting my mantras in my head. I met this Muslim lady with excellent English accent, “Your permit just got approved, so could you come back tomorrow to pick up your passport?”- Just then she saw the glitter in my eyes, the glow in my face and gave me the you-deserve-it smile. I walked out of the British High Commission with the glow, glitter and the smile like it was a permanent feature on my face. Off I will go to the ruler’s land, job opportunities will be falling onto my lap and there I will have the tailored made 9-5 job just like everybody else. So I thought, as easy as ABC.
It’s funny coming to think of it, how we were brought up. After primary school, it’s secondary then it’s college then university and work. No questions. That’s the life pattern and everybody goes through that. But what is in between all that, nobody tell you. The struggle to get into the next phase in life, nobody warns you. From the outside it looks like a smooth journey and I so badly couldn’t wait to do that journey.
Everything in the UK took me by surprised. Most of all, the journey to find that tailored made 9-5 job, I was flabbergasted. There is not such things as a tailored made job, the job is never tailored made for you, you tailor make yourself for the job. There is never a job suitable for you but you make yourself suitable for the job. And certainly nobody in the working world wants you to share your textbook intelligence, they want you diligence. It’s a dog eat dog world out there. You will just have to shape up or you will find yourself shipped out. And it doesn’t make any difference if you are in another land.
Now I’ll just have to join the other world. The working world. The 9-5 job, where everybody looks cool all dressed uo, going to their interesting 9-5 job doing something they all like. Well, it looked like that to me. So I though when college was done and over with, that 9-5 job will land on your lap. I mean, who wouldn’t want you, a fresh graduate with all that theories, definition and textbook intelligence. I couldn’t wait, to share my “knowledge”. But I knew I was going to do it in style. I was going to the UK. Somehow, the land of our once-upon-time-ruler just seems greater. They ruled out country and now, they have rules our minds.
It was easy, I tell you. Going to the UK was not easy. The visa was one, the cash was the other and the fear wrapped it all. Walking into the British High Commission was like visiting a friend in jail with all the tight security. (Not that I’ve experienced visiting anyone in prison, I’ve never been to one, but I’m sure it looks like it does in the movies) I joined a group of 30 odd anxious people waiting to be called in the visa office. As my eyes went wondering around, it got me thinking. What is it about this country (UK) that everybody wants to step foot into. What happened to our own land? Has it turned its back on us? Or are we just plain blind that we cannot see what our very own nation can provide us? Why grow up in one country, live you whole childhood and the suddenly when you have all that your own country has given you, like education and childhood memoirs, we go live out life and make our bread in another land? Well, if everybody just seems to want to go to the UK, there is probably something they can offer that our very own nation can’t. Just got to go and find out ourselves, isn’t it? Maybe that’s what people did and got their 9-5 job tailored made for them.
In I went, and when they called my name (Ms Govindaraju), I took me three calls to realize that they were referring to me. I jumped out of my seat. That was the very first time I was referred to as Ms Govindaraju. He did a good job as white man saying my “mouthful” name. I approached the counter with the hope that I would not be sent home like the other without a positive reply or my passport.
“What do you want to do in the UK?” – asked this gorgeous blue eyed officer. At the thought that I would see more of this in the UK, it got me wandering. Suddenly forgetting how to structure a sentence, I couldn’t think straight. After regaining my conscious – Öh, I want to be able to work and see the country. Not been to that part of the world and I really want to see it”
“So that all you want to do?”- with blue eyes staring deep into me.
“YES”I said, with the confidence at the same time trying not to get hypnotized by thise eyes.
“Where do you want to go in the UK?”- he said as he was running his fingers through the pages in my file.
Okay, a test to my geography knowledge. I just rattled as much of places that I could think of in the UK, places my mum always spoke about when she was in the UK. Along the list, I suddenly mentioned “Adelaide”(OH Shit! What sis I just do?) Looked up at him and said Öh! Ya, that’s in Australia. Right? Ya!”
“How can I believe you?”- What kind of question is that? What am I suppose to say? Say how much I don’t really know what I’m doing here in the first place? Do I tell him the truth? Truth that I’m just doing what my mother wants me to do? Truth – I’m confused! No, I cant…that’s not me. I may be all this inside, but to the world, I’m perfect. I know what I’m doing and it’s always the best. So by hook or crook, I’m going to the UK. Just ignore all these confusion spice and just get the damn visa, I’ll fix the rest later.
I leaned forward, looked at him and said ”because I really really want to go and I know I will be back in 2 years, just like the permit says. So please give me the opportunity”. Thinking about it now, I think I was begging him but not down on my knew. When my name was called again, I hurried to the counter, chanting my mantras in my head. I met this Muslim lady with excellent English accent, “Your permit just got approved, so could you come back tomorrow to pick up your passport?”- Just then she saw the glitter in my eyes, the glow in my face and gave me the you-deserve-it smile. I walked out of the British High Commission with the glow, glitter and the smile like it was a permanent feature on my face. Off I will go to the ruler’s land, job opportunities will be falling onto my lap and there I will have the tailored made 9-5 job just like everybody else. So I thought, as easy as ABC.
It’s funny coming to think of it, how we were brought up. After primary school, it’s secondary then it’s college then university and work. No questions. That’s the life pattern and everybody goes through that. But what is in between all that, nobody tell you. The struggle to get into the next phase in life, nobody warns you. From the outside it looks like a smooth journey and I so badly couldn’t wait to do that journey.
Everything in the UK took me by surprised. Most of all, the journey to find that tailored made 9-5 job, I was flabbergasted. There is not such things as a tailored made job, the job is never tailored made for you, you tailor make yourself for the job. There is never a job suitable for you but you make yourself suitable for the job. And certainly nobody in the working world wants you to share your textbook intelligence, they want you diligence. It’s a dog eat dog world out there. You will just have to shape up or you will find yourself shipped out. And it doesn’t make any difference if you are in another land.
1 comment:
Halo, if you are typing this in the morning... WHEN DO YOU SLEEP!
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