My first job

I have been meaning to blog more about my work but never had the time to get it done. And the other question is, where do I start?

Well, today I had a few nostalgic memories about my first job. So, I thought maybe I should start from there.

I first set my employment footprints when I was 11 years old. I decided to do something at that age because I need something to fill my weekends (too bored at home!).

My relatives run a gerai at the local market and I volunteered to waiter. And since I was so good (lol!), they let me work there every Fridays & Saturdays.

My job was to take orders, deliver the food/drinks and clean the tables. I still remember going around the tables taking orders and had to answer loads of unrelated questions.

People in Alor Setar are generally very friendly and I had a standard answer for “Anak siapa ni?” “Rajin nye… tak sekolah ke”. I wanted to say “My dad is not famous… and its weekends!” but I layan je..

On top of that, the owner of the shop, (my dad’s uncle) is a super funny guy. He is practically a joker and knows everyone in the market. He announced to the whole world that I was one of the “Bosnian Kid” which he adopted.

As funny as it sounds, people actually believed him! And people started calling me “Bosnia”. I got irritated with that but it would be a waste of energy to explain to everyone. I just smile and went along with it.

I got to know alot of people at the market, and people who shop there too (well, that means the entire community!).

My shift start at 6:30am and finishes at around 2:00pm. And I got paid RM6 per day. I was so happy to get paid and started saving it for “future use” -in which I spent on buying cassettes.

Some of the family members questioned my parents for letting me work at such a young age. My dad's response was “He wants to do it, its not like we force him to work”. I thought they were a bunch of idiots who are jealous with my “successful career”!

As I grew up and went to secondary school, the job didn’t seem to be a cool thing to do anymore. So, I told my parents “I quit!”. And when the shop need me to help out because they were short-staffed, my mum had to force me to go. They even start to pay RM9 per day and I still refuse to do it.

Well, that’s when the rebellious age kicks in.

I must say, in a way, it was that low-paying, low-prestige job that helps me develop my interpersonal skills.

~Cheers!