Firsts

I groaned and the alarm buzzed. I wasn't ready to get up, but I'm usually ready to get up. I have too much work to get through and I can't stand the thought of having to be tense at work because of pressure. They have just introduced the KPA system and I must say adjusting is not easy for me, more especially in cases where protocol determines my bonus.

It's 3:55am and I can't get work done or go back to sleep. I'm anticipating a new and better day than Monday was. There is already too much going through my head because I'm contemplating keep my studies on hold this year because of my calendar at work, but I can't really do that.

This normally happens when I have meetings with big personalities, but surprisingly there isn't a big client coming. I usually worry about what to wear, what to say and these even shoot right across to thinking whether my handshake is firm enough or maybe my smile is too wide and doesnt end up looking a goofy grin.

The nature of work I do has made me really comfortable with firsts. I never make much conversation but I always try to keep my dialogue open-ended, for the sake of a healthy atmosphere not necessarily because I like to hear the sound of my own voice. I voluntarily explore every single detail of conversations, oblivious to the many challenges that may inevitably arise.

There are quiet a number of similarities between corporate people regardless of the race, gender or age. Sometimes I wonder about difference. I wonder what it is that makes me a professional besides the rehearsed speeches and clothes I wear to conform to the image. My name? My dark skin? The fact that I am working class, but not poor? The fact that I see past iPads, the two-phone culture of corporate players who have "made it"? What really divides us? Maybe I am supposed to intuit the answer.

My highlights of firsts flash through my head literally like I have a show reel attached to my head. But I have just spotted my best first, this felt like my social investiture within a network of high flyers. I wish I could write about it but it is a pity I will end up mentioning people's names and be sued.

Firsts are uncomfortable moments for people. They are often subtle mysterious moments or emotional foreplay and where everyone decides to stay unknown regardless of the name tags or business cards. 

Ok, I have found a firsts I am comfortable with sharing. The first time I met my house mate at res. It was such an uncomfortable experience. I had never lived with anyone but my family and it had always been easy to throw tantrums, complain about food or leave something anywhere and expect to find it there.

He was just a guy. He couldn't be more than twenty, was my first thought when he walked into the apartment. We had a two bedroom flat and shared the kitchen and shower. He stood for a few seconds in the door way, hesitating. He didn't really look like someone who'd take the nonsense my friends do and say so right there & then two things went through my head 1) I'm going to make his life hell and he won't be here most of the time because he'll keep away from me or 2) I won't be having friends over and just be a good person to the lost soul.

He walked towards me with his hand hanging out as if he'd just come to greet me and leave.

"Sean!" He shook my hand. His grip was strong even though his palm was moist.

 I paused because I didn't know if this was where I was going to say "Dibe with an L" or just "Libe" and get off the hook. Anyway, something eventually came out.

 There are just too many things I have accustomed to by myself; carry my own groceries, change my curtains and bedding and move into a new apartment. I hate disappointments so I really don't expect much from people to avoid that. He looked around the apartment and went out to get his stuff from the car, I assumed. I didn't offer to help or anything, because I really didn't have to.

He came back with two bags and a heavily made up and weaved middle aged woman who didn't look like his mother or his sister. I didn't know what to expect of them at this point, this woman looked like she could roll out a bankie any day and hot-box the apartment.

They went into the room and started unpacking his stuff. I went back to my room and spread myself across my single bed and started plotting what could have been a mission to find out the relationship with the half naked woman.

 To be continued... (I have to get work done)