New place, more shit, lesser toilets.

I was already dead tired while typing this, as my eyes strained to keep themselves open. Still I insisted that I did one post to show that I am still alive and dragging.

The new store will finally open this sat 12th. It's adiós to a month of merry-making and back to face the 'daily life of a working-class'. Mbs (Marina Bay Sands) is really one shitty place, for all their futuristic architectural marvels, proclaimed state-of-art facilities and casino gaming entertainments. It's like a little island on it's own, with the next nearest building a good 20 mins walk away. Accesibilty is bad, parking fees are exorbitant and lots are scarce, and food...goodness! Pathetic choices at eye-popping prices! Imagine 3 siew mais costing $3.30. I rather eat my own balls packet meals.

Luckily the new boutique is still beautiful. Though not exactly finished in the way I imagined, it does tug at my heartstrings a lit, being with the boutique since it's first incorporation. With 2 new ladies on board, we are now on a 6 men team. There were as much hesitations as expectations when relocating to this current site, but given the pain-stakingly slow figures generated during Raffles Hotel's reign, this is Breguet's last straw. Next time this year, either I am happily settled in this new home or have since move on to greener pastures. Such are the stakes involve and armed with a new responsiblitiy, I am slowing feeling the heat too. Maybe mbs' infamous air-conditioning is trying to prove their critics right again, dammit. And the bloody toilets...most have only 1 or 2 cubicles for poo-poo. Either I break down my defecation to a series of short stincts per day or I bring my own portable mini-loo, cos I really dun like the idea of shitting while a steady queue forms outside.

It's still early days to see results, though Fabien has already subtly stresses the importance of that. But seriously, I am not having good vibes and I refrain from being overly optimisstic. More crowd doesn't necessarily means more sales, and with the kinda stuffs we are selling, the money could have given me 5 yrs supply of ciggies, with a heart bypass throw in. With fingers cross, I can only hope for the best...when some lunatic still on a high of hitting the jackpot walks in. That probability works out roughly to be like me having an affair with my 'much-loved' manageress.

Still, one of the cons the ONLY con of working there means I am further away from the nearest drinking hole possible. My laziness outweighs the thirst and lure of a cold beer anytime, and on the secondary, can only means well for my pockets. I thought I lose weight from all the recent inactivty until I realised my wallet were significantly lighter. So I am officially broke again, once more.

Words like 'break', breakup', 'broke' and 'broken' are incessantly becoming such regular fixtures of my life, I wonder if I am really such a loser chap of a guy or juz fucking plain cursed. Nevertheless, initiating the first step to resolving a problem is always a healthy start and I hope I can sustain the effort.

I hope the new place bears well for me. And I hope there are more lunatics than not, to burn a few hundred thousands. Nothing is impossible.


Including the affair. puke.