Day four is surprisingly similar to days one, two, three and four in terms of how it begins. It begins at 10am. I awake and check my phone. Any missed calls? Have they rung me? What are they playing at its 10am for Christ’s sake. Are they messing with my mind? I check my emails. Sweet FA. Nothing. No other companies have sent me anything. No response. Yes, seemingly, it all hangs on yesterday. Mess this up and I’m dust as far as HK is concerned. (more…)
The day starts like the last two. I get up late. Well, what’s to get up for? I’ve done all I can in terms of contacting every known Handbag factory in the SAR of HK and nothing has happened. I consider a job flipping burgers but I won’t get a visa for that. My brash swagger has now been replaced with a hopeless slouch. I sit on the sofa in my pants playing my Xbox. I am all at sea.
Ditto day one but without the Central bit. Just stayed at home waiting for the offers to flood in. Nobody contacted me. Where is everyone? I feel lost and pointless. The world passes me by today. The only hope is the interview tomorrow. It all hangs on that.
Sunday night fever proceeded my first day as an unemployed member of HK society. As Sunday turned into Monday I was determined to push on for the sake of my wife and my unborn son. Already with a child on the way my previous arrogance and pride has been replaced with the desperation of a Filipino cleaner. There’s a certain something that makes you do humiliating, degrading jobs and I now know what it is. Responsibility. Years ago I could have just fucked off to any part of the globe and began a new, crazy adventure maybe like Tom Cruise in Cocktail and opened a bar on a beach. That kind of thing. Now, wife and kid on board I’ll be more than happy cleaning toilets if it means my wife is happy and the baby has some food on his back.
“fa ya mudda” What? The taxi driver again shouted at me “fa ya mudda” ahhh…’fuck your mother’. NOW I understand. And so my last day at the Handbag factory unfolded. Let’s rewind. July has been a shit month. Annus Horriblus as Her Madge may say. July started well enough with a nice summer holiday in Thailand but as soon as we landed in HK all of the drama unfolded. As soon as we got off the plane my wife went to the toilet. She, at the time 13 weeks pregnant, came out and uttered the words that went through me like a knife…’’I’m bleeding’’. We are in the airport and we don’t know where to go, or indeed, what to do. In a state of near hysteria we somehow manage catch a cab and wind up in Matilda Hospital where my wife is checked out. The diagnosis was a small hemorrhage of the placenta that was causing some bleeding but our little boy, oblivious to the panic, was floating around in the womb like small astronaut his tiny heart beating like a little drum BOOM BOOM BOOM. We stayed overnight and visited our regular doctor first thing the next morning, a Monday morning. (more…)