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A Philosopher in a Bank
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It is a truth universally acknowledged that a philosopher, which is not a vocation, must be in want of a job (and I haven't even got a PhD yet). Therefore, I decided to work in a bank.

Due to my inexperience, I was duped by the fancy-sounding job name --- CSO. The financial world is so plagued with initials that their point, which is a mnemonic device and to denote significance, is pretty much not there. I call it "initialitis".

I'm a part-time teller, basically. I'm not sure if it will end well, for me.

I'm not a quitter. I decided to stick to it before I find another full-time job. But I can't find another job that is so against my nature. I'm not saying that I'm a Bohemian hippie, but I find the whole deal of being a teller, which is basically to become an anonymous face of the bank working the hardest for the customers pissed off by the hour-long queue, unpalatable. They are miserable. I'm miserable because they are miserable. We are both miserable. The bank is really cold.

This blog will follow my trials and tribulations in the lowest hierarchy of the banking world. Will I be frozen dead by the air-con? Will I be bankrupt because I've miscounted again? Will I find another job? All will be reveal in the future entries. (tldr: yes, yes, and no)

This blog is also therapeutic for me. I don't have enough money to pay someone to talk to, so this will have to do. I promise this blog will not be about saying I-fucking-hate-this-job in 50 different ways. Hopefully, you will all get something out of my misery.

I fucking hate this job :)

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