There are many mysteries in the world, like who built the pyramids? Where is atlantis located? What happened to the dentures that belonged to my husband's aunt that Raks hid somewhere? And the biggest mystery of all, what is it that I do in my computer?
Ever since I succumbed to the lure of working from home, murmurs about my mysterious occupation has grown steadily louder and the various conjectures about it as well.
Downstairs Maami: Are you a data entry operator? Can you type my son's horoscope and bio?
Oh yes! But don't blame if I happen to put his sun in the soup along with the saturn.
Boy upstairs: Do you send email to thousands of people?
No. I just email my husband upstairs and remind him to come home for lunch
Lady from Rak's ballet class: Are you a hacker?
No. I can't even hack my own inbox if I happen to forget the password
Treasurer of Flat Association: I heard that you are a freelance writer. Please type this eight page letter we need to send it to all flat owners.
Oh yes! I did my literature course just so that I could type your eight page saga of flat history and the mystery of missing maintenance amount..
And the mystery deepened when I took on a new client who happened to sell lingerie online. So no one noticed that I was writing the descriptions in the word document though they all caught me staring at bra clad sexy models and not to mention muscular men in undies, almost all the time.
Niece: Are you looking at something naughty?
Yes. I am mentally cursing all these models with oodles of fat and bulging ass...
And one day, the school principal called me to the office and I went imagining that she took offense to the rendition of 'why this kolaveri?' that raks sang outside her office.
Principal: I heard that you are a freelance writer. We are looking for an english teacher. Can you join us? You can still do your free writing...
No ma'am, I can't even manage one tornado named raks and I would rather do free writing...
Disclaimer: This writer is not responsible for the conjectures, assumptions that others have about her profession. So do not cite this blog as a reference and assume that I do 'free writing' :)
Ever since I succumbed to the lure of working from home, murmurs about my mysterious occupation has grown steadily louder and the various conjectures about it as well.
Downstairs Maami: Are you a data entry operator? Can you type my son's horoscope and bio?
Oh yes! But don't blame if I happen to put his sun in the soup along with the saturn.
Boy upstairs: Do you send email to thousands of people?
No. I just email my husband upstairs and remind him to come home for lunch
Lady from Rak's ballet class: Are you a hacker?
No. I can't even hack my own inbox if I happen to forget the password
Treasurer of Flat Association: I heard that you are a freelance writer. Please type this eight page letter we need to send it to all flat owners.
Oh yes! I did my literature course just so that I could type your eight page saga of flat history and the mystery of missing maintenance amount..
Niece: Are you looking at something naughty?
Yes. I am mentally cursing all these models with oodles of fat and bulging ass...
And one day, the school principal called me to the office and I went imagining that she took offense to the rendition of 'why this kolaveri?' that raks sang outside her office.
Principal: I heard that you are a freelance writer. We are looking for an english teacher. Can you join us? You can still do your free writing...
No ma'am, I can't even manage one tornado named raks and I would rather do free writing...
Disclaimer: This writer is not responsible for the conjectures, assumptions that others have about her profession. So do not cite this blog as a reference and assume that I do 'free writing' :)
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