I’d like to think my workplace isn’t half bad. I don’t compare myself with other people much. This, isn’t an assessment on my end. By the way, I don’t assess myself inwards all too much to begin with. People like me rarely try to identify something. Usually, the more analytical type would mention something I haven’t thought about. “Oh yeah, I guess,” then I would accept. It might seem quite pathetic, that I would get to notice characteristics about myself only when someone else tells me, but I don’t make a big deal out of it. Frankly, I don’t know how. Some years ago, it was a high school friend, with whom I’ve now lost contact, that commented that I don’t compare myself to others much. I guess that’s true. I must have said something like “I guess that’s true” back then as well. Why does one see this? More importantly, how? Ten months I have done this job, and only recently, only on the paydays, am I reminded to get out of my shell and clothe, well, the shells of the likes of my high school friend.

“Hello, hello, please watch your steps.”

Let me continue. For starters, my workplace is fully air-conditioned. No one, I dare say, is a fan of south-east asian climate. It’s not terrible, and one could say at least no one freezes to death. The heat and humidity though. It’s no different for someone like me who’s from here. My trousers still stick to my legs. I still think the sun could possibly kill me from time to time and curse at it. Many of the passengers on the Marinara Armada have sunglasses. You know, resting on their head or hanging by the shirt. Sometimes they would apply sunscreen when we get to center plaza. There’s more sunshine coming through when we get there. See, these are things I never use. It doesn’t help with the heat, so I won’t bother. Anyhow, on the way to work I see people working outside. The valet of this hotel, whom I don’t know personally, in particular, always has sweat trickling down on either side of his face.

Also, it’s not too much work. I could paddle very slowly and everyone is happy with the speed. In fact, my boss told me to go at this speed, and all other captains go at this speed too. If you ever visit this venue I hope you notice something about the water. It’s that it doesn’t smell of chlorine. Isn’t that something?

“Shit!” “Oh no, babe. Have you dropped your sunglasses into the pool?”, says the lady on his right. “Uh-huh.” Passengers drop their belongings into the pool all the time. “No problem sir, I’ll get that right out for you.” I reply with a hotel-boy smile that I default to whenever I’m speaking to any of the customers. It helps with the tip. We have these long tweezers that we use to get things out of the water. Phones are hard to grab but this one isn’t much of a hassle. He gives me a fine tip. I won’t visit any stores within my sight here with my salary, even including the occasional tip. I also don’t wonder much about what the passengers do when they are not on my boat. They must be steering their boats for other people somewhere. That’s probably how the economy works.