Orientation, Kuok, and one mishmashed dinner order.

Let's just say I'm taking this internship incredibly seriously. As in, wearing a grown up suit, complete with elderly lady colored panty hose and pinching heels. I feel as old and grown up as can be stepping out like that. Our group got businessed up, sallied out the door and got slowly swept up in paper work, waiting, getting situated, waiting and of course eating when we could. We met wave after wave of employees we should know, remember and strictly instructed to call if we needed anything. They say call if we need...but then they look rather serious and I always do a double take...I think they mean it!

My Food & Beverage Direct is Mr. Khoo. No but really, he is cool. Youngish guy, laid back easy smile and I hope a breeze to talk to when I need help on my project.
Did I mention I have a project that will result in an analysis of the F&B department and a 30 minute presentation in front of my peers and colleagues? Also, they love the word colleague.

Orientation was picked up again in a beautiful side room meant for business meanings and maybe small debutante parties. Our HR director is petite, soft voiced and incredibly sweet. She knew our names by our faces the first moment we met her, and has since mostly remembered us pretty well. She went over policies, all of the properties that Shangri-La has...and by all I literally mean every single one. They were beautiful and luxurious, but when that clock hit 2.30 my eyelids started drooping. Then she started to discuss an owner of this hotel, his name being Kuok. Tell me how you would say that? It's probably wrong. I went for the casual sip of tea, but had to replace the cup before any liquid passed my lips. Unfortunately the other two had the same idea and it only spurred us on in hiding our smirks. Needless to say the composure of group quickly dissolved into laughter so side splitting, tears were produce in abundance. She must have said Kuok eight times in a row and my fellow interns and I could no longer hold back the immature, yet unbridled mirth. When we explained her pronunciation of the word and its slang connotations, she giggled with us and thankfully moved on.

After listening to rules, regulations, policies, ethics, codes, visions, missions and goals my head was swimming and the lack of 6 hours of sleep swamped me. Then freedom, and a rush to get back to the apartment, jeans, and dinner.

We had our first dinner experience sans a translator. It was embarrassing, funny and I think our waitress had a good laugh about it...the whole time we were there. I tried a lot of mishmashed phrases, nonsensical words hacked out, even pointing to phrases in my book. We got our meal, paid successfully and felt a sense of accomplishment. We had struck out on our own, and we survived.

Whatever this experience has in store...I'll figure it out.