Since young, I have always wanted to lead the life of a celebrity, a jetsetter or a socialite.
Since young, I have always wanted to lead the life of a celebrity, a jetsetter or a socialite. I would always read about the rich and famous, especially a certain Ms K and her sisters, in the gossip magazines and wonder about what they ate, where they went, and who they hung out with… so much so that I would actually act out imaginary scenes in the privacy of my bedroom, with me at the centre of it all. Little did I know, years later, I would actually still be acting out these daydreams!
My “dream” life started simply enough – fresh out of university, I went for interviews and attended openings and social events so that I could network. It was at an actual networking event (which I gatecrashed) where I met my current boss, *Sharon. We hit it off immediately; we shared similar interests and tastes. Upon learning that I was looking for a job, she hired me for her public relations company on the spot! I was unbelievably thrilled! But I was also afraid that she hired me for all the wrong reasons.
In my initial meeting with Sharon, I had aimed to make an impression. I conducted myself with greater poise than usual, pretended that I was sophisticated beyond my years, and spoke wittily and eloquently. The only problem was, I over-did my act. In my enthusiasm to impress, I started embellishing my life story. I dropped names of high society people whom I was acquainted with (detailed from local gossip sites), the kinds of hobbies I liked (which I only read about), and without realising, had even put on an unidentifiable but crisp accent (that I had acquired from watching hours of English dramas)!
Regardless, I decided I would keep up appearances and started work at Sharon’s company as I really needed a job. My fear of being found out as a fraud led me to put up a pretense of being a worldly young lady. And as the PR company dealt with many luxury brands and multinational companies, I really had my work cut out for me.
I switched out my favourite worn-in casual tees and frayed jeans for branded garments (which I spent a majority of my monthly pay on). I desperately coerced my more well-heeled friends to introduce me into all their social circles on the excuse that I wanted to marry rich (yet another fantasy of mine by the way). I relentlessly found means to connect with important people through various social media platforms like a stalker. Late into the nights, I would even watch YouTube tutorials on how to pronounce French designer names properly without mangling them into gibberish!
It has been half a year into the job, and Sharon and my colleagues have yet to smell anything fishy. In fact, so convinced are they that I am even nicknamed “Posh Spice” now; apparently, my childhood play-acting has paid off! But the truth is, I am no longer a child, but a working adult. How long can I keep this act up before being exposed as a con-artist?
A work review will be conducted in the next few months, and Sharon has already dropped hints that I could be promoted to a senior position. The good life that I have always dreamed of looks even more assured, and my future, brighter. But inside I feel tired, nervy and guilty. The climactic scene in the play that is my life is about to happen, and now I have to make a decision: Break down my facade and hope that the real me is good enough, or remain in my role as a fake “posh, worldly young lady”.
